Ty Jaden had better shit to be doing than freezing his balls off, waiting for one of his regulars to get his works. Yet, he stood down the street a couple of blocks away, watching for the old man to return. Had he known it was going to take this long, he probably would have told him to forget it, but he couldn’t do that to Art. He had been a regular for as long as Ty could remember, and he knew the old guy needed a fix to get through the cold night.I swear, when I get out of here I’m going somewhere warm. Someplace where below zero wind-chill isn’t in the daily weather report. Ty pulled his hands up into the sleeves of his coat. He wished he had thought to grab some gloves before he left home. His old, worn, black leather jacket didn’t do much to keep him warm even with his black hoodie underneath. The bitter chill nipped at his cheeks and stung the exposed flesh. It felt more like January than March. Ty flipped up the collar on his jacket and dropped his chin, crossing his arms across his chest and trying not to shiver.Ty kicked at a little pile of gray ice that was once pristine white snow. Just like everything else in the city, it ended up dirty and ugly. In his world there was no such thing as lasting beauty.“Damn it, old man. Fucking hurry up,” he mumbled under his visible breath. The streets were mostly empty. His eyes followed a homeless guy further down the block. The man stumbled and swayed as he crossed the street heading towards the alley. The spotlight created by the street lamp behind him highlighted his ragged old jacket and the brown bag clutched in his hand. Ty shook his head as he watched. The poor bastard would probably freeze before morning if he wasn’t lucky enough to be picked up for public intoxication.Ty glanced towards the small storefront that was Safe Works. He was the required distance away, barely. He rarely made exchanges that close to the place—and so visibly—but it was a quiet night and the chance of being seen was minimal. Ty had sent Art in to pick up new shit, doubting he had anything and knowing he’d just steal what he needed off some other junkie. Ty had been around enough junkies to know that clean needles didn’t matter to them, but he tried to encourage them, anyway. It was the least he could do for them.But there was only so much Ty could do; everyone had to make their own decisions in life. There was no changing the direction his own decisions had taken him, even if he wanted to. Ty flexed his pecs involuntarily as he often did when he thought about the reminder he carried, inked above his heart. Redemption. He wondered if there really was such a thing for a person like him. Art was just lucky to have found him and that he happened to be carrying. He hadn’t planned on being found tonight. This was Ty’s night to himself, a night he could be someone else for a little while, at least.He had left his guitar at the bar, and would have to go back and get it before going home. Ty had been looking forward to playing at the open-mic night. When he was onstage he could escape and forget about everything. Forget who he was, where he was, but mostly forget the disgusting life he led. The desire to play had left him after Art had tracked him down.Ty turned and looked down the block. No sign of life beyond the cars driving by at the end of the street. The cold highlighted the exhaust that ghosted behind them. It reminded him of smoke from a cigarette. His fingers twitched to reach for his pack but it was too cold to hold one. Finally, he saw Art emerge from the plain brick storefront. As Art shuffled down the sidewalk he called out to Ty, bringing him out of the shadows.“Damn, Art, keep it down,” Ty growled at him. “What the fuck took you so long?”“The angel.”