Chapter One
Trinity
There’s an itch on my back, right between my shoulder blades.
It’s driving. Me. Crazy.
No matter which way I bend my arm, I can’t quite reach it, and I don’t understand why my body would itch in a spot where it knows I’ll never be able to scratch it. What’s the point of that?
Gah! There are so many little things about being human that nobody ever thinks to tell you when they’re preparing you for, well, being human.
I don’t understand how regular humans can do it. I mean, they’re just born into this world without an instruction manual or any kind of preparation at all. Crazy, right? I think it’s very resilient of them. I got an instruction manual, and I’m still terrified half the time.
You’ll get used to it.
That’s what they always tell me in my fallen angel support group. I go to meetings every month. Not because I want to, exactly, but because I’m pretty sure Upstairs keeps an eye on us that way, and I bet I’d somehow be in even more trouble if I didn’t attend. The other fallen are nice though—the ones who attend. I’m sure there are a lot who just hide away on Earth and try to forget the rest of us even exist.
A lot of them are bitter.
Me? I’m not bitter, I’m just… I just don’t understand.
“Are you still listening to me, you fucking bitch?”
“Oh, uh… yes, sir.” I shake my head as the customer on the hotline shouts at me again. You might think that’s the worst thing he’s called me in his long-winded tirade over the past few minutes, but you’d be wrong.
Very wrong.
Apparently, rage really fosters creativity in some people.
“I’m very sorry to hear that you’re unhappy with your cable service, but unfortunately, there’s nothing we can do,” I say, repeating the words my manager made us all memorize by rote. “You signed a two-year contract with Wondercom, and we don’t allow early termination.”
“That’s a load of fucking horse shit! If I’d known I was signing away my goddamn soul, I would’ve—”
The guy on the phone launches into another diatribe, and I sigh, making sure to keep it soft enough that he can’t hear me. I could tell him a thing or two about signing away one’s soul, but I’m not allowed to talk to humans at all about Downstairs, Upstairs, or anything supernatural.
I’m supposed to be living as one of them, after all. That’s my punishment.
As the angry voice fills my ear, I scoot down in my seat, trying to use the back of my chair to scratch that annoying spot between my shoulder blades. But I still can’t reach it.
Argh! Nobody warned me that humans got itchy! Or that my lips would get chapped in the cold. Or that—
Focus, Trinity, focus.
My manager, Dave Harding, is making the rounds on this floor, peering into cubicles with a skeptical look on his face, and I know he’s not gonna be happy if he comes over here and sees that I’ve been on the phone with the same customer for almost twenty minutes. When people try to call and cancel, we’re supposed to get them off the line as quickly as possible.
“I’m very sorry, sir,” I say quickly as Dave glances my way. “But as I said, there’s nothing I can do. You’ve still got eighteen months on your contract and—”
“I need the money.”
The voice in my ear shifts abruptly, going from angry to quiet in the space of a breath. There’s something about the man’s tone that makes me sit up a little straighter, my brows furrowing.
“What do you mean, sir?”
“The money. The money I’m sending you every month. I need it. My daughter is sick, and I’m… fuck, I’m out of work on disability, and we can’t make ends meet anymore. I’m canceling every damn thing I can, just trying to save a little. There’s nothing wrong with your service, it’s just—I need the money for something more important.”
Ah, boogers.
He could be lying. He could’ve just switched tactics and is trying a new strategy to get what he wants.
But the heaviness and exhaustion in his voice tell me he’s not. And even if he is, even if he’s that good of an actor, I’d rather be wrong about this than screw over some poor guy who’s just trying to help his kid.
I hunch over my desk, discreetly peeking up from under my lashes to make sure Dave isn’t anywhere nearby. Thankfully, he’s busy flirting with one of the new hires over in the far corner of the large, open office.
“Okay, sir,” I say quietly, “I’m going to help you. Just don’t tell anyone I did, all right? There is a way out of your contract.”
Keeping my voice low, I lay out the steps he can take to void his contract with the company. It’s a loophole in their contract that they’re legally not allowed to close, so instead, they just bury it—making it pretty much impossible for the average person to find it.
The man doesn’t speak at all as I talk him through the steps, and when I finish, there’s a moment of silence before he says, “Thank you. I’m… I’m sorry about all those things I called you. I didn’t mean it.”
“It’s okay. I’m sorry about your daughter. Is she going to be all right?”
“I hope so.”
There’s a raw quality to his voice that makes my heart ache for him. I wish I could do more to help him than just freeing up a little extra cash flow for him and his family. But at least I did something.
“What’s your name again?” the guy asks. I told him when I first picked up the call, but that was twenty minutes-worth of yelling ago, so I’m not surprised he’s forgotten it.
“Trinity.” I glance up again to check for Dave, but I don’t see him flirting with the new girl anymore. Whew. Maybe he wandered back into his office to play video games. “But most people call me Trin.”
“Well, Trin. Thank you.” I can hear the warmth in the man’s voice, and I wonder how long it’s been since someone was nice to him. Since someone just cut him a little much-needed slack. “I wish I could leave you a great performance review, but… I’m guessing that wouldn’t really help.”
I laugh quietly. “No, not really. That’s okay though. Just don’t tell anyone what I did. And take care of your kiddo.”
“I will. Thank you.”
The line goes quiet, and I pull off my headset, resting it on the little desk in my cubicle. Despite the fact that I just spent close to half an hour getting yelled at, I feel great. I feel amazing. Helping people is the best feeling in the world, and even though I can’t do it nearly as well from Earth as I did from Upstairs, I still get a little charge every time I do.
And what do you know? My itch is gone!
Fluffing out my kinky dark hair, I lean back in my chair to make sure no one in the cubicles nearby heard me. I don’t want one of them to tattle on me.
“Have a nice little chat, Trinity?”
“Ahh!”
I almost fall backward off the rickety office chair as I look up to see Dave standing right behind me.
Oh, crap!
That’s where he went—not back to his office at all. Which probably means he just heard my entire conversation.