It was going to be our last night, and I did not see it coming.

I rapped gently on Tommy’s apartment door. It was very late or very early, whatever, and I didn’t want to wake his neighbors. I didn’t want to wake him either, if he was asleep. I’d find somewhere else to crash if I had to. I was relieved when I heard the locks and the door open. It almost always opened.

“Taylor,” he said through a sleepy smile. He seemed relieved, too. I waited. “Come in.”

I kissed his cheek and said, “Thank you, Baby.” Usually, men in their forties wanted girls my age to call them “Daddy,” but Tommy didn’t.

My name isn’t really Taylor. For all I know, Tommy’s name wasn’t really Tommy, but it probably was. I heard someone else call him that. I guessed at what his age was. He was one of those people who were most likely younger than they looked. He never asked me how old I was (shocker!), but for the record, I was legal, even though what I do isn’t.

I set my backpack down by the door and kicked off my heels. He asked me what time it was, and when I told him, he said, “Wow! Busy night!”

“Tell me about it!”

“No, you.”

The words were out of my mouth before I realized what I had said, and I rolled my eyes at myself. “Okay, you got me.” Tommy, no lie, liked me to tell him about my nights.

I extracted the laundry bag out of my backpack and dropped my panties in it. Tommy always got to watch me pee, but never number two. I spread my legs to give him a good view. Sometimes I peed in the shower, but Tommy liked to hear the splash.

“Is that for me?” I flirted, indicating the growing bulge in his pajamas. That was our ritual. Some of his PJ bottoms had open flies, and he’d get embarrassed if it popped out. It’s funny what embarrasses some men, and what doesn’t.

He had the shower ready for me, with a brand-name body wash and shampoo, a washcloth and a scrubby in a basket. Towels had been laid out on the floor to catch what splashed from the shower—I didn’t get the privacy of a curtain. I didn’t deserve the privacy of a curtain. Face it. I didn’t.

Openly gawking at me must have been freeing for him, maybe overwhelmingly freeing. He sat where he always did, on the closed toilet, and crossed, uncrossed, and re-crossed his legs. We knew that if he touched himself, or even if I just looked at it in a certain way… Well, there were towels on the floor.

There was one time I was feeling playful and asked if he had a razor I could borrow. Well, I only had to tug his dick a couple of times to get a handful of shaving gel. He was kind of pissed at first because he always wanted to hold off as long as he could (which was never long at all), but then I smeared it around my mostly smooth pussy and gave it a touch-up. I made him cum again later, so it was all good.

The first time he let me shower there, he creeped (‘cause it was creepy, right?) outside the door which he had left ajar. “For the steam,” he claimed. I thought, why not, and invited him in. It wasn’t like he hadn’t seen it before.

Yeah, that shower at Tommy’s felt so fucking good my first time at his place.

You see, Tommy had been a semi-regular. Sometimes it’d be just a hand job, sometimes a blow job, and every now and then he’d have enough money for a room and a fuck. When I said ‘a fuck’ with Tommy, I meant usually a two-fer. Sure, most all of my dates would cum pretty quickly, but Tommy, poor Tommy…

And he would apologize to me, like I cared. He was okay as dates go, (more awkward than creepy, I guess), so as long as he had two condoms and time on the clock, I’d let him put it in twice. There’s always a chance that some guys get attached if you’re too nice, so I teased or mocked him now and then. You know, to keep the relationship professional.

One day, he saw I had a little bruise and got all macho-protective. I told him it was nothing, and it was. He ended up giving me a business card (like an assistant manager at a fast-food place needs a business card) with his address scribbled on the back. He was nervous and uncharacteristically stern when he said, “Just in case.”

I almost kissed his cheek but thought better of it. I tucked the card away, thinking I’d never use it.

But I did, and that’s kinda what my story’s about. So, yeah, that first shower—it happened the night I had to get out of the rain. There was so much rain that night, a real biblical downpour, and it wouldn’t stop no matter how loudly I cursed it. My curses only made it colder. Of course, there was no place else to go—the shelters got full fast.

I waved, hoping he’d recognize the shivering, drowned rat he saw through the peephole. I think he was as surprised to see me as I was to be there. His apartment was in a little better shape than I’d have expected from an assistant manager who pays for sex.

“I was wondering if I, you know, just until the rain stops.”

He let me in, and I kept my backpack close. He insisted that I take a hot shower before I died from hypothermia. It was odd that he watched me during the shower but left me alone to dry off and dress. When I got out of the bathroom, he had my wet things draped over a chair and my thong hanging from a lamp. I ignored the sheets piled on his couch. There was no way in hell I was going to stay any longer than I needed.

“You should eat something,” he said and pointed at his kitchen table. “There’s not much. I’d have made you a sandwich, but I figure you wouldn’t eat it if I made it.”

I mumbled my thanks. Yeah, I could eat. I sniffed the cold cuts and supposed it was worth the risk. He asked if I wanted anything to drink.

“Got a beer?”

“Are you old enough to drink?”

Yeah, that’s what I thought. I shouted at him that I was old enough to fuck, but he wouldn’t give me a fucking beer?

I was gathering my wet clothes when he said, “Wait, wait, wait. I’m sorry, that was stupid.” I waited. I hadn’t eaten my sandwich yet. “No. No beer,” he said, “but it’s because I don’t have any. It’s not good for me to have alcohol around.”

“Tap water’s good,” I said and found a clean glass for myself.

We talked about the weather and not much else. “They say it’s not going to let up any time soon,” he said. “You should stay until it does.”

I glanced at the couch. “I don’t think so.”

“You can have the bed. I already put clean sheets on it for you. I’ll take the couch, but you could stay anywhere you want. No strings.”

“Yeah, sure.”

“I mean it. At least until your clothes are dry. Hey, I’m not going to twist your arm. Sit up and watch TV if you want or relax on a good bed. It’s the only thing here I spent any money on.”

“Besides me.” The poor joke tumbled out of my mouth before I could think better of it.

Tommy thought before responding, but he said it anyway. “Some things are cheaper to rent than to buy.”

“People. Some people are cheap to rent,” I said.

“Look, if you want the couch, you can have the couch. Help me move the clean sheets over for you.”

I had made up my mind before he finished. If he was stupid enough to give up his bed, I was stupid enough to risk it. “No strings.” That wasn’t a question.

“No strings.”

“No watching me sleep and jerking off.”

“No watching,” he said, and he fought back a grin. “I’ll meet you halfway on that.”

I thanked him sincerely and conditionally, and plucked my still-wet things from their perches. Then I brought them and my backpack into his bedroom. I bade him a good night through the crack in the door, right before I closed it.

The uncluttered room smelled of air freshener, and if I had opened his closet, I bet a hundred things would have tumbled out. For I second, I wondered if he had any cash hidden. I hated myself for thinking that, but surviving is about more than one night on clean sheets. Anyway, I probably had more money on me than he did.

The sheets looked clean, but I still checked them over very closely before climbing in. They felt clean and, oh, they smelled clean. And the bed was worth every penny he paid for it. He was stupid for giving it up, and I almost felt guilty about taking it.

I sighed and lay still, staring at the door. I was so fucking tired and the bed was so fucking comfortable and yet, I couldn’t close my fucking eyes. It wasn’t guilt, no, it was bells in my head warning me not to take candy from strangers. He’d want something in return if I didn’t take control back right then and there.

I had to leave, or I had to balance the scales. My terms.

Creaking open the door, I peeked. The lights were off, and I couldn’t see over the couch to tell if he was lying there. Since there was no advantage in being tactful, I found the light switch and tramped to the other side. Sure enough, the boy was caught with his hand in the cookie jar.

I told him to hang on (no pun intended, but pretty funny in retrospect) as I pulled the sheet back. My god, all that cheap lotion… I gave his slippery cock a squeeze and proceeded to take over where he left off.

Tommy grabbed my wrist and told me to stop. “What are you doing?”

“No charge,” I said. “This will make us even for the bed.” He let me go, and I tried not to let him go off too soon. I asked him why he used so much lotion.

“Professional curiosity? Not everybody’s hands are as soft as yours, Taylor.”

I accepted the compliment by stripping off my shirt so he could watch my tits jiggle as my hand sloshed through all that fucking lotion. He lay back with his eyes closed, trying his best to stave off the inevitable. Yeah, I knew cocks, and I knew Tommy’s cock, and I knew Tommy. Despite the excess lotion, I nailed the countdown in my head and watched his payload launch onto his stomach.

Using the washcloth from my shower, I cleaned him up and hastily tucked him in. “We’re even,” I said. I snatched up my shirt and went back to bed, where I still couldn’t sleep. “Tommy,” I called out with little more than a whisper. Good, I thought. He’s asleep already. But I yelled for him again anyway, a little louder.

Tommy knocked and opened the door. He stood there in his boxers for a second before asking, “What do you want?”

“Do you have pajamas?” I asked.

“Yeah.”

“Put them on,” I told him. “I get the side by the door. One bad move, and I’m gone.” That was a big move for me, and I suspected a bad one. Up until then, I had never spent the night in bed with a man. Funny, right? But I had never been asked by anyone I’d want to give my overnight virginity to. Tommy was convenient; it was a big bed and no big deal.

My eyes snapped open the next morning when he stirred, and I feigned sleep. His morning wood bobbled in his pants as he padded out and closed the door. My stuff was right where I had left it, so I decided it wouldn’t hurt if I rested for another minute.

Another hour later, Tommy thumped on the door. “If you want coffee, come get it now. You need to get out soon.” It was a little embarrassing, being awakened like that. My original intention was to slip out before he woke up. When that didn’t happen, I wanted to leave as soon as he got out of bed. I put on my day clothes and apologized.

“I wasn’t expecting guests,” he said, “but I toasted an English muffin for you. That, and a coffee.”

He didn’t need to do that. “Thanks. I need to use the little girls’ room first.” I couldn’t believe I called it that.

“Leave the door open.” The inflection in his voice was odd—part request, part demand.

“More steam?”

He shrugged. “It’s a thing.”

I left the door ajar for him. I had pissed on dates before, so that was nothing new to me.

Tommy made me leave about a half hour before he did. Yeah, I had hung around. I hid near his car (of course, I knew his car), and after he drove off, I went back into his apartment building and looked for a hidden key. There wasn’t one. I didn’t have any plans for what I would do if I had found one.

I went back maybe a week later. I had thought to go back before then, but I didn’t want to be coerced into sex or, worse, told to fuck off. Fuck him either way. I stood back from the peephole with my arms crossed and looked as disinterested as I could.

“Hey. What time is it?”

“I dunno,” I said. The bars had been closed for about an hour. “You busy? I can stop by later if this is a bad time for you.”

“Fuck you. Get out of the hallway.”

I didn’t know if that meant come in or go away.

“Don’t just stand there, get your ass inside.”

“Thanks,” I mumbled. I stood nervously by the door as he locked it back up.

We stared at each other for a while before he finally asked, “Here for the shower?”

I nodded. And the couch, too, but I didn’t ask.

“I get to watch.”

I nodded again.

He put some used towels on the floor and drew back the shower curtain. I wished I could have at least gotten undressed in private, but a deal’s a deal. I stepped out of my dress and looked for a place to hang it. Tommy offered to hold it—probably planned to sniff it when I wasn’t looking.

He seemed disappointed that I hadn’t peed first, that is, until I peed in the shower. Damned if he hadn’t caught me and stared. Hey, my tits are up here. I rinsed a dozen layers off his shitty bar of soap before lathering up. Beggars can’t be choosers, but I wasn’t begging—I was transacting business. “You got anything better than this?”

He told me to take it or leave it. “No biggy,” I said. “Just asking.”

Damn, he obviously wanted to jack off. I should have told him to go ahead and save me the effort.

By the time I had dried off and came out in my sleep shirt, Tommy had a plate of ninety-nine-cent-a-pound cheese product, not-Ritz crackers, and grapes that were close to becoming raisins.

“Want a beer?”

The offer surprised me. “I thought you didn’t buy beer.” He shrugged and set the can in front of me. “Where are the other five?”

“I only bought the one,” he said, which hadn’t clicked with me until later. “So, Honey, tell me about your day.”

I laughed at the question. “You don’t want to know.”

“Yeah, I kinda do.”

Well, well, well… I thought about my dates and picked what I thought was a good one. “Okay, there was this one black guy. Now, if you have any insecurities about white dicks versus black dicks, let me put you at ease.” The cheese didn’t taste all that bad on an empty stomach. “Well, I ooo’d and aah’d about how long and thick it was, anyway.”

“What did he want? What did you do?”

I started with the truth, but where’s the fun in that? A little exaggeration never hurt anybody. “He wanted a free sample,” I continued, “and I told him no way. I rubbed his crotch and told him to show me his money. Now if he were you, he’d have cum already. Remember our first time?”

“But he didn’t cum right away, right?”

“No. He was really hard, like really hard. ‘Don’t make me sad,’ I said to him. ‘I want that big, black cock in my tight, wet, white pussy.’” I looked at Tommy and said, “You like my pussy, don’t you?”

He swallowed hard. “The tightest.”

I finished my beer and tipped my head back to drip the last few drops onto my tongue. I have the longest fucking tongue. “So, I said, ‘Your place or mine?’ and he said for us to go out behind this bar down the street.”

“You said his cock wasn’t big.”

“Let’s compare,” I said, and pulled out Tommy’s dick. “I said it wasn’t big for a black guy.” That’s not what I had said earlier, but I thought that’s what Tommy wanted to hear. I thumbed the pre-cum around his tip, taking care not to set him off, and said, “Yours is almost as big as his.” Tommy was breathing harder. I bet he was thinking of baseball.

“So, I took off my panties and wiggled my ass for him,” I continued. “He bitched about the condom. That’s what I like about you, Tommy. You never bitch about condoms. He stopped bitching when I slowly rolled it on him, ‘cause you know how sexy I make that.” Tommy pushed my hand away. His dick twitched, but he didn’t cum.

“Did he fuck you against the wall?”

“Naw, Baby, he bent me over and took me real good from behind. ‘Gimme that big, black cock,’ I told him. It felt so good sliding in, and I told him how much. He was pounding me hard, you know, and making me squeal. He called me a white whore, a white bitch, a white whatever he could think of and I told him over and over how good his big black cock felt in my little white pussy.”

“Did it? Feel good?” Tommy asked.

I brushed my fingertips up and down Tommy’s cock, tickling it. “The truth?”

He nodded.

It was awful. “Yeah, Baby, it felt real, real good.”

“Really?” Tommy had his eyes closed. “Did you cum?”

“No lie?” Hell, no. “Twice. I came twice and everyone could hear me when I did.” Yeah, Tommy wanted the lies as much as my date did. I wrapped my fist around his cock and waited until he looked at me. I only had to tug once. Fuck me, Tommy was a cum machine. No wonder he couldn’t hold it in.

“Baby, I’m kinda beat.” I wrapped my arms around his neck. “You said I could crash here for the night, right?” No, he hadn’t, but I knew he would. Hell, I was already in my sleep shirt. He told me to give him a hand making the bed. I pretended like the couch would be fine this time while I followed him into the bedroom. There was a pile of bed sheets in the corner, simple, white, cheap ones, and fresh, folded ones on the bare mattress, just as white, just as cheap, but wonderful.

“I get the bed too,” he said when we were done. “I know, just sleep, no funny business.”

“I’d like that.” No lie.

That wasn’t the last time I invited myself to spend the night, and the number of days between sleepovers dwindled. Sometimes he’d have a midnight snack for me, or a beer, and sometimes not. A handjob once got me a big bag of day-old goods from this new kid at a nearby bakery. We ate well that night and the next morning, and Tommy held off from cumming long enough for me to eat the donut I stuck on his hard-on.

He bought me presents now and then: cards for public transit and laundromats. I told him he was stupid for wasting his money like that, and he was, but they were better than gold.

Business. I repeatedly whored myself for a hot shower and warm bed by telling a man stories about how big a whore I was. In a way, I was kind of cucking the man lying in bed beside me, the man who wasn’t allowed to touch me, by telling him about the men who were, and how much I love-love-loved being their whore.

I had given happy endings to more men than I’d like to count, but none of them were happier than Tommy.

Anyway, it was my final night with Tommy, remember? I had to tell how I got there first for it to have any meaning.

“Boy, is my cunt sore.” I didn’t waste any time starting the stories about my night.

He locked the door and said, “Yeah?”

“Yeah, but good sore. Used sore. All those men, and thank goodness none of them had to be you.” I turned my back long enough for him to snatch my panties, give them a whiff, and put them back. He wouldn’t do it if I watched. “I must have had a hundred orgasms, and the god-damned losers all paid me to have them. Who could be a bigger loser than them?”

We both knew the answer.

I let the shower melt away the layers of makeup from my face and thought about what story I’d tell him that night. I got paid a lot for a spit-roast, so maybe I’d tell that one.

“How much to take a shower with you?”

He surprised me with that one. I didn’t think he was serious, and I really didn’t want to share my invaluable alone time, so I gave him a ridiculously high number. He gave me a counteroffer. We dickered, and he stripped. He hugged me from behind, and I felt his cock pulse between my ass cheeks and empty itself right away. He knew that was going to happen, which made paying for it even stupider.

I washed his limp dick, and he washed the sticky cum from my back. He gave me a scalp massage that almost made me give him a discount. He sucked on my tit, and I let him, but I stopped him when he tried to finger me. “Pay for the pussy, Baby, you gotta pay for the pussy.”

“I paid to wash you. That includes your precious pussy.”

He had only paid for a shower, but I let it go. I wasn’t lying about being sore, and his gentle touch actually made me feel better. He wasn’t fucking me with his finger, he was fondling me from the inside. “That feels nice, Baby.”

“No lie?”

“No lie.” I didn’t think he’d be doing that for long, but then I got the chills and tingles. “Don’t stop. Just keep doing what you’re doing.” Before I knew it, a little moan escaped my lips, and I lifted my hips to meet his tender probes. I was surprised by my little climax, and rewarded him by telling him his finger was worth more than his dick.

“My tongue is worth more than my finger.”

I was tired and wanted nothing more than a good night’s rest, but Tommy was being more assertive than usual. “Pay for the pussy.”

“Add it to my tab.” He squatted and gave my cunt a long lap.

My God, I found out right away that this man’s mouth and tongue knew their way around a pussy. I put my hands on his shoulders and taunted him. “When were you planning to start?”

Between licking and sucking, he told me to tell him about my day. I didn’t tell him about the spit-roast, I told him about the big dick that wouldn’t cum.

“Baby, you should have seen it. That cock was a thick as my arm and it made me gag, I mean really gag. I sucked and jerked on it, and he wouldn’t cum. He laughed at me, Baby, he laughed at what a poor cocksucker I was ‘cause no matter what I did, he wouldn’t cum. I sucked and jerked and licked him raw. You wanna know what I did? I stuck my finger up his ass and he shot his load right into my mouth. I showed him, too. I opened my mouth as wide as I could and showed him how big his load was.”

I suddenly stopped my storytelling when Tommy gave me a whopper of an orgasm. I damn near slipped in the shower and could have killed us both. He sat in the tub, gasping for breath, when I finally let go of his head.

That was worth every penny he paid.

I asked him if he was up for his bedtime story. I was exhausted and wanted to take my afterglow to bed.

“I have supper first,” he said, and took a foil-wrapped something out of his oven.

I pointed out that it was closer to breakfast. When he opened it up, the aroma of barbecued ribs filled the room.

“I made them myself.”

“Maybe one or two,” I said, taking four. “Did you rob a bank or something?”

“Or something.” He popped a beer open for me and said, “I’ll give you a dollar if you let me lick some of that sauce off your boob.”

“You’re on!” I laughed and peeled my shirt off. I didn’t want to get any on my clothes, anyway.

I asked him if I ever told him about the “titty-fuck” guy. “Oh, my God, all the girls, all he ever wants to do is to hump our tits. Big tits, little tits, it doesn’t matter. Even this trans girl, you know? He’ll cum all over my tits and then, are you ready, he eats his cum. Uh-huh, he licks ‘em clean. Ever do that?”

“Sure, who doesn’t like a good titty fuck?” He made a face and shook his head when I said that I meant did he ever eat his own cum?

“Lots of guys do,” I informed him. “I could have gotten a lot of money to let a guy go bareback and eat it out of me. I’m not gonna do that, but some of the girls will.”

With happy bellies, we went into the bedroom. There were clean sheets on the bed like always, but these were new ones with blue flowers stitched around the sides and bottom. The stitching was worn, but the sheets were softer than any I had ever felt.

“I found them marked down at a thrift store,” Tommy said. “I don’t think people knew what they had there.”

Alarm bells were going off, with Tommy spending all that money on me, and now those extra-special sheets. I made myself believe that it didn’t matter. I wasn’t going anywhere else that night, so I might as well get it over with.

“Once upon a time…” We had a position. I was kind of like a big spoon, lying behind him with my leg over his. He lay mostly on his side, with his bottomless bottom half twisted up so I could reach. I fondled his balls and stroked his taint. “On a street corner far, far away…”

His cock twitched. He’d last a little longer since he had cum earlier, but I still had to jerk lightly. “So, these two guys wanted to spit-roast me. Guys like that try to get off cheap, but I’ve learned better. They were young, you know, entitled types. They pulled their dicks out and argued about who was gonna do what.”

Tommy asked if they had big ones, and I said that they sure were. “They weren’t two-fisters, mind you, but yeah, good and meaty.”

“So, you knew you were gonna like it,” Tommy said between heavy breaths.

I gave him a warning squeeze and told him to let me tell my story. “What girl wouldn’t like two thick cocks at once? So, I told the guy I was gonna blow that I’d let him cum in my mouth if he rolled the rubber on his bro. You never heard two people say ‘no way’ quicker! I made BJ Boy wait until the other guy was inside. And yes, he filled me up just right.“

Tommy relaxed into the story. I think he was picturing it. “I braced myself so I didn’t get knocked over when that big ol’ dick pounded me from behind. I was moaning all over the other guy’s cock, and I was being really sloppy about it. I was playing with his nuts just like I’m playing with yours.”

Oh, yeah, Tommy liked to hear that alright. I told him about how much I squealed and moaned, and then I moaned and squealed for him. “Can you imagine it, Baby?”

He said, “Fuck,” and then, “Fuck you.”

I laughed unkindly, but just a little. “Baby, you would have cum and gone out to watch a movie by the time these guys were done with me. The one tried to cum in my mouth, but I was ready for him, even when he tried to aim his cock at my face. His cum spurted up like a thumb over a garden hose, and his buddy, well, I made him show me the very full condom to make sure he hadn’t shredded it.”

“And Baby…” I bit Tommy’s earlobe and whispered, “That orgasm I had earlier with you was nothing, nothing compared to what those two boys did for me, so don’t think you’re anything special.” He really liked that one and groaned when I jerked his load into a hand towel.

I didn’t want to soil those new sheets, did I? I rolled over and, for a change, fell asleep right away.

The smell of bacon woke me up. I rubbed the sleep from my eyes and found a whole fucking plate of bacon, a fucking pound of bacon, and cooed, “Tommy, baby.”

“Bend over.”

I didn’t get the joke, and it must have been all over my face. He abruptly pulled the chair away from the table and repeated himself. “I said bend over. We’re gonna fuck first.”

I didn’t like the joke and told him that I wasn’t going to fuck him for bacon. He counted out some bills next to the plate, grabbed my wrist, and planted my palm on the table. Okay, this wasn’t my first table, so I said, “Sure, baby,” and told him I needed to pee first.

“Pee on your own time.” This was definitely not like him, but I went along. I stripped my panties off and assumed the position while he put his condom on. It was a good thing it was lubricated because, goddamn, I wasn’t ready for him to slam it in like he did. He pulled back and shoved it in again.

“Easy, Baby…”

Tommy slapped my ass—Tommy slapped my ass—and said, “Shut your cunt up, you whore.”

I too easily slipped into character and said, “Yeah, Baby, I’m your whore.”

He spanked me again, harder, and told me again to shut up, louder, and humped me like a bitch, humped me with my nose inches away from the bacon. “God, I hate you,” he said, under his breath. I didn’t understand, but at that moment, I believed him.

Cumming twice the night before must have taken the pressure off him, because he lasted a lot longer than usual before his final thrust and grunts—not long, really, but longer. He told me to take care of the filled condom while I was in the bathroom, and he didn’t follow me in to watch. I was a little worried about who I’d find when I was done, and considered my exit plans.

Champagne. A tiny bottle of champagne and a carton of orange juice were there for me. “How do you want your eggs?”

I was confused but hungry, so I chose not to say anything except, “Scrambled is fine.”

The rest of the morning was normal. Tommy was back to normal. Still, I got my shit together and left before I had to.

It was a while before I dared to go back. The lure of a good bed with clean sheets outweighed any worries. I knocked before I noticed the folded note taped to his door: Taylor. See Gladys in 3B.

That was right across the hall. I sat with my back against Tommy’s door to wait for morning. If I got kicked out before then, oh, well. I managed to doze and was awakened by a woman’s gruff voice. “Hey. Hey, you. What are you doing here?” It was 3B.

“I’m Taylor,” I said as I stood. “I have a note,” and I held it up like a shield.

Gladys huffed, looked me up and down, and told me to stay put. She returned with an envelope for me. “Tom was a good neighbor,” she said. There was a key in the envelope, folded into a blank piece of paper. “The building super is an asshole. So’s the landlord,” Gladys said before closing her door. “I ain’t gonna say nothin’.”

Was a good neighbor. I let myself in, and called out for Tommy. The place was mostly empty. The couch was there, and the kitchen table and chairs were there. The good bed was there, too, unmade, with four sets of clean and folded sheets, including the fancy ones with the blue flowers.

I found another note: The rent is paid up for two more months. It’s controlled, cheap, even for this neighborhood. It went on about how the bank automatically pays the rent, and where to deposit cash into the account. Nobody will know the difference if you keep your head down. Gladys is cool, but don’t try to be her friend.

That was it: no goodbyes, no explanation. It’s not like he owed me any. I owed him, now. We weren’t even, and I hated not being even. That’s the reason I cried in the shower.

Anyway, I make the other girls chip in when they can, which has been enough so far, and I have an address to put on job applications.

That’s it. That’s the end of my story. You and me, we’re even now.