Invited

Twenty-Eight - Chevelle

Wicken's apartment was in the town next to mine. I don't want to say it was in the ghetto, but it wasn't exactly in the nicest area either. It was obvious that the complex itself was for low income families. Taking a deep breath, I found his family name on the directory and buzzed the number.

"Hello?" a female voice crackled through the speaker by the door.

I cleared my throat. "Yeah, Ms. Sanders? My name is Chevelle, I'm a friend of Wicken's. Do you have a few minutes to talk?"

There was a brief pause. I know it was only a few seconds, but it felt a lot like a few minutes and I almost thought she'd hung up on me until the buzzer sounded and the security door unlocked. My mom grabbed it before the time ran out, and held it open for me.

"Number 310," his mom said, and then the speaker went dead.

Charming woman. I was curious to see if she was sober or if she'd changed at all since her son was taken away. That was about the only thing I knew about her. She drank – a lot. So much so that she didn't go to work or pay bills. All of that had been his responsibility. He talked openly about it at work. Perhaps that should have been my first clue he was interested in me: he told me things and trusted me. My other co-workers only complained about how he didn't seem to want to talk much. Not really talk. Surprising, because I could never get him to shut up. Go figure.

We made our way up the stairs and down the hall. His apartment was in the middle of the hallway, not far off. I took a few breathes to gain some courage, and then knocked.

"It's open," his mother called out.

I turned the handle, and was surprised to see Paul sitting on the living room couch with her. She held a mug in her hands, and he was sitting with a hand on her back.

"Paul..." I said. "I didn't realize you'd be here. I thought you'd be in LA with Timber."

"I was, but I made a journey here. Casey, my wife, is with him to assist with any needs that might arise. This seemed more important to me," he explained. Surprising, to say the least, that he would find Wicken's family more important than a global press conference.

Walking slowly, as if I were approaching some kind of dangerous animal, I crossed the apartment and sat down in a rocking chair across from the couch. Mom decided to sit down in a dining room chair nearby.

I pointed to Paul. "Mom, this is Paul. Remember my telling you about him? Paul, my mom, and this is Wicken's mom." Which was strange for me to say and introduce her since we'd never met.

"Cleo," Wicken's mom said. "My name is Cleo. It's nice to meet you, Chevelle. I've heard a few things about you."

"You have?" I blinked, surprised.

She nodded. "Wicken mentioned you a few times in passing. Paul has been filling me in on what's been going on."

"Everything?" I squeaked out.

"Yes, everything."

Made my job a lot easier, that's for sure, but I felt like I'd just wasted my time making the drive over in the first place. "Oh, cool, I guess."

"I'm glad he's happy," she said quietly. "I know he wasn't happy here with me. I'm surprised it took him so long for him to leave."

I wanted to point out that he hadn't left on his own free will. If he'd had it his way, he would have escaped and come home safely. That was part of the reason he'd been thrown into the Pit right away. Rather than come along willingly, he decided to rebel against the Achlivans and it bit him in the butt in the end.

Instead, I smiled at her. "He was happy with me, yeah. It'll be good when he comes back again."

Cleo sniffled. "Paul says...says I can come with. Do you...do you think he'd be okay with me coming along?"