Someone To Believe In Read Free

again, he said to his assistant, “Joanie,
get me Bailey O’Neil in New York, would you? I think we have her
work phone on file.” Gripping the receiver before the call was
punched through, he said aloud, “Okay, sweetheart, time for another
round.”
     
     
    SO, WHO ARE you? The words scrolled across the screen of Bailey’s computer,
like so many others, typed casually.
    You know who I am or you
wouldn’t have come to my site, TazDevil2 . Bailey was
unfamiliar with the screen name.
    No response.
    So she typed, I’m the Street Angel. And I can help you.
    Yeah, sure.
    Why don’t you tell me why
you came to my site. It’s just us two . She grinned in
the empty office. And I won’t tell anybody
else . No matter what the good senator from New York
does to me.
    Chill out a minute.
    Bailey waited. Kids needed time to take this
big step. As she drummed her fingers on the table, she scanned her
messy office. ESCAPE, her organization, which helped kids find a
way out of gang life, needed more space. They’d grown so much they
had to rent three offices on this floor, and still she shared hers
with a coworker. But she’d rather direct the funds to programs
instead of spending it on overhead. When they moved, as they did
every few years to maintain their anonymity—much like shelters for
battered women—their space probably wouldn’t be much larger.
    Her private phone shrilled into the
silence, making her startle. She wondered if she should answer it
while the newest visitor to her interactive website garnered his or
her courage. Or got interrupted. Bailey winced. Once, she’d been on
the phone hotline with a boy and he cut off abruptly. Bailey later
suspected he’d been caught and killed. A body had turned up with
earmarks of the teen she’d been talking to. Don’t think about the loss . To avoid it, she
picked up the phone. “Bailey O’Neil.”
    “Ms. O’Neil, this is Clayton Wainwright.”
    Oh, shit. “Senator, this is a surprise.”
    “Is it?”
    Ah, he had seen the letter in
the Sun . “Hmm.”
    “I was wondering if you’d make some time for
me on Thursday of next week. I’ll be in New York.” His voice was
deeper, huskier than she remembered.
    “Um, I’m pretty busy.”
    “You have to eat. How about breakfast?”
    Okay, enough dancing. Not only did they have
a history together, but she despised his politics and the damage
he’d done to social agencies like hers. No way was she going to see
him in person. “Look, Senator, we don’t have much to say to each
other. You disagree with how I choose to help kids, and I think
you’re conservative and backward and that you’ve copped out on the
potential you showed early in your career. We’re never going to see
eye to eye.”
    “Humor me.”
    “I don’t think so.”
    “I’m afraid I have to insist.”
    “Are you for real?”
    “What does that mean?”
    “That you can insist all you want. It has no
effect on me.” Time to take the gloves off. “I’m furious with you
for your two latest tricks.”
    “Tricks?”
    “Blocking my funding for Guardian at the
federal level. At least so far. And then for writing memos to the
state officials about ESCAPE.”
    “They weren’t—”
    The instant message chimed, indicating
someone had posted. “Look, I’ve got to go. Thanks for the
invitation, but no.” She hung up before he could respond, and read
the message.
    TazDevi12 was back on. Maybe I’m thinkin’ this is jackshit.
    You don’t have to be tough with me. Tell me
about your situation.
    A pause. I got
me a set. The Good Girls .
    Bailey froze. The Good Girls had been
the worst girl gang in New York City in the eighties. Swallowing
her reaction, she typed, That gang doesn’t
exist anymore .
    Yeah, dude, they do. We been calling
ourselves that for a few months. Used to be the Shags. Decided to
reincarnate that other gang ’cuz they was so tough.
    Uncomfortable, Bailey toyed with the
picture of Rory on her desk. I
know.
    How?
    I was close to