Of Poverty and Privilege

Chapter two

Cyrus had given Chelsea a tour of the 27th precinct police station. There wasn't much to see, it was currently considered a "quiet time" for the area. The busy day crowds of the local area who end up getting arrested had now moved on (normally kids who brawl, or brazen drug dealers who deal in the broad daylight), and it was too early for patrolman to frogmarch in the normal night criminals, drunks and drug affected individuals who pass out on local park benches.

"Last but not least, here is the squad room. This is where the detectives work their magic, and I mean that. The stuff they're able to uncover with barely anything to go on is nothing short of magic." Cyrus stated as they both walked into the room.

The room matched the rest of the precinct in that it looked very tired. It had faded green paint, with a lot of marks and small holes in the plaster. It was clear the room's interior was very neglected, either due to a lack of precinct funding or perhaps maybe just because nobody cared. Detective work seemed like it was an occupation where the detectives were too busy to care about peeling paint and chipped furniture.

The room wasn't completely empty, but it was clear to Chelsea that a lot of the detectives were missing, as a lot of desks were unoccupied. But there were still a few detectives scattered around making phone calls, or hunched over their desk reading papers with their glasses on.

But the thing that made Chelsea freeze up was seeing the small jail cells a few feet away from the detectives desks. It was clear these were the holding cells, and one was currently occupied by some sort of criminal. She didn't look too dangerous. She was just a frail older looking woman with bad regrowth wearing leopard print. She looked trashy, sure. But she didn't look like a hardened criminal.

"Just ignore her. It's some junkie hooker brought in earlier for harassing men in suits at the convenience store across the road." Cyrus mentioned to Chelsea after he followed her line of sight.

Most people might be alarmed or intrigued at this information. But this caused Chelsea's shoulders to relax. Women in the sex trade was nothing new or mysterious to Chelsea. Her family was full of them, even including her mother in the past. Chelsea always joked to herself that the sex trade was the 'family business' and she was the black sheep of the family for choosing to turn her back on that lifestyle and go to college instead. It was a joke in her head, but she knew it was the truth. Her family knew it was the truth too.

"Hey everybody!" Cyrus suddenly spoke up loudly, causing all occupants of the room to cast their eyes upon Chelsea and Cyrus "My friend here has come to deliver us brownies from the diner she works at."

"Are they special brownies with the good stuff in them? If so, pass 'em over 'ere." The trashy woman in the cell slurred loudly.

"Shut up." The detective closest to the woman's cell snarled at her, and surprisingly she complied.

Chelsea looked over at him and felt her face heat up. She hadn't noticed him before when she first scanned the room but now he stood out. He was older than her, probably far too old for her to be checking him out. He must have been in his mid thirties. But she couldn't help but to be mesmerized by his handsome features. He had nice green eyes. Perhaps it was her Irish genetics subconsciously pulling her towards people of her own ancestry, but she was a sucker for green eyes.

She looked at Cyrus out of the corner of her eye hoping he hadn't noticed her staring at the detective. He hadn't, as he had begun to pass the brownies around to the detectives at their desks.

"So how do you two know each other?" A detective (who's name was Tony Profaci, as that was the name on his desk plate) asked both Cyrus and Chelsea after swallowing a big mouthful of his brownie.