Someone To Believe In by Kathryn Shay

drew in a breath. Thoughts of her
behind bars made his blood run cold. I hate
to think of you in prison. And his own role in putting
her there.
    Then don’t. Maybe I’ll challenge you to a
game of racquetball. The winner could compromise on his or her
philosophies.
    He chuckled. You wouldn’t have a chance against me.
    Pride goeth before the fall, Senator.
    I’m bigger than you are.
    I’m smaller and faster. And I pack quite a
punch.
    No doubt about that. Bailey, look I...
    Suddenly a message came on
screen. IrishCream has logged off at 12:30
A.M.
    What the hell? She cut him off? Or, oh God,
had something happened to her? She was at ESCAPE. He pictured the
area where the building was. The small quarters. Were those locks
effective enough? Damn it, anything could have gone down. He
reached for the phone, angry all over again at her carelessness
about her safety.
     
     
    TAZ IS THAT you?
    A long pause from the interactive network.
The message had come on suddenly when she was talking with Clay.
She’d clicked off her personal IM fast to answer the website
visitor.
    Taz, talk to me. I haven’t heard from you in
a while. I’ve been wondering how you are.
    She waited, and as she did, the phone rang.
She snatched it up.
    “Bailey?” Clay’s tone was concerned. Overly
concerned.
    “I’m okay. I got a hit on the website. I
can’t talk.”
    “Thank God. I thought something might have
happened to you.” His relieved tone, the intimacy of his voice
across the lines, warmed her.
    Because it did, she said, “I gotta go.”
    “All right. Stay safe,” he told her.
    “I will.”
    Just as she hung up, another message came
across the website.
    I’m here, Angel.
    What have you been up to?
    Just been in the mix.
Nothin’ serious. A pause . My
old man and me been squabbin’.
    What are you fighting about?
    He wanted me to knock boots with some jerkoff
he owes money.
    Oh, Taz. You don’t have to live like
this.
    Thinkin’ about livin’ with my set. We got a
crib...
    Uh-oh, if Taz told her where the GGs crashed,
was she legally bound to report it? Damn it, now Wainwright had her
thinking like him!
    Before you do that, meet with me. We have a
thing called Face-to-Face. I’ll come with two others. We can just
talk.
    Wasn’t born yesterday, lady.
    It’s safe, and no one will try to make you do
anything you don’t want.
    Snort, snort.
    I mean it. Try to believe me. I’m
trustworthy.
    Word on the street has it you went to jail
for not blowin’ somebody in.
    I did.
    Maybe I’ll meet with you. Alone, though,
outta the way.
    Should she do it?
    She remembered Clay’s words. How can you risk your life when you have a son
depending on you?
    Of course she shouldn’t. But when had
she let that stop her? Okay, girl. Here’s
the plan ...
    By the time she was done, she had a date to
meet Taz. The shrill of the phone into the quiet office startled
her. Bailey didn’t answer it. It was probably the senator, and she
didn’t want to talk to him now. He’d read it in her voice that
she’d just made an appointment to meet with a gang kid alone.
     
     
    “AND NOW, GIVE a big hand to Senator Clayton
Wainwright, who made this whole project possible.”
    Clayton smiled at the woman who introduced
him; she was the manager of Tales for Tots, a new bookstore in
town. When he took the microphone, he said, “I think that’s an
exaggeration, Donna. I helped get some funds for this terrific
place but your committee did all the work.”
    The manager wouldn’t be swayed. “You pushed
our grant through, you persuaded a top architect in New York to do
the plans without charge, and you’ve been a consistent moral
supporter during the year it’s taken to get this bookstore
established.”
    More clapping. Clay demurred. He’d
wholeheartedly worked on this project to benefit an underprivileged
area of the city and had made a point to attend the ribbon-cutting
ceremony of this very worthwhile venture. He wondered if Bailey
knew about it. If