Chapter 20
Julie
Housing Court didn’t do anything for me, because of course they didn’t.
I sat in that waiting room for the longest thirty minutes of my life after Helena left, and finally they saw fit to call me up to the counter to tell me—I shit you not—that’s criminal, not civil.
When I explained the police had sent me to them, saying that’s civil, not criminal, the woman at the counter shook her head and said the housing case was civil, the matter of my locked-out belongings was criminal, and to go to the police.
I went to the police again after, and when they told me that’s civil, not criminal, go to Housing Court, I explained that no, I went to Housing Court and they told me that the housing case was civil, the matter of my locked-out belongings was criminal, and the officer shook her head and said we can file a report, and that’s all we can do, so I filed a fucking report and left.
But Helena was a woman of her word. I sent an invoice for six thousand, because—I don’t know, I felt like taking five hundred off the requested amount was my only way to apologize—and she almost immediately paid it with a thousand-dollar advance for future work, so I guess she won that round.
Seven thousand dollars. Enough to pay off Daniel, book a flight back to Missouri, and get a hotel for a night or two until my flight.
In the end, everything about this was Helena. Of course she was. Everything else was just things. Money and champagne and limousines were all just things. What was the reason we actually did these things, pursued these things, if not for people? If not for Helena?
I sent Daniel the payment in full, thanking him for his patience.
I explained it as an insurance payout so he didn’t get too suspicious, and he was glowing, telling me to work with him again anytime at his members’ rate.
The time came and went for the mixer, and I booked a shitty chain hotel in the Bronx, not far from the music studio, where I went inside and took a shower, crying against the wall as I did.
Cried and cried and cried until I was so cried out that by the time I got out of the shower and toweled off, I was just empty and done, a hollow shell of a woman, and I collapsed in bed and fell instantly asleep, even with the curtains open and the sun still out.
Which backfired when I woke up at midnight, but whatever.
It gave me time to browse flight websites, compare prices against hotel stays to find what was cheapest and if it was better to book last-minute or book a hotel stay until a more reasonable flight, and I went to contact Mom about going back earlier than planned before I realized it was the middle of the night.
So I guess I’d talk to her in the morning. Great. Something to look forward to. Having to explain what lesbian meant again. In the meantime, I’d stay right here and just… what, sleep?
I hadn’t had nothing to do in so damn long.
Or I guess it was only a couple months, but damn if they weren’t the longest months in my life.
I felt restless sitting here now with free time, confused how my life had collapsed around my ears and yet there wasn’t really anything to do right now.
I should have been scrambling, picking up pieces.
But there was nothing worth doing. No work left to be done now. No clients to charm, no sense trying to make deliveries right now, nothing.
Had I spent two years wallowing like this? I hated it.
Of course, where did hard work get me? All that effort and my big lucky break succeeded in getting me right back to square one: no debt, no suit, no hope, no girlfriend, and ready to go back to Missouri.
Well, I thought, goodbye, New York City.
You’ve been good to me.
I wasn’t sure how long I’d been lying there before my phone buzzed, but one thing I knew was that it was almost two in the morning and nobody had any damn business trying to get in touch with me, let alone the stupid son of a bitch whose name was on the phone.
For some godforsaken reason, I picked up.
“What the hell do you want now, Kingmaker?”
“Yo, where you at?” he said. “I got something for you. Come grab it. I’m at my office.”
“Fuck off, dude. We already had this conversation. We’re done. I’m leaving.”
“Nah, nah.” I could practically hear the turntables. Ugh. “It’s just one li’l thing.”
“Fuck off. Even if I were so inclined, I’m not walking alone in the Bronx in the middle of the night to go to a sketchy office that’s not supposed to exist. You decided I’m worth more as a human trafficking victim?”
“Aight, sure, whatever. Where you staying right now?”
“Why would I tell you that?”
“I’m coming around to give you this, if you don’t wanna walk.”
“Are you even gonna tell me what it is, dude? I’m pretty sure it’s gonna be a knife in the gut at this rate.”
“It’s your suit, man. Daniel’s gonna be pissed off at you if you just leave it. And worse, he’s gonna be pissed off at me.”
I stared up at the ceiling for a long time, not really taking it in, and the next thing I knew, I was down in the hotel lobby, the only ones here as I let Kingmaker in through the doors with a shopping cart and two big trash bags in it, like he was the homeless one around here and not me.
Minus the suit protector draped over them. That one wasn’t giving hobo.
“Just crashing in a hotel for now, huh?” he said, and I folded my arms.
“Dude, how the hell did you get this?”
“I got contacts. Some guy came around the night you got kicked out and hauled all this stuff to a dumpster a couple blocks away.”
“You got contacts. Trash contacts?”
“Pays to have people in all kinds of places.”
Carefully, I lifted the suit protector out of the cart, turning it slowly, looking at it from every angle. The suit protector was disgusting, stained and rank-smelling, but fittingly enough, it had protected the suit. It was still crisp inside, and I gripped the hanger tighter.
“Well… tell your eyes and ears in the trash world that I said thanks,” I said quietly. He shrugged, hands in his pockets. He was still wearing the stupid fucking tracksuit and durag. Did he sleep in them?
“Yeah, will do. Hope your shit goes all right.”
“Of course it’s not. Made it back to square one in the end. Shouldn’t have even fucking tried. And now I won’t. I’m out of this stupid fucking city.”
He hunched his shoulders. “So you’re turning and running after all?”
“Dude, seriously, shut the fuck up. Just because you brought me my suit back doesn’t mean I’m not pissed off at you for all of this shit to begin with.”
“Nah, yeah, no, it’s.” He dropped his arms by his sides, and gone was Kingmaker in an instant, the whole act disappeared, and suddenly he was just a guy.
Some divine entity finally heard my prayers, and hallelujah, he reached up and took off the stupid fucking durag, rustling the hair on the top of his head.
“I wanted to say sorry,” he said, his hammy accent gone now.
“Truth is, I don’t know what I’m doing. And I guess I got upset seeing you getting all these things going right for you, and just… I dunno.”
“What kind of life coach gets jealous of his student’s success?
” I shook my head. “Also, all these things going right is a hell of a stretch. I barely managed to hustle enough to cover my rent and debt payments. I was mostly just doing a shitload of unpaid labor. You’re just jealous Helena Warrick and I got to have sex, and honestly…
” I cleared my throat. “You know, yeah, fair, I’d be jealous too.
Actually, might be the first time in my life I really feel you on something. ”
“You know, truth is, I’m actually just starting out on the life coaching thing,” he said. “I didn’t want to have to admit this, but, uh… actually, you’re… you’re my only client.”
“Dude, I fucking know.”
“What?” He looked horrified.
“I knew you were flying by the seat of your ugly gold sweatpants the whole time. I didn’t know what I was doing either. Guess I figured we were figuring it out together.”
“But I was—I had the whole act going.”
“Yeah, maybe work harder on it.”
“Shit, man.” He sighed. “Always wanted to be the Kingmaker. Guess if it were easy, everyone would be doing it.”
“Look, for one thing, you gotta lose the durag, it’s weird when a white guy wears one. Second, just… I don’t know, dude. You’ve got a genuinely crazy network of people. I think you’d be good at this kind of thing, just quit trying to be something you’re not.”
He slumped against the wall. “Now I got you coaching me.”
“I dunno, man.” I shrugged, hands in my pockets. “Guess… guess I’ve learned a lot from this. Stupid fucking mess that this was, I guess I gotta admit I’ve grown from it. But you probably have, too. Maybe one day you’ll be a kingmaker yet.”
“Sucks to see you go. I really do want to see you be a king.”
“I’m gonna level with you, I think you gotta drop this weird obsession with being a king, too.”
He just shrugged. I sighed, looking at the stupid fucking shopping cart parked in a hotel lobby with a luxury tailored suit in it. What the hell was my life?
“You know,” I said quietly, “in a weird way, it almost kinda worked. I sure had a hell of an experience. And I got to spend some time with Helena, so… thanks. Seriously.”
“You two break up?”
“Yeah. I mean, we weren’t dating, but we definitely stopped whatever we were doing. She was pissed off I’d lied to her, because obviously, but she was still… still pitched in to help out with my situation. Still cared about me even then.” I shook my head. “I’m really gonna fucking miss her.”
“Maybe you should try to stay in contact. A king doesn’t shy away from what he wants.”
“I cannot emphasize this enough, Kingmaker. Shut the fuck up.”
He laughed. “It’s been real, Julie. Good luck out there, whatever happens next.”