Page 45 of Callan

This is newsworthy.And so it is whoever’s checking out the woman’s apartment upstairs.

Could that be him?

Callan?

Wait a second.

Is this story truly about more than him having sex with a married woman?

This is not the first time I’m having this feeling.

And everything sort of points in that direction.

The men walking in and out of her apartment.

Callan’s mysterious ways.

His interest in her whereabouts.

The cash lining my pockets.

The two men looking like the worst kind of thugs.

As much as I like to earn money, I truly hope I’m not getting into some serious legal problems.

The last thing I need right now is cops knocking at my door and the possibility of having a real job getting forever shattered.

I can’t live without a job.

Of course I could go back to waiting tables or delivering food for a living, but I don’t have a car.

So, I need to make this shit work, or I’ll have to go back to Philly and start from scratch, which I don’t want to.

These stupid new beginnings set me back and make me poor.

Poorer.

It’s like pushing a boulder up the hill and never making it to the top before the damn thing rolls back and crushes me under its weight.

I hold my bag of food tight against my chest and watch the husband’s car come to a stop in front of the building.

Carmen steps out of the passenger’s seat.

She wears slim-fit jeans, a bright purple jacket, and high-heeled boots.

She looks amazing. Her style is not my style, but I can see the appeal of being a walking tease.

She surely knows how to stir up drama, and men love it, from what I can tell.

She waves her husband goodbye––okay––and walks up the stairs with a spring in her step––that’s interesting.

She only glances back once, and he waves at her in response.

He seemingly has different plans for the evening as he carefully watches her enter the building before swerving his car away and vanishing around the corner.

Where has he been all these days?

And more importantly, what should I do now?

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