Saving Charlie (Stories of Serendipity Book 9) (23 page)

When she awoke the next morning, the list of things she had to do that day weighed heavily on her mind. Charlie’s body felt like it was made of lead. Everything felt heavy, and she knew it was because she had a lot to do today, and none of it was pleasant. Lots of words needed to be said, for her sake as well as others. Words were heavy in her heart, and the only way to lighten her insides was to get rid of the words.

So the first thing she did was call her shrink to make an appointment. Pauline was eager to help, and said she could stop by later that afternoon to talk. Relief mixed with trepidation filled Charlie, but she had more words to let out.

Last night had been intense, and Les had been with her the whole time. She had to give the man credit. He’d seen her during some pretty low times, and stayed with her without knowing why. As scary as it was to let him in, she knew deep down that she needed to. He could help her. Maybe even save her.

Now, to find him. He had to be around here somewhere. As if reading her mind, Les appeared in her doorway, two steaming cups of coffee in his hand, looking sexy as sin in his tuxedo pants from last night and a white undershirt. He’d used her shower, and tiny droplets of water speckled his shoulders where they’d dripped from his hair.

“Good morning, Sweetness.” God love him. His face had unasked questions written all over it, but he apparently knew better than to ask what he undoubtedly was dying to know. Charlie knew she had to tell him what happened last night, but the words she needed to say were heavy, and she didn’t have the strength to let them loose yet. She had other words to say to other people, easier words that would lessen the burden enough to hopefully tell Les what he needed to know.

“You brought me coffee? Thanks.” She scooted over while he came and sat next to her on the bed, handing her the mug.

“Um… I don’t want you staying by yourself today, not after whatever happened last night.” He chewed on the inside of his cheek and continued, “I’m not going to ask what the hell happened that scared you so badly, because I know better. I can only hope you’ll tell me on your own someday. But it scared me too, Charlie. I want to help. And your safety is very important to me.” He sighed heavily, as if he was afraid of her reaction, and it made her smile.

“I know it is. And I appreciate it. I’ve got stuff to do today, though; I’ll be out of the house. I’ll be fine.”

“You were out of the house last night, too. Let me come with you.”

Charlie shook her head. “No. I’m sorry.” She tried to reassure the uneasy man sitting next to her. “I promise I’ll be okay. He’s just trying to scare me; he caught me off guard last night, is all. He won’t hurt me.”

“How do you know that? I might feel better if I knew who he was, Charlie.” His eyes were pleading with her to open up to him, but she stood firm. She would tell him, but she didn’t feel like flaying herself alive this morning.

“He’s someone from my past, someone I didn’t think I’d ever see again.”

“Is he Adam?”

The name sent a shock through her. “No. He’s not. Adam wouldn’t scare me like that.” Although Adam might have more information about when The Man got out of prison. Maybe she should call him today too. Ugh… More words.

“Will you keep in touch with me today? Let me know you’re okay?” His brow furrowed, and Charlie reached out her hand to smooth the wrinkles there.

Desperate to change the subject, she forced a light-hearted smile on her face. “You did a great job last night with your speech. I didn’t realize you were the key-note.”

Looking sheepish, Les smiled at this lap. “Yeah, well, that’s my purpose for being on the board. They told me they needed somebody affable, sort of a liaison between the organization and the community.” He shrugged. “Honestly, I’ve been dreading that for months.”

“You did well. I wouldn’t have known you were nervous. Everyone was captivated,” Charlie tried to reassure him.

“Yeah, well it helped that you and the gang were there.”

“Did y’all go to high school together?” Charlie needed to change the subject, get Les talking about himself. She settled back into her covers to listen to his soothing voice wash over her.

“Some of us. Um, Brent, Max, Dalton and I were real close. Renae’s Dalton’s sister. And Brent’s little sister, Summer, who wasn’t there, was best friends with Casey. So yeah, most of us have known each other our whole lives.” She tried in vain to put names with faces, but the only one she could really remember was Rachel and the conversation in the restroom.

“So, how did Sam and Rachel come into the picture?” She was trying not to be obvious in her curiosity about Rachel, but she really wanted to know how close Les was to her. Did they tell each other everything? Or would Rachel keep her suspicions about Charlie to herself?

“Well, Rachel lived here awhile, and kept to herself mostly. But when Sam moved here a couple of years ago with his daughter, they hooked up and he convinced her to make her advocacy more local. She’s been volunteering with us for about six months, I guess. She works with the girls on a pretty personal level, counseling them about STDs and stuff. You wouldn’t believe some of the things these girls have been through, and none of them come out of it unscathed. Some of their afflictions are more physical, and she helps them deal with repercussions of STDs.”

“What an odd niche for a town this size…” Charlie mused.

“Rachel’s HIV positive. She works with the Health and Human Services office here in town, as well as several other non-profit organizations. She also runs a blog. That’s how she earns a living. She’s pretty cool to talk to about it.”

Well, that explains what she meant about letting Les into her past. She’d apparently had to do that with Sam. Suddenly, she was more interested in Rachel than she cared to admit. Was there actually a kindred spirit here in Serendipity? Someone who would understand her on a friendship level? The idea of mani-pedis with another woman wasn’t really her style, but someone she could invite over to share a six-pack of beer might be cool. Someone she might be comfortable around? Sharing some of her past?

Not today. There were already too many words weighing her down.

From the Houston Chronicle: December, 1994

Editorial: Local Star Quarterback a hero after uncovering a sex-slave operation

Local high school student, eighteen-year-old Adam Bookenhaven was at a party Friday night, when he heard about a “surprise” upstairs for members of the football team. The party was a celebration thrown by a fellow teammates’ father, Rusty McClemmons, for their spectacular state win.

What will send McClemmons to jail though, was not only providing alcohol to the team members and their under-aged friends, but also the “surprise,” a fifteen-year-old girl. The girl, who will remain nameless, as she is a minor, was “rented” by McClemmons for the night to entertain the football team and tied to furniture in the master bedroom.

When Bookenhaven arrived at the room for “his turn,” he realized what was happening and untied the girl, bringing her home with him before calling the police. After investigating, the police discovered the girl was part of a prostitution ring led by Douglas Manning, who insists on being called The Man. The fifteen-year-old’s prior arrest record indicates she’s been prostituting herself for Manning for at least four years, apparently against her will.

This forced prostitution is a form of human slavery, the likes of which is akin to something seen in movies, not real life. Federal laws have been enacted against it since 1910; however, that was more against the kidnapping aspect, as the sexual servitude part is too taboo to be discussed politely at dinner parties.

This girl is now a ward of the state, a tool in an ongoing investigation against a ring of pimps. A girl who will, by legal precedence, probably not be financially restituted for a lost child-hood, unless she finds a particularly idealistic attorney willing to take on a civil suit on her behalf.

While Bookenhaven’s selfless endeavors saved this girl from a life of sexual servitude, enabling her to have a chance at normalcy in a decidedly abnormal world, the odds are stacked against her.

Justin was home when she got to his house. He answered the door wearing pajama pants and a t-shirt, hair tousled. His eyes widened at the sight of her before they dropped to his own shuffling feet. He seemed embarrassed.

“Did I wake you? I’m sorry.” Charlie twisted the hem of her own t-shirt as she spoke, suddenly nervous. She was afraid he would get the wrong idea about her visit.

“No, you didn’t. Come in.” He opened the door and stepped back, watching her carefully. “Let me go get dressed real quick.” Watching him walk to his bedroom, Charlie was afraid if she sat and waited in his living room, she would lose her nerve and just start yelling at him for his stupidity.

“It’s fine. Just…hear me out, okay?”

He stilled his movements and turned to her. “Okay,” he nodded.

“Look…I know you think you love me. But all this stuff you’ve been doing isn’t love. It isn’t even the
actions
of someone in love. You have a different reality than I do, and you need someone who shares your reality. I don’t even know which one of us is in the
right
reality, but that stunt you pulled the other night…” She took a deep breath. Charlie was getting a little too enthusiastic about what she was saying, and she forced a calm she didn’t feel into her voice. “That wasn’t healthy behavior, Justin. You need to find someone who will bring out the good in you, because I know it’s there. You need to find someone who will make you want to
do
good, and
be
good. I’m not that girl. She’s out there—” Charlie spread her arms wide. “—not here,” she pointed to herself.

His eyes pleaded with her. “There’s nothing I can do to convince you this is real?”

“This isn’t real. Not for me. Real love doesn’t look like what you’ve been doing. It doesn’t smother, or dictate.” She didn’t know where this sudden authority came from.

“I’m sorry, I’ll do better.” He came closer, but she stood firm, her back rigid, unflinching.

“No, Justin. What we have isn’t healthy. I shouldn’t have ever agreed to try it with you. I wasn’t in a good place when I did. You’re not the right guy.”

“And Les is? Does he make you happy?”

She thought of last night, and the cocoon of safety she felt around him, snuggled into him while she’d slept. She nodded slowly. “Yes, he’s made me happier than anyone else ever has.” It was still a shame she couldn’t do it with him, too. Not while The Man was around.

Justin swallowed and nodded. “I understand.” He lowered himself into a nearby chair. “What you say makes sense. And it’s what the psychiatrist at the hospital said, sort of.” He looked at her. “I’m going to start seeing him regularly, and they’ve put me on some medicine.”

“Good. You probably need it.” She wasn’t trying to be mean. Lots of people needed medication to even out moods. She was one of them. He seemed to understand she meant it kindly, and wasn’t being mean-spirited, because he nodded again.

“I just wanted to drop in and check on you, and make sure you understood that you can’t come see me anymore, not in that capacity, anyway. If you need a—” she swallowed, “—friend, I’ll be here. But otherwise, that’s it. You understand?” She concentrated on keeping her voice mellow. So far, so good.

“I understand, Charlie. And I’m sorry. For everything.” He looked chagrined, and Charlie felt the insane urge to hug him. But she didn’t.

Instead, she turned to go. “Well, I have my own appointment with a shrink, so I need to head out.”

“You going to talk about me?” She could see the shame in his eyes, and felt a strange need to reassure him.

“Not much, no. I’ve got other stuff on my mind right now. I just wanted you to know that I’m not your ‘one’.” She used air-quotes on the last word, feeling a little stupid. “But she’s out there.”

He nodded again, and she wondered what sort of medication they’d put him on. He was acting so sedately. It was completely out of character for him.

Pauline’s office was in her home, a fact Charlie found outrageous. What sort of mental health professional let all the crazies know where she lived? She’d brought it up before to the woman, who laughed her off with a wave, insisting most of her patients were dissatisfied house-wives suffering from depression and feelings of inadequacy. Hardly gun-toting sociopaths.