Page 140 of Stories From The 6 Train

“That must be Michael,” Lance thinks and I’m almost tempted to say speak of the devil.

It’s funny. I want to stay mad at Lance, but I’ve already forgotten what that’s like. But Michael. I’m not mad at Michael. It’s just a chill that runs through me when I see him walk in the door.

He doesn’t have the human feelings that are supposed to be in people. Something like that. No way else to explain any of this…

“Hello,” Michael says walking in. “I just wanted to stop by, welcome you to my city, and visit my granddaughter.”

Lance shakes his hand and I bite back the urge to tell him he’s not related to our little family in any way. I was never married to him. He was never Lance’s father. But I stop.

“She’s beautiful,” Michael says bending over and examining Lola Grace.

The baby looks up at Michael, in a few minutes she’ll be crawling around the apartment, exploring. But for now, she’s content to stay bundled up where she is.

Michael gets up and turns around.

He hands Lance an envelope.

“Come back to work for the company and the campaign son,” he says to him. “Here is everything I have, and I think I’ve met your conditions.”

“The media hitting you that badly, huh?” Lance asks.

Michael shakes his head. “Not at all, actually,” he says. “They’ve e

mbraced this whole breaking barriers thing I’m putting up at them. Really taking the narrative of the first openly gay mayor to heart.”

“Then why do you want me back?” Lance asks with suspicion.

Michael shrugs. “Well, considering that I have no need for a family, having the two of you there associated with me can only help in the polls,” he says. He looks out the windows. “I mean, with the city the way it is and problems always cropping up, you can never have too few positives on your side of the table.”

Lance looks at Michael for a second. There’s a lot of history between those two men. A lot of anger. Pain. Hurt.

Finally he nods his head. “I can give you another chance,” he says and Michael smiles.

The two shake hands. There’s a moment.

Then Michael turns to me. He knows better than to take a step closer.

“Jocelyn,” he says. “I’ve given Lance copies of everything I had on your father. He’s free and no longer ever has to worry.”

I nod. It’s going to take time for me to trust Michael. But if Lance is willing to try, I can match.

Michael says his goodbyes after a while and I turn to Lance. He grabs me in his arms, and the two of us walk to the floor to ceiling windows of One57. Of our new home.

Our new life. Together.

Just the way I want it.

A Goodbye From Lance

Jocelyn really wanted to be the person that got to say goodbye to you. But I got here first, and since it’s only really one of us that talks to you at a time, I guess this is my turn.

But no, really, I wanted to tell you how fucking awesome I think you are for making it this far. Most novels are 40,000 to 50,000 words. If you’re reading this, babe, you’ve just digested 82,000 words of fucking story. Actually, wait, that’s pretty much what it was, wasn’t it? A story about fucking? Or a fucking story?

Whatever, listen, this is all I came to tell you and I wanted to tell you a bit about the chick who wrote this because she doesn’t usually like doing things the normal way.

So her name is Alexis Angel and she usually has all this shit she puts down about how she likes having fun and shit and whatever the fuck girls talk about they like to buy, and Jocelyn even gave me a list of things to say but I fucking forgot. It’s not my fault. Jocelyn got these black yoga pants from Lululemon and I was just staring at that ass. Wanted to fucking bury my face in those fucking cheeks. And slap that ass while I was rubbing my face in it. Got my cock so fucking hard I swear to God its a fucking wonder I’m even sitting here talking to you instead of fucking her right now. But I gotta do this first because Alexis took the fucking time to write about us that Jocelyn won’t forgive me if I forget.

What am I even talking about? Oh, right. So, you can reach Alexis at [email protected] if you want to email her about anything. She loves all the normal shit that girls do, but I sometimes think she’s a fucking dirty girl too at heart. I mean, she made us describe the sex we had in such fucking detail. Like, ‘where did you move your hand after that? How hard did you squeeze her nipple? What did it feel like when her tongue was at the tip of your cock? What about when it was on your shaft?’