“Roland,” he said into his phone, walking toward the 161st Street subway station, “I don’t know where you are, but meet me at my house in an hour. We’ve got to talk.”

He hung up, peering around him as he made his way onto the concourse, merging with the streams of city dwellers making their way in and out of the Bronx. No one paid him any attention; he was simply another guy in the crowd. The body odor and cigarette smoke, the crying of babies and the shrieking of brakes on the rails, the gooey remnants of gum on the handrails, teenagers and office workers and waitresses pushing past him …

Horror flooded through him as he boarded the train, carried by the crush of people. He grunted with the pain of it. This was who he was now. He was a nobody on the street, and he had no woman, no family, waiting for him at home. Right back where he’d started out. Except, as a kid, he’d ride the subways to practices and games with the goal of a better life on the horizon. What was he working toward now? Manager at McDonald’s?

As the train sped up away from the stadium, he felt hopeless. He had to get his money back from Regina somehow. Otherwise, he was broke and without a career. Behind his reflection, warehouses and apartment buildings rushed by. They were leaving the past, hurtling into a blurred future.

Gabriela glanced up over the head of a haircutting client and frowned at Angel, disheveled, coming in the salon door. “What have we got goin’ on here?”

Angel let out a sob and stumbled toward the Dominican hairdresser.

Gabriela threw down her scissors, narrowly missing the startled woman in the chair, and rushed to gather up Angel. “Oh my God! Oh my God! What is it?”

The young woman could only cry, shuddering great heaving breaths, as Gabriela rocked her.

“Just tell me, Jose is okay?”

Angel nodded against her shoulder. She leaned in, putting her weight on her friend, and cried harder. “Ye-e-s-s, he’s fine,” she finally hitched out, “but I failed my pra-a-ctic-c-um.” More sobs. Gabriela simply took it in without saying a word, holding her close. Everything Angel had held on to for the past week—maybe the last few years—could not be contained any longer. Now that she’d finally given in and sought support from her friend, she found she couldn’t help but let the dam continue to crumble. There was no stopping the flood of emotions and tears, but Gabriela stayed with her, steadying her, cooing, stroking her hair. The unconditional love from her friend just made Angel cry even more.

“Why we meeting here, bro?” Roland asked. “Thought you wanted to get some lunch.”