Chapter Two
Angel
Damn it, could it get any colder? Of course it could.
It’s not even January yet, and everyone in Chicago knows that means hell hasn’t frozen over yet.
Taking the train is like accepting glass shards to the face if your scarf slips as you wait on an unsheltered part of the platform.
Today, that person is unlucky me. I got there a minute too late.
Now, I’m the unfortunate sap who has to stand on the edge, away from the warmth and safety of the enclosure.
Ugh. Still, that means I have a better shot of getting on the train first. The rest have to burrow out of their warm huddle. The selfish assholes.
Anyway, I see the train lights coming so I keep my position, knowing everyone’s going to brave the last few seconds before it reaches the platform.
They line up, trying to get on, but I’m not moving because the door will be somewhere right here, and when it comes to a stop, I’m getting my damn seat.
I might have been freezing for five minutes, but I’m getting my hard, smelly, CTA seat inside the train that will be cramped in seconds.
The train stops, and the doors open at my feet.
No one exits at my stop, so I hop right in and pick a corner seat.
Quickly, people huddle in, and we head to the Loop.
It’s crowded, but I pull out my tablet and start reading to kill the time and to avoid any strange eye contact.
I’m not a people person. At least, not anymore.
I have too many responsibilities to socialize.
Now, it’s work, home, dinner, and Noah’s homework and chores, then repeat.
I arrive at work with three minutes to spare, swirling into my chair before my boss can see me and get on my case. I work in the administrative department of a local manufacturing company, performing data entry tasks. It isn’t terribly hard work, and the pay is decent.
I sit in my small cubicle, typing away as my boss constantly looks over my shoulder, trying to find something wrong with my work.
I hate working for the man, but what can I do?
College is the furthest thing from my mind these days.
Dreams of a successful career in medicine seem to be a fleeting hope.
I had a partial ride downstate, but that is no longer an option.
My parents’ deaths left me with a brother to care for and no money to do it with.
I’d just started this as a summer job before college when they were killed in a carjacking gone wrong on the Northside.
We have a small house that was paid off with my father’s insurance from work, but that’s it.
I still have to pay taxes on everything, and the bills just to keep the small bungalow are insane.
The house hasn’t been remodeled since the nineties and it needs a massive upgrade, but there is no room in my monthly budget.
My dad’s car had been left in the Northside, and it was totaled, so I was left with no vehicle, not that I wanted to drive it with the bad memories attached to it.
Now, it’s a matter of getting to and from work or shopping on the bus every day, which sucks, but luckily, the grocery store is only a few blocks away.
It’s something I have to do on my way home from work a couple of times a week.
We are out of bread, by the way, and I didn’t have a chance to go to the store yesterday.
I made a small list on the train before I got to work so I wouldn’t forget.
My boss isn’t the nice kind when it comes to me.
He’s always on me, watching my every move.
I take off my outerwear and hang up my coat on the hook behind me after pressing the power button on my computer.
It loads as I take a seat behind my desk.
I log in and take off the straight-to-voicemail on my desk phone.
For a cubicle, it’s not bad. I’ve only been here for six months, and most of my coworkers are friendly.
The only rough spot is my superior, Mr. Cochran. He’s a real dick. He busts my ass about everything, and I have been a model employee. He’s had it out for me since the moment I started working here. A shadow casts over the cubicle wall.
“You’re pushing the clock, Ms. Scott,” Mr. Cochran says. My eyes roll so hard, I nearly strain them.
“Yes, well, my start time is nine, and I couldn’t log in until then,” I answer without turning to face him. He doesn’t deserve my attention since I have work to do. The number of files on my desk doubled right before I left yesterday, and I was told I had to finish them by the end of today.
“Yes, but what if your computer isn’t working properly?
” he adds, as if that’s my problem. Even if I arrived early, that wouldn’t change anything because it would take the IT department a good half hour to get me up and running, and I still wouldn’t start at nine.
The only person wasting their time would be me.
“Then wouldn’t that be a company issue? I don’t work in IT.”
“That kind of smart talk is the reason we don’t hire kids.” I want to tell him to fuck off, but that’s an almost guaranteed fire, but thankfully, I’m blessed by a phone call. Who knew that getting a complaint early in the morning sounded awesome?
“Excuse me, sir. I have a call.” I pick up the line and take a call from a customer with an issue before I’ve fully gotten settled.
Mercifully, the call takes too long for him, so he walks away.
A little while later, I’m halfway through my morning and I’ve managed to finish all the files and turn them in.
I’m about to return to my desk, only to get a call from the Chicago Police Department.
“Hello, may I speak with Ms. Angel Scott?” The voice on the other end sends a chill up my spine; it’s cool, calm, formal, and everything I remember from six months ago. My chest tightens, and my throat dries up.
“Speaking,” I answer. The single word struggles to find its way out.
“This is Officer Anthony Fields.”
“Oh my God, please tell me this isn’t about my brother Noah.”
“I’m afraid it is.”
“I can’t lose him,” I sigh, fighting tears.
“He’s not dead, ma’am. He’s been arrested.”
“Arrested?” You have to be shitting me.
“I’m sorry. Yes, we have Noah Scott here in our custody. Could you please come down here?” He provides me with the station information, as well as the name of the person I need to speak with.
“I’m on the way.” I can’t believe I’m headed to the police station to deal with my little brother and his shit.
We lost our parents, and I’ve been doing my best to take care of him without the state trying to take him away from me.
Luckily for me, there are so many problems with the system and so many overcrowded homes that they don’t harass me, but it wouldn’t take much for them to pull him from my custody.
My life is falling apart, but I try to hold it together, telling myself things will improve once I have a better job.
I’m far away from a promotion, and my responsibilities leave me with little opportunity for growth.
Now, I’m barely hanging on to my position because my boss finds reasons to judge me hard.
As much as I dread asking, I have to ask this bastard. “Excuse me, Mr. Cochran. I hate to do this, but I need to leave.”
“Why now?” Damn it, I forgot I had to leave early last week for a parent-teacher conference, which was stupid because they told me he is a model student. I didn’t need to be there at all. It was a waste of my time and a waste of asking for time off.
“My brother…um…”
“Don’t ‘um’ me, girl. You’re supposed to be an adult. Maybe you should send him to a home if he’s too much trouble.”
“That’s not…fair.” He has no idea what it’s like to lose most of your family and try to keep the only family you have left together.
“Enough. Go.” I hurry out of here before he fires me.
I know it won’t be long before he cans me.
Damn it. I rush to the station that the officer gave me, taking the train and then the bus.
By the time I arrive, it’s over an hour later, although it feels like six.
God, what has he done? It doesn’t make sense because he’s a good boy. Foolish, but good.
I enter the intimidating station, which appears to have recently undergone a makeover. Police officers move around, back and forth, in their uniforms and guns. I didn’t do anything wrong, and yet I feel guilty. There is a woman at the front desk who, although female, seems scarier than the men.
“Miss, can I help you?” she asks in a brisk tone. She clearly doesn’t have time for me and isn’t in the mood to deal with a wishy-washy person, but the last time I was at one of these places, it was to deal with my parents’ effects after their deaths.
I nervously smile at her and move to the edge of the counter and say, “Hello, I’m here to get my brother, Noah Scott. He’s a minor.”
“Oh, sure. Let me get the arresting officer.” Before she does, a handsome blond officer approaches me.
He smiles, but I don’t trust it. I remember there being a lot of great cops when my parents died, but something is disconcerting about this person that makes his smile overtly sinister.
He sticks out his hand and I shake it, even though I want nothing to do with him.
“Hello, you must be Angel Scott. I’m Officer Anthony Fields.” It’s not that I have a thing against cops, but this man could send my brother to jail and get him taken away from me, so maybe that’s why I was getting the uncomfortable vibe.
“Please, come this way.” He leads me to a small interrogation room.
“Where is he?” I ask, wanting to see him and make sure he’s okay. He has to be frightened. This isn’t like him, and he must be panicking. I know I am.
“Currently in a youth lock-up.”
“What happened?” I stop and turn to face him, nearly slamming into his chest. He reaches out and grips my forearms. “Sorry.”
He points to the plastic chair in front of the table. “Please take a seat.”