Chapter 14 Never Angel
never angel
Cian
“Which situation?” I steady my voice, trying to keep the calm I know she needs. “Because, Angel, there are several.”
“Well,” she hesitates, and there’s a deep inhale before she rushes out the rest. “All of them.” She’s not even acknowledging me asking her not to run. She’s sure as hell not agreeing.
“Murphy Enterprises will be shuttered, but I have some legal and accounting matters to handle first. I have an audit scheduled so that I know assets and liabilities. I need to know when the dirty money came in, how long it’s been flowing, and what it funded.
I took a salary but also had an ownership stake, so there are threads to untangle so that I can be free. ”
“Just like that?”
“Just like that makes it sound quick. The decision was easy to make—I’ll explain that in person—but it certainly doesn’t come at no cost.”
“I’m sorry, Ci.”
“Me too.” I scrub a hand through my hair. “As for the personal relationship, I plan to keep one with my mom. But as far as my father goes, I can’t see that being viable.”
That sounds clinical, but it’s the best I have right now.
“I can’t imagine.”
I drop my voice. “Don’t think that’s entirely truthful, Angel. You left a lot behind to make a new life, and it seems that’s been a good decision for you.”
She pauses before offering two quick words. “It was.”
“I’m going to lay it all out there with you, not because I want to scare you off—because I really don’t—but because I want to lay a foundation of trust between us.”
She sucks in a breath, and I stop my pacing.
“I don’t know whether the house I’m in was funded with drug money.
I don’t think it was. I bought it in foreclosure, and not as a business asset, and did a significant reno to it.
But if it was, it’ll be seized, or I’ll need to sell it.
The man you saw on Friday was readying to launch a business but had a job and a home.
Today, only the first is true.” Tilting my chin up, I stare at the ceiling, exposing my throat physically and figuratively.
“You need to know the baggage I come with.”
The sigh that comes across the line is deep. “I’ll take an honest, ethical man over a rich one a hundred times out of a hundred.” There’s a long pause before she adds quietly, “And you don’t know my baggage.”
“But I want to, Angel. I want to.”
“I know, Ci. I want that too.” I scan the street, always watchful. “I’m just scared.”
“Can we be brave together?”
There’s a longer pause than I’m comfortable with, and I wait, holding my breath, wondering what my fate will be.
“I’m willing. Please don’t give up on me. I want to try.”
“I’d take that one hundred times out of one hundred opportunities, Sariah. And for you, a hundred thousand out of the same.”
“Cian.” My name is a prayer on her lips.
“Right here, Angel.”
“Can I be there for your surgery?” She sounds nervous, and that breaks me.
“I’d love that. By then, I might not be at my sister and brother-in-law’s place. Ayla’s holding on by her fingernails… half love, half threats.”
“Okay?” Her voice is questioning.
“They have a McMansion so I could live in one wing, and they’d never know, but Ayla is acting like out of her sight equals out of her life, so it’s been different. I’ve been alone a long time. Just me and Eleanor anyway.”
“Eleanor?”
“My dog. She’s a highly trained incredible pound puppy.”
“That you named Eleanor.” Her voice holds a smile that bleeds through the line.
“It fits. You’ll see.”
“What’s that smile about?” Ayla calls from the doorway.
“Is that Ayla?” the voice at my ear asks.
“Yes,” I offer Sariah while squinting my one good eye at my annoying little sister.
“Gimme.” Ayla makes a grabby gesture at my phone.
“I—” It’s the last thing I get out before the phone is swiped from my good side and my sister plops on my bed to chat with my… My what? My girl? My lady?
All I know is she is my past and she is my future.
Sariah
“Sariah?” My name sounds foreign in a voice I can’t mistake.
“Yes.”
“This is Ayla. Ci told me everything. I’m so…”
“Not everything,” comes the deep voice that makes my insides turn to goo.
“Okay. So not everything everything. But some of everything. And I’m so excited to see you. How long has it been?”
“It’s been a while. Long before you were a hotshot world-famous photographer.”
“Yeah, well, I don’t even remember that happening so…” she trails off.
Huh? “What?” I turn and start heading back toward my office. They’re not sticklers for hours, but I like being consistent. It makes it easier when I need time off or decide to work from home.
“My brother didn’t mention my amnesia?” She continues, but the next part obviously isn’t for me. “You didn’t tell her? I mean, I don’t need to be the center of your conversations but that’s kind of big information.”
“He told me about the bear.” I offer, hoping it will smooth things over.
“Of course he did. It was one time. Well, technically it was twice, but the one time he’s freaking out over is because of Ellie.” Is it possible her speech is getting faster and faster?
“It is not,” Cian huffs from the background
“It so is,” she half laughs, half scoffs. “I endangered his precious girl and I’ve never heard the end of it.”
“It was a bear,” the man beside her enunciates.
“It was a cub,” she says as if explaining something to a six-year-old.
“And its mother.” Ci’s voice sounds pained.
I’m apparently not in this conversation, but I can’t not listen. It’s entertaining, and hearing them bicker puts a smile on my face.
“Sariah?”
“Yes.”
“I want to get to know you. And Renée if that’s okay. I know we don’t know each other, but I’d like to fix that,” Ayla says with softness and sincerity.
“I’d like that, Ayla. Though my daughter thinks the two of you could take on the world together, and she’s wondering how to make that happen. Especially since she thinks adults are stupid.”
Laughter hits my ears. “Yeah. I still think adults are stupid, even though I am one. I’ll text you my number. Let’s find some time. If lunch is better, we’ll make that happen.”
“Hey. What about me?” That’s Cian, and he sounds affronted.
“I’ll have lunch with you, too, big brother.” When her voice returns to me, she says, “Passing you back to Ci now. Great catching up. Can’t wait to see you, Sariah.”
“Tornado,” Cian says. “The woman is a tornado. Pops up out of nowhere, inflicts her damage, and fizzles away as if nothing happened.”
I can’t help but laugh. “So nothing’s changed then?”
“Nothing’s changed, except my pain pill has kicked in, and I’m groggy. If I fight it much longer, I get nauseated and that’s a risk I’m unwilling to take.”
“Sleep well, Ci. Thanks for not giving up on me.”
“Never, Angel. Never.” With that, he clicks off and I head back into my office to keep poking holes in the work the team is doing on the app.
It hasn’t been a week. It literally hasn’t been a week since that Thursday night drinks invitation I’d never normally accept but did despite my best efforts to dodge my coworkers when it came time to go. I didn’t even go home to change.
High end wine bar, huge going out to-see-and-be-seen scene, and I rolled out in my office wear with only some added lipstick. I’d be a terrible wing woman.
And in the days since, my world has collided with my past, I’ve reconnected with the man I never stopped thinking about, and I’ve feared for my family’s safety.
In that same timeframe, he’s gone for a hike, taken me on a date, been beaten up requiring a hospital visit, scheduled surgeries—plural, and lost a job and maybe a house.
I’m not saying we’re doomed, but so far it doesn’t feel like things are going well.
Except for my spirits.
And my heart.
And the butterflies that are rocking “Gangnam Style” in my belly from the time I wake to the time I drift to sleep.
When I get home, the goofy grin that comes from deep in my soul is still in place. That is, until my daughter’s attitude starts attituding.
“I’m trying to beat this level.”
“I get that, Née, but the level will be there after dinner.”
“It’s timed.” How whiny can she make that word sound? “RoRo understands.”
“She might, but she’s not here, and we have a rule about devices at the table.”
She cries. She literally sets her phone down hard enough to break it and cries.
I’m torn. She’s a teen, and a hormonal one at that, but she doesn’t freak out like this.
On the flip side, she likes getting her way and more often than not does when she’s with her grandmother.
That’s what grandmothers are for. I wish I’d had one to spoil me too.
I want to fix it, but more so, I want electronics and devices not to have this much control or worm their way in this deep. Too late. The world is what it is.
And I know that’s rich coming from a woman in pen testing and cyber security who’s online all day every day, but a girl can dream.
When the tears have subsided and dinner is mostly done, I offer an olive branch. “I’d love for you to show me the game after dinner. Did you show RoRo?”
“Yeah. She downloaded it. She added me, and we can play against each other if we want. If she gets good, I can add her to my team too.”
Leave it to Rosie to bond with Renée right where she is.
“Well, if you get a shower, I’ll do dishes, then you can show me. If you’d rather do the cleanup, I’d understand.”
She practically levitates, clearing her plate to the sink, and rushes into the bathroom. Either she’s addicted or doesn’t want to clean.
Both. Always both.
Dishes done, daughter clean and fresh, lunches made for tomorrow, I bail on the sofa with Renée and our phones to begin learning this game.
This is something no amount of parenting guides help with—keeping up with the games, interest, the lingo.
I swear sometimes she says whole sentences where I can’t decipher a single word.
I download the game, set up a user profile, and get disjointed instruction from the thirteen-year-old whose thumbs fly across her screen like she’s clairvoyant with where things will happen next.
I’ll figure it out. Not enough to see it in my dreams as things tend to do when I’m immersed, but enough to chat with my girl and be on her team if she wants it.
I play for a while, getting the basics, and watch a few YouTube creators about how to think about the game and level up quickly.
Hours come and go and when I realize it’s after midnight, I chide myself for my one-more-try mentality that will hurt tomorrow.
I flip to my messaging app and see two new texts from Cian.
Cian: I slept through the time I would’ve called to tell you goodnight. I need to know best times for you. We’re not invincible anymore. I’m sure you have a schedule. I do… Or did.
Cian: Anyway, sweet dreams, Angel. Hope your day was great. Except for how well they work, I hate the meds I’m on. Don’t do drugs, kids.