Dead Man Calling

“Paige? This is Charles. Shawn just died.”

“Oh dear God!”

“Paige, did you know he had AIDS and Hepatitis?”

“I thought that was pretty obvious, didn’t you?”

“Hell no, I fucked him without a condom.”

“What did they tell you at the hospital?”

“It was liver failure.”

“Well, he did drink a lot when he lived with me. He went through a fifth of Jack Daniels every night. Charles, he had a really bad drinking problem before he met you.”

“Oh, well I didn’t know that either.”

“Are you going to be alright?”

“I don’t think so. I think I’m dying now too.”

“Did you call his mother and tell her?”
“Hell no! Why is this dead man my responsibility? His family didn’t care enough to fly from LA to see him in the hospital and now, because I’m white, I’m supposed to be wealthy enough to have his body shipped back to California. I’m not calling her, you call her!”
(CLICK) I walked through his apartment, which was now my apartment too.

When I opened his closet a black address book fell at my feet.

I opened it and written in bold dark numbers was the telephone contact information for his mother.

I knew he was still with me.

I picked up the phone and dialed the City of Angels.