A place for Reddit authors to share their ongoing serialized web fiction.
PART ONE
As I blinked uncomprehendingly, Bob sat back in his leather seat with the broadest grin I have ever seen on another living soul. His shirt was still stained with whatever he’d been lying in the night before, and his jacket was tied around his waist with a piece of knotted twine.
My first clue should’ve been that ratty hat that perched on his head. It was probably a fedora at one point in its life, however the scraps of fabric and leather that had more holes in it than his shoes made that authenticity doubtful.
No one else was wearing a hat in this place, because the maitre d who oversaw everything would fire his reception staff in a heartbeat if they missed even one.
I turned, searching for the hidden cameras or some such set-up.
The next clue was when the meal came. No menu. No prices. The meal itself turned up. Like it was pre-ordered.
Which is probably just as well, since I was a college student who shared a room with five other guys. When I’d suggested to Bob that I treat him to a meal because he’d brought me home my wallet, complete with the seventy bucks I had put aside for my part of the week’s rent, I’d meant a burger at Black Taps, or maybe something at the Cupping Room Café or something. You know. Something I could afford.
And that had certainly been my impression as we walked down Broome Street towards either of those restaurants. I was fully expecting to be forced to get that meal as a takeaway because of Bob’s attire, but we didn’t make it that far.
And now that I was thinking about it, I’m not even sure when that plan had changed. Broome Street runs for over a dozen blocks, and somewhere along the line I tripped over Bob’s feet and stumbled a few steps.
He stumbled in his effort to catch me, and when we righted ourselves, I could honestly say I had no fucking idea where we were.
Because I knew Broome Street. Being a resident of Soho New York, I knew every inch of Broome Street, and nowhere along there was there a set of iron gates that led into a car park. And what the hell was Benu when it was at home?
Now I was the one dragging my heels, as Bob walked me through the front doors into what I now guessed had to be one of the. Most. Expensive Restaurants. In. Fucking. America! It had to be. Because I saw the thirteen and a half thousand dollar price tag at the bottom of the bill when the maitre d slid it under Bob’s napkin.
And I watched as Bob dropped a metallic silver credit card with no personal name or number information on the front. Just the words: VISA Infinite in the bottom right corner. The maitre d bowed and withdrew to process the purchase.
“I don’t even want to know how much money you’re worth, do I, Bob?”
Bob grinned and sat forward again. “Just enjoy the meal, kid. Tomorrow morning, you’ll wake up in your bed and wonder if this actually happened. You might as well give your imagination something to work with.”
“So where are we?”
When Bob shrugged but refused to answer, I decided to find out for myself. The joy of a phone and Siri. “Siri, where am I?”
After a few moments (which was already too long), Siri came back with, “You are in Benu Restaurant, San Fransisco.”
“WHAT?” I launched out of my seat and leapt back away from the table.
Bob kept drinking his ten thousand dollar wine.
“HOW?”
“Kid, have you ever heard the old saying, ‘I’d tell ya, but then I’d have to shoot you?’” My eyes shot open as they searched his loose clothing for a weapon.
Bob snorted waved his hand in a dismissive way. “Okay, bad joke.” He finished the wine and climbed to his feet, just as the maitre d returned with the unlabelled credit card. “Maybe this was too much, too soon.” He pointed at the ring my mother gave me when I was a kid and said, “Do yourself a favour and take that off, son.”
My hand went to the simple gold band and covered it protectively. “Why?”
“Because this is yet another screw-up on my part. I should’ve taken you to a restaurant in Soho instead of bringing you over here to my favourite restaurant. Now that I know that, I need to put you back, so we can try again tomorrow. Sound good?”
“Wh-what?”
“Just take the ring off, Sam. I’ll take care of the rest.”
When I still refused, he lifted his right hand and peeled off his filthy glove. That was when I saw he had a ring very much like mine, only his was much thicker. “I’ll even go first. Just to show you how easy it is.” and with that, he slid the band from his finger. “See? Your turn.”
I still wasn’t sure what he was hoping to achieve, but since he went first, and he had just bought me the meal of my life, the least I could do is take off a ring for a second … I supposed.
When I did, it was as if everything around me became more. I turned a tight circle, trying to understand what I was seeing...smelling...hearing...
“Nighty-night, son.”
And that was the last thing I remembered, before waking up back in my apartment with my roommates attempting to beat down my bedroom door.
“Landlord’s here! Do you have your part of the rent?” I heard from no less than five different sources at once.
“Uhhh…yeah, hang on,” I said, trying to get my bearings. My wallet was under the mattress where I always kept it, and digging it out, I found a wad of hundred-dollar bills that had to be at least three grand.
“Did you rob a bank, Sam?” they all demanded at once.
“I-I don’t think so,” I stammered, trying hard to remember how so much money had gotten into my wallet. When nothing came to me except the feeling of being fuller than I’d been in months, I found myself staring at the ring on my right hand. The same ring that had been on the same hand since I was two.
What am I missing?
((All comments welcome))
For more of my work: r/Angel466
FULL INDEX OF BOB THE HOBO TO DATE CAN BE FOUND HERE!!