I breathe in the steam. Tea. West pushed it into my hand a few minutes after sitting me down on his couch. He wrapped a thick afghan throw over my shoulders. Now he’s in the kitchen, speaking in low tones to someone on the phone. Probably Blue. He’ll have to explain why I’m not in police custody—or worse. It doesn’t seem to matter anymore, what happens to me. Lock me up. Throw away the key. It’s not like I had some great future ahead of me. It’s not like I have anyone who’ll care when I’m gone. West enters the large open living space, tossing his phone onto a side table. His apartment is a huge loft in the part of Tanglewood undergoing a resurgence. Old buildings are being remodeled and rented out. This place has exposed brick and stainless steel. It wouldn’t have come cheap. If I had pictured him anywhere, it would have been in a simple, bare apartment one step up from my own. And I would have been wrong. The walls could use some artwork, but the place is fully furnished in the kind of restrained, comfortable style that speaks of money.
What do You think about Caught For Christmas (2015)?
