I cleaned up the mess I had created and left, walked by the Tennessee Performing Arts Center, headed toward Gaylord Entertainment Center, walked down to historic Second Avenue and Printer’s Alley, changed directions a few times, and let my paranoia take me toward War Memorial Plaza and Freedom Center. When I was satisfied I doubled back and checked into the Hermitage Hotel. I needed rest, had to get off my feet. Didn’t need Hawks caught up in my drama with Detroit. And I didn’t need the drama Hawks was issuing. I’d left five thousand on her dining room table, left the money and no note, just sent her a text telling her I was gone, told her thanks. Same as I had done the last time I had seen her. One day. We had been together twenty-four hours back then. I saw it as something pleasant that had happened, intimacy with no strings, no need to get emotional over one day of fun and one night of liquor and dancing to jazz; if we connected again, cool; if not, cool. I guess Hawks saw that night a different way.
