Page 62 of Sex Coach

Twenty-One

Jake

I stoodat the window of my apartment, watching the snow come down in fat, heavy flakes .

I didn't like the look of it .

I'd finally decided what I should do about Michelle and me, and here the sky was looking like it was about to dump a two-foot blanket of snow on the city .

In just over an hour, I was supposed to meet Michelle a few blocks north .

Earlier, she had texted and asked me for my address. Without thinking, I had given it to her although now I wished I hadn't. I lived basic .

I mean really basic. The money I'd earned, I kept aside and tucked into various accounts, or better yet, in stacks of cold, hard cash which was locked into my safe here in my apartment. I had issues trusting the justice system, the law, banks, hell, pretty much anybody .

It hadn't always been this way, but ever since that phone call ...

The phone call .

That fucking phone call .

My mind wandered back to that day, hearing Crank's voice, raspy after years of cigarette use, as he said my name. "How ya doin', Jakes? Life on the outside treating you okay ?"

"I'm doing okay, Crank. What about you ?"

We didn't talk too often, but I still wrote him, called him once or twice a year. He had another five years left before he had a chance at parole, and I wanted to be the friend to him that he'd been to me, so when he called, I always answered .

"I'm good, I'm good, kid. Listen...I got this letter. It's from some guy, Marlon McCrane ."

Marlon.

Fuck.

"Don't do this," I muttered, pushing thoughts of him and the call, the letter, all of it out of my mind. I couldn't think about that part of my life and still be level when Michelle got here .

Lately, Michelle had taken up too much of my thoughts, which wasn't good. I had a mission, something I needed to see through to the end, and not being able to focus on it wasn't good, but how was I to push that sweet, wonderful woman out of my head ?

Lately, everything in me seemed to be screaming, the mission can get fucked . The mission didn't seem to matter the way it used to .

At least not until I woke up from another nightmare, starting on that long, slow walk to the car, my head crazy and spinning, people around me laughing...then everything went dark, and I woke up in the hospital where they told me my mother was dead, and I was the reason why .

"Do you remember anything, son? Anything at all ?"

The answer had been no, and I wished to hell the sheriff who'd been at my side when I awoke had never told me what happened. I wish to hell he had never said a word, that I had never woken up. But if I'd stayed unconscious and unaware, I never would've found out what happened later. I never would have known about the letter, never would have thought things through and realized there was another explanation .

The mission might not exist. The mission...getting answers .

But it was damned hard thinking my way through to the next step when all I could do was think about Michelle .

The snow continued to fall .

Michelle and I were supposed to be seeing each other very soon, but with snow as thick as this was, I had a feeling a whole lot of New York wasn't going to be doing much of anything for the next twelve hours or so. It was supposed to snow clear through early morning, and it would take at least through dawn to get the roads cleared .

There was a time when seeing all this white stuff would've made me so happy I would've been stupid with it. I'd never seen snow until I move to New York City. By that time, that innocent kid in me had been long dead. That innocent kid who would have loved to build a snowman, maybe gone to Central Park and played in that cold shit all day long. Played the way I'd seen others doing as I trudged around the city, first on my way to odd jobs when I worked under the table, then when I was meeting various clients .

The knock at the door caught me off guard. Hardly anybody knew where I lived. Hell, hardly anybody other than my clients even knew I existed .

I didn't exactly cultivate friendships. And none of those clients were going to come here for a visit or to see if I wanted to go grab a cup of coffee – most of them probably didn't even know this piece of New York even existed .

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