“Funny, I think they said that same thing to Jackie Robinson. Anyhow, my main focus right now is helping my boyfriend. I’m sure we’ll be talking again very soon,” I replied, hanging up before I was forced to go through any more of that torture. I’m sure he meant to intimidate with that phone call, but it only pushed me further.
Ring.
Ring.
It was Esther—her twelfth call already, and it wasn’t even 3:00 p.m. yet.
Silencing the phone, I threw it into my purse and watched the scenery pass by me, the New York City yellow taxis lined up near hotels and bars, already waiting desperately for fare. Meanwhile, others either biked or ran by. Most people on the Upper East Side, such as myself, used private cars or the occasional Uber.
“How long are you staying, ma’am?” my driver questioned.
“One day. I’ll be down shortly,” I responded as he pulled to a stop up in front of a tan-colored brick townhouse on the corner of Mayor and 3rd Street.
As I stepped out, a gust of wind scattered my hair. I slipped my hands into the pockets of my fitted gray coat. After pushing open the gate and climbing the stairs, I pressed the doorbell.
“Coming!” I heard a man’s voice yell alongside a dog’s barking. A few seconds later, the door peeled open, and I smiled when he stared at me, perplexed.
“Amelia?”
“Hey there. Mind if I come in?”
He stepped to the side, and the very first thing I saw on his floor was a tall white robotic dog with blue eyes that tilted its head down upon seeing me.
“He recognizes you as friend and wants you to pet him,” Sheldon said from behind me.
“What happened to Rosy?” I asked, placing the palm of my hand on the top of the dog’s head.
“She died three years ago,” he stated, leading me to his living room. It was covered in robotics, wires, and tools. He quickly tried to clean off a seat for me. “Sorry for the mess.”
“No, it’s fine. Your trailer was like this, too, when we were young.” I didn’t sit, instead moving to the fireplace. On either side of it, his walls were littered with degrees.
Master of Science in Robotics Technology
Doctor of Philosophy (Ph.D.) in Robotics
Doctor of Computer Engineering Technology
Master of Technology Software Development
All from, of course, M.I.T, and he was only thirty. Sheldon Worcester was the smartest man I knew.
“What brings you to my neck of the woods?”
“I need your help,” I said turning to face him. His brown eyes were glued to me. It was hard to describe Sheldon because he was always changing. When we were younger, he was truthfully annoying as fuck, always having to prove he knew it all. But as the years went by, he mellowed out slightly. He had wavy, honey brown shoulder-length hair and a short beard over his pronounced jaw that, added to his height, made him looked like he belonged on the cover of GQ.
“You need my help?” he repeated, sitting on the arm of his chair.
Sighing, I nodded. “Noah was arrested.”
“You’ve got to be kidding me,” he scoffed bitterly. “The first time we see each other in what, five years? And you’re here for none other than Noah fucking Sloan.”
Apparently he still wasn’t over the fact that I could never love him the way he wanted me to. Instead, I had told him that I saw him as a brother. After that, we tried to keep in touch, but he told me he couldn’t, not when I saw him that way. He said he would wait for me. That when I got over Noah, to come and find him. I hated doing this to him now, but I had no other choice.
“Don’t think of it as a favor for Noah,” I said.
“But it is. What did I hear this morning? He got arrested after going crazy and beating some big wig—”
“He didn’t go crazy.” At least not in the sense that he was talking about. “That big wig, Ray Mallory, tried to rape me. Noah stopped him before he got that far.”
“He did what?” he said, standing up slowly.
“I’m not sure which ‘he’ you are referring to,” I said.
“You were almost assaulted last night in Chicago, and now you’re here for Noah? Did you even go to the hospital, Amelia?” He reached for me, but I took a step back.
“I’m fine,” I assured him. “Noah is the one in jail.”
His hand balled into a fist, dropping before it reached me. “If it was self-defense, he’ll get out—”
“If?” I snapped, my eyes narrowing at him. “In all the years you have known me, Sheldon, with all the creeps, stalkers, and perverts I’ve met, have I ever cried wolf when there wasn’t a wolf?”
“Shit, no. I didn’t mean that way,” he backpedaled.
I could feel the headache coming backing. Reaching up, I pressed on my temple.
“Why don’t you sit down—”
“Sheldon,” I cut him off, standing tall again. “I came here because you are the only person I know who can help me with this, as quickly as possible. Apparently Chicago is as corrupt as the movies make it seem. Noah isn’t being treated fairly, because the man he went up against is a Mallory. I always thought Ray was just a former rock star, but what I didn’t know is that he comes from old money. Most of his family are either judges, politicians, or CEOs that make up the Chicago elite. There is a wall around this son of a bitch. He assaulted me, and then had the balls to call me this morning, explaining how I’m out of my league for trying to go up against him. He may be right. But I’m not going to stop trying. I know there is bad blood between you and Noah. I’m sorry I couldn’t love you the way that you loved me, but hope I’m still someone important enough for you to help.”
Reaching up, I wiped away my tears quickly.
“What do you need?” he whispered.
“Thank you,” I said, taking a deep breath.
He nodded, getting up and grabbing his laptop from the coffee table. “I’m guessing you need me to hack into something, but that’s pretty much all I can do.”
“Yes. Everyone has dirt, Ray included. If you can dig it up, I could use it as leverage.”
“Someone like him most likely has a person covering up for him.”
I had thought so, too. But as I said, “Whoever he has is no match for you.”
Noah
Revenge.
It was the plot device for the best works in all of literature. In Shakespeare’s work, he displays the wickedness of revenge, how it blinds the bearer and causes greater misfortune for those seeking it, in the end. Just like in The Merchant of Venice, Hamlet, Richard II, King Lear…the list goes on.
I often wondered what would become of us all if we never sought vengeance? Wouldn’t we all just become victims, cursing our own lives till we died? I couldn’t live that life. There was rage growing within me for every injustice.
Just like this one.
“Lunchtime, Mr. Sloan,” the guard said as he slipped me a tray of what had to be dog food with a cup of Jell-O and a water bottle on the side. He pushed it through the slot so hard that it crashed to the floor in a disgusting mess. “Sorry about that. We ain’t the Four Seasons, so you’ll have to wait until we can whip up something else.”
“Thanks,” I said, picking up the water bottle as it rolled to me. “I appreciate it.”
The guard snickered, his chest puffed up as he walked away, muttering something to the effect of how he almost pitied a poor fuck like me.
I wanted to tell him to keep his pity. Sitting up, I drank slowly, the only words coming to my mind being, “Oft have I heard that grief softens the mind, and makes it fearful and degenerate; Think therefore on revenge and cease to weep.”
The people Amelia and I were turning into…it was their fault, and there was no undoing it.
Chapter Six
Amelia
The flight from New York back to Chicago took just under two hours. I tried to sleep, but I couldn’t bring myself to close my eyes. Every time I did, I saw Ray, that look in his eye as he attacked me, and a chill went up my spine. I knew without a doubt that if it weren’t for Noah, he wouldn’t have stopped.