Free Cold City Streets by LH Thomson

point of it? He’d become a “Where are they now?” article, a trivia question. He wasn’t sure which was worse anymore: being looked down upon, or being down on himself. He was dead to football and football was dead to him; but there was nothing to move forward to, nothing to strive to achieve. Just… surviving. For Michael and for himself.
    “Cryin’ fuckin’ shame, kid, cryin’ fuckin’ shame. Here…” Buddy pulled out his clip. “Here’s your pay for the week.” He pulled off a thousand dollars in hundreds. “Don’t spend it too quick.”
    “Sure, Mr. Gaines.”
    “It’s Buddy, I keep telling you. You got anything else on tonight? You want to hang out with us at the club?” Buddy was part-owner of a strip club on the north side.
    “I’m good, Buddy. I have to go see my ex.”
    “Huh. Yeah, well I know all about that. Good luck to you, you poor bastard. John, pull over here, okay?”
    The limo pulled over to the curb. “Goodnight, kid,” Buddy said. “Don’t do nothing I wouldn’t.”
    Cobi got out. The door clunked shut behind him. He was at least twenty blocks from his car. Before he could say anything, the limo pulled back into the street and sped away. It had begun to snow again, broad, wet flakes drifting gently down, the night-bound street a grey impression of itself.
    He pulled the collar up on his coat and started walking.
     
     
     
     
    The front doorbell rang just after midnight, probably her ex. Still, Sarah woke and sat upright, glad she’d double-bolted the lock, just in case.
    She flicked on the stairway light and came downstairs quickly in her white bath robe. She checked the peephole before opening the door.
    “What the hell, Cee? Michael’s been asleep for three hours and you ring the bell…?” She pulled the door partly closed, blocking the view in with her body.
    “Mom…?” Michael had woken and stood at the top of the stairs, rubbing his eyes, a tiny, tired figure in Spider-Man pajamas.
    “Go back to sleep honey. I’ll be up soon.”
    “Who is it?”
    “It’s no one, sweetie. Back to bed, mister, now!”
    He turned groggily towards the hallway, then stumbled his way back to his room.
    Sarah opened the door fully again. Cobi looked unimpressed.
    “What was that? It’s ‘no one’? You couldn’t have said ‘It’s just your daddy,’ or something?” He’d always worried she undermined him when he wasn’t around.
    “I was dealing with it. That’s what I have to do full-time, remember? I’m the one who has to deal with everything. It’s way past his bedtime, and you shouldn’t be throwing his sleep patterns off by waking up half the neighborhood. If I told him you were here, he’d have run downstairs.”
    It still stung, but he knew she was right. He hung his head slightly. “I know… I apologize, okay? Look, I knew it was getting tight to the end of the month, so I wanted to drop by as soon as I got paid.” He handed her the roll of money.
    Sarah’s eyes widened for a moment, then her brow wrinkled. “Is this the whole thousand? How’d you make that up so quickly?”
    “I told you, pay’s okay with the new job.”
    Her frown remained. “What did you land that pays that much that quickly? The bank was a safe environment, with a good future…”
    Cobi hated the bank, the stifling, buttoned-down atmosphere, some kid right out of school telling him what to do all day. “I was making forty-two thousand, top end. We can’t both live on that in this city. Besides, you shouldn’t worry. This ain’t exactly gangster business.”
    “Cee…”
    “I took a job with Chris’ friend, Buddy Gaines.”
    “Oh! Cee…”
    “Buddy’s just…”
    “Buddy Gaines is a loan shark. You know that, I know that, everyone who knows Buddy knows that. Including Chris. Including the police – another place you could’ve gone for work instead of this…” Sarah had been involved with some of the same types when she was younger and a cheerleader, hanging out