First You Fall

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Eight o’clock on a hot and humid summer night in The Astor, a pricey hotel on New York’s Central Park West. The paintings were original oils, the furniture heavy mahogany, and the sheets had a thread count three times higher than my hourly rate.

Not that I’d gotten to sample them.

Wel, not this time at least.

A strange hotel room with a stranger. So far, it was a pretty usual night for me. I figured I’d finish up work, stop off at home to change, and then meet my friend Freddy at a club.

What I didn’t know was that before the night was over I’d be embraced by a homeless woman, I’d ignore a cal I real y shouldn’t have, that a man I loved would turn up dead, and that a man I considered dead would come back to life.

Now, those things were unusual.

They were also just the start…

The room smel ed like expensive soap, probably because I just used so much of it. The air conditioning was too cold on my naked body, but, in my line of work, I’ve put up with worse.

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