Different Forms of Happiness

Part 4

Chapter 3 - Graham

Scott tugged on his shirt in disgust as Graham turned away from him.  Maybe his idea was a little mean, maybe he could have gone at it in a different way, but this was Scott.  Scott and him had been doing not so nice things to one another since they met.

"Do I have to wear this?  Seriously, man, smell it."

"I'm not smelling it," Graham replied, letting the amusement he was feeling slip a little.

Scott's eyes narrow.  "You laugh and I'm kicking your ass."

"As if you could," he replied with a snort.  As soon as the words left his mouth, Scott took a step forward.  That step was enough to send Graham running. Good God, the man smelled horrible. "Okay!" Graham yelled as Scott followed behind him.  "Stop, I give up!"

His buddy halted with his eyes still narrowed.  "You admit that I can?"

"No, but you smell disgusting.  Come on, let's get this over with."

Scott paused for a minute before shrugging.  "I still don't think this is going to work."

"How will it not?" he asked while shrugging into his jacket.  The brown, paper bag that Nan had given him crinkled in his pocket as he situated the jacket comfortably.

"Well," Scott started, grabbing the trash bag Graham had sat out for him, "even when they do be nice to me, how will I contact them later?"

Graham smirked at his friend.  "I'll get their number."

"Dammit, Graham," Scott said, throwing the bag at him.  "You're doing this for numbers."

He held his hands up in silent surrender.  That wasn't what he had planned.  Okay, so maybe, he would take a couple of their numbers for himself, but this was for Scott. This was so that he could find the woman of his dreams.  Graham had no wish to settle down, at what he thought was too young of an age, to some unattractive woman he barely knew. 

"I'm doing this for you," Graham assured him.  "When women see you on the side of the street, they'll see a homeless person.  They won't see Scott, the man with money.  So, I'll stand around the corner, you sit there with your cup, and whoever drops some change it in, I'll get their number."

"You know it's a fact that the majority of the time its men who leave the change."

"Yes," Graham started as a large smile spread across his face, "but it is usually a woman who tells him to drop the change."

"His wife, maybe," Scott groaned as he flung the door open.  "This is an idiotic idea, and I hate you for it."

Graham followed behind his friend with a large smile on his face.  Scott was right, but there was no way that he was going to pass on this opportunity to humiliate Scott.  As they walked towards the elevator, Graham paused.  There was no way that he was going to stand next to that stink.  "Hey, Scott."

"Yeah?"

"You want to know what would complete the hobo image?"

Scott's eyes narrowed in distrust.  "What's that?"

Motioning towards the stairs, he smiled.  "Sweat, I bet if you ran down the stairs, you would get that sweaty smell that so many homeless people have.  If a woman can look past that, you definitely have yourself a keeper."

The hesitation on Scott's face was priceless, but Graham knew he would eventually give in.  Scott would see the reasoning behind the completely irrational story Graham had made up.  It was how Scott was; the man could find reasoning in a pile of trash.