Page 49 of The Last Good Man

There’s not much time to think about it as I tilt the curtain to the side and peek outside.

He’s talking to the cops––a man and a woman––no guns drawn out, no patting down.

A sigh of relief rolls off my chest.

Things seem to be all right, and moments later, the cops pull away while Jax looks up at my window.

Fuck.

I step back, almost falling over a plant.

I think he was smiling.

JAX

Middle Village, Queens

An hour later

I roll the car as quietly as I can beforebringing it to a stopin front of a modest single-family home.

With the engine still running, I slide the door open, climb out, and move the garbage bins out of the way to make room for my ride next to my mother’s SUV.

The place is dark, like most homes on the street. Most people are asleep.

This is a nice area of Queens with mom-and-pop shops, public transportation, and the best pizzeria in town–if you ask me–but our place is too small.

We outgrew it a few years back.

I lock my car and glance up. A bluish light spins slowly around the room upstairs.

Silently, I open the front door, enter the house, and head straight to the kitchen.

It’s the best place to have a drink late at night without waking everybody elsein the house.

My boots go next to a pair of sports shoes in the hallway before I walk into the kitchen.

The place is clean, a small nightlight casting a glow over the granite counters.

The kitchen island marks the center of the room, while a table with four chairs sits next to a window overlooking the backyard.

There’s nothing to see outsideright nowas the wooden shutters are closed.

I spin toward the refrigerator and grab a beer before trailing the smell of food to the stove.

“There’s food in the oven, and it’s still warm,” my mother says, and I turn to her.

She wears a house robe with a floral print, her dark hair pulled back and neatly tucked under a hair band.

Her eyes are heavy with sleep.

“Did I wake you?” I ask.

“No, you did not. I fell asleep less than an hour ago and jolted out of sleep for no reason.”

Gesturing, she moves toward the oven.

“There’s a bottle opener in the drawer,”she also says,checking the tray of food.

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