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Reid Chapman
5 months later
“Reid, honey, come get a picture with your father and I. Just one more.” My mom ushered me towards her in the crowd of people swarming around each other at my graduation from the FBI training academy. Twenty weeks of absolute hell, but I was handed a badge about thirty minutes ago that made it all worth it.
A badge and orders to report for assignment next week. Sex and human trafficking. FBI as a Division of the Department of Homeland Security. I’m going undercover. My first assignment is meant to put my training to the test, but if I pass - when I pass; I’m going in deep.
I want to come face to face with the devil and tell him to go fuck himself.
“Ok, ready, smile.” My mom stood next to me, and my arm easily wrapped around her shoulder. I’ve been taller than her since the day I turned twelve, and I didn’t stop growing. My father stands to my right and is just shy of meeting me at eye level. I imagine that has less to do with my height and more to do with his age. My parents had me later in life. They struggled to conceive. I was their miracle baby, and they were forty before I was born.
Having older parents had its pros and cons. I never had to watch my parents struggle like many of my friends did. My father inherited the Chapman Group from his father, and his father before him. A business that has been in our family for generations. A business that I was destined to take over from birth, except I didn’t. I think my father has come to terms with it at this point, but it wasn’t always a topic of conversation you wanted to have over family dinner.
But, on the flip side, my parents were always older than the parents of all of my friends. They had more responsibilities, were further along in their careers. It was just the three of us, and to be honest, my dad wasn’t around half the time.
Then there was Alex.
After Alex’s mom died, I was kind of a loner. Not that it mattered, my goals were bigger than Friday night football games and underage drinking parties. I didn’t have time for that shit, even then. Still don’t.
“I’m proud of you son but remember – if you ever get tired of this lifestyle, you’ve got a career back home. Your desk will always be available at Chapman.” My father placed his hand on my shoulder and congratulated me in the only way he knows how – conditionally. I’m used to it at this point.
“George, let him be.” My mother leaned in to kiss me on the cheek, rubbing it in and smearing it around with the palm of her hand, like only a mother can do. Ever my biggest supporter, even if I know the thought of it scares her half to death.
“Reid, please be safe. You know how I feel about the guns.”
“Mom, I’m fully trained. I graduated in the top five percent of my class. I’m ready.”
It’s true, I am ready. The minute I left home for college I joined a group of guys at a shooting range and began perfecting my shot. Pistols, rifles, handguns, even machine guns. You name it, I’ve trained on it, spending countless hours perfecting it. In addition to that, I began Krav Maga training and have been honing my skills for the last five years. Not to mention, the rigorous training the FBI put us through the last twenty weeks. This is the pinnacle of everything I’ve been training for my entire life.
“When will you come home?” She asked, her eyes misting over as the call came over the loudspeaker that we were wrapping up.
“I don’t know, mom. But, I promise, I will always come home.” I kissed her on her head and threw an arm around my dad, who stood next to her stiffly – his face impassive before turning to head back to the Senior Special Agent I’ve been training under for the last few months.
This career is something I was born to do. It’s my destiny. I’ll be damned if I get killed before I fulfill it. I will always come home.
