Jazz, the sweet kind, from days gone by, not the saxophone-heavy new kind. Blues, Billie Holiday and Robert Johnson, nice. R&B, some rap and
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including Luke, Hank and Eddie. Luke worked with Lee. Hank was his brother and a cop. Eddie was his friend and also a cop. The newspapers had broken the stories of
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Tell him to go.”
“He’s not the kind of man you tell what to do,” I shared and I heard Max chuckle
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Max,” I breathed, wanting him back.
“You like my cock,” he stated somewhat arrogantly and
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Colorado had only put one man to death since 1976, Max had to make do with Harry not breathing free and
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I never went soft. I was all hard. I’d built a shell around me no one could crack. I had reason. A really fucking good reason.
Problem was, I built that shell so hard, even I couldn’t break out of it
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See? Life sucked. For everybody.
It was just that for some, they made their way to happy
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