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It felt good to be there with Collen; it felt like a safe
house to Jay, like a house they have when you're on the run.
Which Jay was. He was a runner; that was his life, always
running. The first indication of things being hot, and Jay would
flee wherever, and whatever, he had to. He would put miles
between him and the heat. It was so nice to have that time of
freedom where no one could touch you. it was like a rest. Back
at the hotel there was that chance that something could come down
on him. That risk was always there, always present, but here
nothing could touch him. No one knew where he was or what he was
doing. He had felt that way each time he had met a girl and gone
to her place to sleep the night. That was the only real vacation
Jay had taken since he left his Granny's house where he grew up
in North Carolina.
To Collen, Jay seemed very distant, miles away, but she knew
it was good grass. She had just scored it that day, and it was
Jamaican. Bob Marley came on the radio, and Jay joined in on the
chorus, singing as though he were standing on the stage with
Marley.
"You like to sing?"
"I love to sing. It's the only thing I love as much as
making love."
"I'm not working tomorrow; it's my day off. There's a
concert. A friend of mine is a ticket
tout so tickets are no problem."
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