Chapter One- Wrong Place, Right Time

Virginia's POV

“If I don't come up with a new place of employment by tomorrow, I'll be forced to go back home.” I confessed with my dominant hand raking through my chestnut waves. The very idea of crossing back over those four state borders back to Indiana was anything but enticing. But it was a realization I was beginning to have to face or risk homelessness. 

“You can't go back, Ginny…” As if I needed the reminder. My wrists and throat still ached from the binds from the last night in that Godforsaken trailer. My feet still throbbed from the race I made to that police station after years of talking myself out of it. My soles barked even more when I understood nobody was going to help me as they all owed him somehow. Because of it, I was trapped and used whatever strength I had to get on a bus in the nick of time before he could find me. 

"I know, but unless a job literally falls into my lap, I'm going to get evicted."

"Maybe I can talk to Mal-"

I glared. As much as I loved Aimee, her boyfriend was a different story. This was because she constantly gave him chance after chance no matter how many times she caught him with his pants down-literally. The last time it happened he'd overheard me say she deserved better and he repeated the phrase to her in regards to her friendship with me. Since then we had become each other's biggest enemies. Well that and the upcoming rent payment for me. 

"No. I'll figure something out. Maybe I'll do a delivery service for a couple days or do another catering gig..." But I hated this idea as it meant it was only going to last for this month and I'd be in this same position in another three weeks.

Aimee sighed. I saw how badly she wanted to help me. But as a girl whose parents paid for her education, condominium, and the very stilettos crossed under the cafe table, she couldn't possibly understand. Still,it was almost refreshing to look at her and see the effortlessness. 

Almost. 

"I have an interview to get to..."

"What's this one for?" 

"An assistant." She only bobbed her head as she didn't understand the daily grind that came with needing a paycheck. But she was a sweetheart who spent all of her free time for any charity that pulled at her heart. Recently it was Saint Jude's Children's Hospital.

"I have a feeling about this one." 

"Yeah, nausea..." I muttered as she gave a playful glare as my watch beeped on my wrist. It was the third reminder of my intentional delay as I finished off my cappuccino and stood to leave. 

"Call me tonight?" She asked as she pulled her card from her wallet and I grimaced. 

"Next one is on me." It was a lie as I couldn't even eat three full meals a day if it wasn't for her and she still never seemed to mind. I guess I was her favorite charity case. 

"Of course." She humored me, wished me luck, and blew an air kiss as I slipped into my Uber she also paid for, and closed the distance to get to another hopeless job interview. 

Chrome aesthetics and cobalt details lined the building as I brushed off the crumbs of my lunch and pushed my way inside. There had to have been at least twelve other girls, all better qualified with confidence alone, that didn't spare me anything more than a sideways glance. I gave a kind smile before I was left ignored. 

"Miss Valentine?" I jumped immediately to my feet, a polished and handsome man raised a brow to how nervous I must have appeared with my hand jutting out and returning as I was unsure how to greet him. 

"You won't be needed." His words took me back. 

"I'm sorry? Has the position been filled?"

"No. But Mister Callahan is looking for something...else." He was trying to be polite, which was more than I could say from recent interviews. All because I wasn't an ivy League trust fund baby. 

"Can you tell me why?" But I already knew. I wasn't injected with plastic, wearing couture, or knew how to properly apply contour. I was lucky I could not stick out like a sore thumb most of the time as I was abandoned in the sense of feminine education by a mother who preferred a bottle over parenting. I taught myself how to maintain some semblance of hygiene from an early age. Makeup and fashion were luxuries I couldn't afford. And anything I did know was courtesy of Aimee.

“Maybe if I can speak to him then-” I was interrupted by the disapproving look on his face. It was born entirely out of pity and was almost as bad as his condescending tone. 

“Mister Callahan has a specific image to uphold, Miss Valentine. I'm sorry but if your inconsistent resume weren't reason enough, then your…style is. Have a good day.” He was pompous and judgmental and completely right. I definitely didn't fit the aesthetic of a prestigious lawyer's assistant, especially if the other applicants were anything to go off of. But after weeks of searching for anything more than minimum wage that would make me have to choose between food and rent, something inside of me snapped. 

“And what if I was the best assistant he could have had?” Maybe I didn't know how to work an Excel spreadsheet and fumbled over my words making any call on the phone, but I could work harder than anyone because I didn't want to lose what little I had left. 

“Miss Valentine…”

“And I would be available because my life would be this job. Not dating. No fancy appointments. This job.”

“Do you understand who Brooks Callahan is?” The name meant nothing to me, despite the fact it was intimidating etched into the building in varying locations. 

“He has single-handedly lowered the criminal population by his convictions. He needs someone at his side who is able to understand the job. And that includes how and when to shake someone's hand. Now I'm sorry as I'm sure you would excel in certain aspects of this job, but you aren't the right fit. Have a good day.”

I wanted to grab his arm and explain my desperate situation but the man in the velvet vest wasn't responsible for my circumstances. Maybe even I wasn't, but dwelling on them only meant progress would remain stagnant. So I decided to leave while I still had some dignity, returning to the habit I'd made as of late to the candy store on the corner. 

Picking through the assortment of a fair mix of chocolate and taffy, I began to scan the online ads for jobs nearby. I'd already applied to the majority of them and found how most that said “only a high school diploma needed” were just to get you to call and be told you were picked over. So this left rather unconventional and frankly inconvenient jobs. Just as I prepared to apply for one that sounded rather sketchy, something across the street caught my eye. 

A young boy in a red jacket caught himself on the tree across from me. He was a short distance from the park nearby, too young to be alone in my opinion. Especially as he seemed to show signs of distress. I was on my feet the second his hand raised to clutch his chest. 

“It's going to be okay…” I offered the unsure promise as he ignored me and held himself up by his palms as he dug his nails into the dirt. I assessed him quickly, having originally thought he was choking or having an anxiety attack. But as he scratched at his chest in the short breathing spells he got to have by the mercy of his weak labored inhales, I recognized this as having been asthma. 

“Do you have an inhaler?” I hoped, looking around his figure without touching him as I didn't want to frighten him. He only shook his head as I thought about an article I read in a recent medical magazine while waiting for one of those disaster interviews. 

“Drink this.” I offered my latte. Maybe it wasn't a good idea to offer a kid caffeine but if the research study was accurate, it could ease the symptoms of an asthma attack. He hesitated for a second as I tore off the lid and blew on its surface. From pure desperation, he began to sip, struggling to breathe through the swallows, making a bitter face, until handing it back. 

“Breathe with me…” I began a routine of deep breathing, puckered lips mimicked that of drinking from a straw, and watched as his symptoms began to deplete. 

“There ya go…” Before I could even help him to his feet, a polished but obviously irresponsible woman knelt down to him to observe him. 

“Why did you run off? Do you have any idea what your dad is going to do to me?” I was in disbelief. “And who are you?”

I ignored her rage as I thought maybe she was using me as an outlet for her own worry. But the look of scrutiny on her face made me tighten. 

“Do you have his inhaler?”

“You were having an attack? Why didn't you come get me?” She bypassed responsibility and continued to chastise him.

“I couldn't.” He spoke lowly, his voice still affected by his recent oxygen restriction. 

“You know better than to run off like that-” The way the boy began to cower into himself made me glare at this woman. My lips opened before I could stop them. 

“Since when is it a kid's job to take care of himself? Clearly you were hired to make sure things like this didn't happen. So instead of making him feel bad, maybe give him a little compassion and see if he's okay.”

“Who do you think you are-” 

At the same moment that she began to close the distance between us, an ambulance pulled at the curb. 

“Is this the young boy in distress?”

“Yes.”

“I'm fine.” He muttered. 

“If you were fine I wouldn't be getting chewed out by this…ugh! His father is going to kill me if I bring him home without getting checked out. He had an asthma attack and this…woman gave him something. For all I know it was laced and-” The paramedics looked at me in a silent apology that made it difficult not to smirk. 

“What did you give him?”

I explained and the woman glared even harder. 

“And you! Why would you just drink something a stranger gave you?!” The young boy was near tears by now.

“It worked didn't it?” The paramedic interjected, giving him a smirk before lowering to the boy. 

“I'm going to take you with us just to check your lungs, okay? I'll even let you play with the sirens if you sound good okay?” He illuminated at the idea as I gave a look of approval and gratitude to the handsome paramedic. For a second I wondered how a smile like his could be directed at me across a nice dinner but then my body chilled against itself at the malicious reaction my body had to its own fears. 

“I can't believe this…I have to go with you in this filthy-”

“No.” He spoke before looking up slowly towards me. 

“I want her to come with me…”

“You would rather have a stranger? Landon, I'm the one here for you-”

“Every second arguing over this is keeping us from helping someone else.” He directed his ridicule towards the woman looking at me with daggers and arms across her tight chest. 

“If he is comfortable with her coming with us then she will, if she wants. You can always meet us at the hospital-” He guided Landon into the back as they both looked at me in wait. 

“Unbelievable!” The woman threw her hands up and didn't even wait long enough for Landon to be okay before she had a phone pressed to her ear and was marching away. 

“It's pretty amazing what you did back there.” The paramedic offered as he took Landon’s vitals. Marking them down on a small notepad, my eyes didn't leave the young boy as he reached over to hold my hand. 

“I don't like needles.” He offered as a reason for the contact as I didn't let him think ill of it for a second. I placed my other hand over his until we came to the hospital. 

Once inside, I didn't leave for a second as he was further assessed. Doctors and nurses of various calibers came through asking him a series of questions that he answered without fault. But then my eyes caught on his chart hanging on the end of his bed as he had fallen asleep beneath the stiff sheets. 

Landon Callahan. 

Age 10. 

Allergies to-

My eyes traced back over his name. 

Callahan. 

Of all father's in all of D.C. and I had to find the son of the guy who turned me away and guaranteed my eviction. As I attempted to slip out before the man in question came to get his kin, I heard a booming voice outside of the curtain. 

“Where is my son?”