Braden sat on the roof of his latest dwelling – he couldn’t bring himself to
call it a home even after nearly a year – smoking a cigar. The smoke curled
upward into the quiet night, its intricately spiraling patterns reflecting
his present attitude of indecisiveness and conflicting emotions as he
pondered how far he had run to escape his former self.
It was three years ago to the very day that Braden’s life had changed forever. Absently, lost in the thoughts of more thrilling days when every action was wrought with the intrigue and danger that follows those who ignore the paths of the law and forge their own methods of declaring political statements on their society, he lightly traced the still-angry scar on the underside of his left wrist. The perfectly symmetrical half-moon, courtesy of the only girl he’d ever truly loved, was the only physical evidence of his old life and the only true friends the vaguely troubled young man had ever known.
The old crew had long since disbanded, spread throughout the East Coast like dandelion fuzz drifting on a summer breeze. They had lived their own lives for 1,095 days, separated forever by circumstances too convoluted to control. Maxwell Addison, Max, Sonny. He was in Florida, wreaking havoc on the unsuspecting souls of Tallahassee. Jeanette Barrow, Jeanie. She’d joined another, much more extensive criminal organization down in New Orleans called the Jericho Five. Then there was Angelina Cortez, Braden’s Angel. She’d come to New York City and he’d spent six months trying to locate her. Lastly, there was Braden himself: Braden Gentry Palmer, Brady, Denny. He’d gone north to Canada, but it didn’t quite compare with the thrill of Albany. Nowhere he tried could compare with Albany, not without his Angel. He’d come looking for her, without any luck.
Then, one miraculous day this past winter, she’d rounded the corner and bumped into him, quite literally. She’d appeared to be spooked, something that his Angel never appeared to be, almost as though she’d laid eyes on some spectral apparition instead of his living, breathing person. Braden wasn’t frightened at the reunion, he was angry. His Angel, the girl he’d worshipped for five years, was hand in hand with another boy. He had been too stunned to speak, and she ran away before he could collect his wits. He had been searching for her ever since. His present occupation, that of selling newspapers, gave him easy access to the latest information gathered on her life of crime.
It was something he’d known all along: he was the only one of the original partnership to completely give up the old life. How could he continue when the single reason he’d began in the first place was because of them? But Sonny, Jeanie, Angel…arson was in their blood. They could never give it up. He could only hope that they were happy, even as he was not.
In one fluid motion, he tossed his smoldering cigar to the filthy city streets far below and turned on his heel. It was time to move on, time to forge a new partnership, and finally, time to discover a new Angel.
Stay tuned! More to come!
