PART 1: I AM THE BEST

"Angel!" I hear the name of my boss, and I immediately turn, a smile gracing my face, although reluctantly.

"Boss," I greet, also reluctantly. Sometimes I wonder why he's the boss, and I'm not. I have a way higher success rate than my boss, so shouldn't I be head? Jay tells me I'm too unpredictable and crazy, but I disagree. The only thing my boss is better than me at is his name- it's miles ahead of mine. But even then, names are given to us by our parents. So I suppose in an indirect way, his parents are better than mine, not him personally.

He laughs that stupid nasally laugh which cracks at the end, like always. "Oh, Angel, call me Maybe. Oh, haha! What a funny joke! No, of course, call me by my name, Kent."

"Ha. That was funny. Well, Kent, what do you want me to do?" I say, emphasising on the word "Kent" and clipping off every word. If that doesn't show I'm annoyed, I don't know what does.

He chuckles. "Always an Angel."

"Enough with the jokes!" I snap.

"Of course, Angel. Well, I'd love you to extract some money from the darling woman out there."

In one fluid motion, I've stood up and am asking "Description?"

He rattles them off like an idiot memorising a textbook for a five-second presentation. "Has hair. Uh, long hair. Uh, uh, uh- she has eyebrows. Um...give me a second- oh! She has eyes, too. Um- small eyes. Um-"

I'm ready to grab him by the collar and pummel him, but Jay steps in, giving me a harsh look. Offended, I recoil and sulk in silence. "I think Boss means the woman with long red hair and two eyebrow piercings. Also has purple contacts in."

"Ah! Yes! Yes!" Boss exclaims eagerly, lapping up Jay's words.

Fine. I'll try to forget Boss for now, and focus on my damn task. From behind Boss, Jay rolls his eyes subtly and grabs his wine glass, downing an entire glass of cherry-red liquid in a snap of a finger.

"Don't drink so much," I chide, then I'm out of the door and free.

My group gathers in a bar, in one of those private rooms at the back, every Saturday. The bartender knows us by now, and pretends not to see what we do. We always give him a bit of our profits, though, to keep him happy and shut him up at the same time. My idea, as usual. Boss nodded and said enthusiastically "Great idea!" which was about the most he contributed in weeks.

Once I slide out of the door, music starts pumping in my ears, and I wince because it's too loud. Lights are flashing everywhere and people are dancing. It's horrible, because I loathe socialising. And this is especially bad. Lots of people go to bars to relieve stress, or just cool down. This also means that when I scan the sadness percentage hanging on their heads, it's all really high.

Let me explain- I can see sorrow like clouds hanging over people's heads. I've always been able to, I think. Over the years, I've assigned percentages to the "sorrow cloud". The greyer it is, the more sad someone is. I've yet to see someone with a black mist hanging around their head, and I don't wish to.

Taking a deep breath, I stride over to the target, who is now leaning against the wall, her eyes shut. As I near her, I can see her sorrow cloud- it is a fluctuating one. Interesting. That means her emotions are battling together, fighting for dominance. Should she be happy or sad? Angry or sad? Jealous or sad? That's what she's thinking, and I know it.

"Do you want a drink?" I ask her.

Her eyes flutter open and I suck in a breath. She's gorgeous, and honestly right now I feel so mean, so absolutely mean, to be extracting money from her. Obviously, though, my brain takes over, as it always does, and all thoughts of sympathy or guilt fly out of my head. Now I'm calculating how much money I can take from her.

"No, thank you," she replies distantly. I see her sorrow soar up. Her cloud of grey mist expands a little upwards.

"I'm Maya. How about you?" I ask her.

Her eyebrows shoot up in surprise. I notice that Jay was right, they're pierced, with bright red studs poking through the hair in the eyebrows. "I'm Maya too. What a coincidence!"

I laugh naturally. In fact, I knew her name from the sorrow cloud above her head- it details the person's name. I discovered that when I was six, and it's served me well ever since. "Wow. So, how's life for you, Maya? I'll answer it first. I'm honestly so tired of working and coming home and collapsing on the couch. That's why I came to this bar."

"Well, Maya," -she says, and I laugh on cue- "I'm feeling l-l-" I nod encouragingly. Even though I'm actually bored to tears, and I'd rather watch Dora the Explorer than listen to her. "Lonely." Her eyes fill with tears suddenly.

I stifle a laugh. Outside, I appear sympathetic, and I see her sadness go up again. She's letting herself feel sad now. She will soon succumb. Sadness makes people impulsive. It makes people do things they normally would never do.

"Yes...loneliness does hit you hard," I say softly. "It follows you like an old friend, clinging to you. Even in a huge room like this, in a loud and busy room, loneliness never lets go, does it? I can feel it creeping up on me too..."

I wait for the words to sink in. She shuts her eyes and I see her chest rising and falling as she tries to compose herself. "I'm fine, actually," she says. But my eyes tell me otherwise- her sadness is getting more and more prominent above her head.

So I touch her shoulder gently like a friend would. "It's okay, Maya. I understand what loneliness feels like. You'll get over it, though."

And I spend the next two hours comforting her miserable self, watching her sadness percentage shoot up and down as it gets greyer and then less grey. This woman looked so beautiful but was really crumbling inside.

Disgusting.

A tight, hard knot forms in my heart. If I even have one, which I doubt so. Jay says I do, but then again, who is Jay to me?

I sneak a glance at the tiny clock hanging above the drinks counter. Then I decide to act, because this has dragged on for long enough. "So Maya- did I tell you about my..." my voice breaks.

She pauses awkwardly and stares at me. "It's okay if you don't want to say," she says quietly. Sympathetically.

I shake my head, fighting my fake tears. "No-I-I need to get this out. I- I just can't-" I dissolve into tears, right on schedule. Maya pats my back as I hiccup and mumble "I'm...lonely just like you...I'm a single parent, and my s-son, he's sick, and I d-don't know..."

She coos at me like a parent. "Oh, honey-"

I produce fresh tears instantly like a machine. "I just have no idea how I'm going to afford his medical fees. I...I just-"

"How much is it?" The gullible Maya asks.

I shake my head. "You don't want to know..."

"I could help you."

This time, I put on a frightened expression. Shake my head vigorously. "No, Maya. Don't." I add a hard edge to my "don't", just for effect.

"I must," she insists, and gives me a warm smile. I can see her sadness decreasing. She feels happy that she can help someone. If it helps to make her happier, and this makes me happy too, I have every reason to take her money. So naturally, I mutter an obscene amount of money under my breath, hiding my face with my hair. It's all about the actions, and the tone.

Maya gasps. "How will you pay that?"

I sniffle. "I-I don't know. But really, I'll figure it out," I assure her quickly. At the same time, I change my facial expression to one of extreme sadness and resignation.

"Just let me provide 20,000," she says.

I try not to show my happiness. And also disappointment. So little?

"No, please-" the more I refuse, the more she will insist. This is simple psychology.

"I insist. In fact- I just went to the bank today. I was going to pay my rental, but-"

"Please, just pay your rent," I tell her earnestly.

She reaches into her bag, and I almost want to jump up and laugh. Today's a good day.

"Where's my money?" She gasps.

I frown and lean over. Her bag is empty...how strange.

Maya stands up quickly from the chair she was sitting on, and says "Don't worry. Listen, I'll help you, I promise. I just want you to wait here. Do you think the bank is open?"

"Maya! Stop it. Don't. Let's just talk. It's really okay," I tell her.

She throws me a wink. "No way, honey."

And Maya races out, leaving me alone. Once she's gone, my face lapses back into its normal dreamy expression. Of course, I'm busy dreaming of the money.

Jay saunters out. He looks handsome as always, but I'd die before I told him that. He has platinum blond hair and an amazing body proportion, and startling green eyes. "So how's it going?" he asks.

I burst into tears again. "M-my child-"

Jay leans in to give me a hug, and as he does, I hiss "Did you pick her money? You shouldn't do that- we're already taking enough from her, and-"

He draws back and looks at me, amused, as I pretend to be sobbing. "You think I did that?"

I nod, bawling my eyes out.

He lifts a shoulder. "As usual, you're right."

And before I know it, his mood darkens. I see it, very clearly. Jay groans. "Stop psycho-analysing me."

I bite my lip. An apology flows out of my mouth. "Sorry."

Jay sighs. "Why are you only nice to me? Why can't you be civil to Kent?"

"Does he deserve my politeness? It's endangered, you know."

"Speaking of endangered, do you want to go eat-"

"Stop it, Jay. We shouldn't eat animals that are endangered-"

"I rather think we should hurry and eat them up before other people do."

I sigh now. Jay is incorrigible. 

Jay's eyes dart up briefly, then he's gone. I hang my head, the picture of a sad, lonely person, as I hear Maya approaching. "Don't tell anyone I gave you this," she says.

It feels thick and fat, and I can barely stop myself from squealing. Money. At last.

When she leaves and I duck into the toilet to open up the packet, I can't stop a gasp from escaping my mouth. "What?"

Readers: you may not like Angel at first. But hey, it's all about character development. So if you read on, I'm sure Angel will get better.
This chapter name is strange, but you will see why I did it one day. When the rest of the story is revealed.