As it was, he didn’t really mind this. Ever since he’d graduated from Yale two years ago, he’d spent most of his time abroad, working for NGOs. These days he only came back if he needed to organize a fundraiser. His New York contacts were good for that at least. And, luckily for Marco, charities were a bit of a competitive sport in these circles as everyone wanted to out-donate the others. Typically, they wanted to feel good about themselves without having to get their hands dirty – Marco’s galas let them do that and show off their newest clothes at the same time.
As Marco’s thoughts wandered, he was struck by inspiration. Maybe it was about time for someone to see what all these galas actually paid for. Maybe it was time for someone other than him to get their hands dirty. Pulling out his phone, he dialed a number he’d never thought he’d actually need.
“Hi, Leona?” he said. “It’s Marco. I was just wondering if you wanted to help me with a bit of a special project. It’s for a charity – the same one I’m organizing the gala for this Friday. You would? That’d be great. Only one catch – it’s in Gambia. Really? You don’t mind? That’s awesome. We can sort out the details on Friday. You’re coming to the gala, right? Your whole family? Excellent. Okay. See you then. You too. Thanks again. Bye.”
With a satisfied smiled, Marco went back to watching the scenery.
***
“Oh my Go-od,” Leona squealed, putting down her phone. “That was Marco.”
Miranda’s eyes widened as she slurped her spirulina and acai berry smoothie. “Omigod, omigod, what did he say?” she asked breathlessly.
“He wants me to come to Africa with him. To…uhh…Zambia? No, Gambia. Wherever that is. It’s for some, like, charity thing. I guess he’s having a big gala over there for, like, kings and politicians and stuff and he needs a good-looking date.”
Miranda moaned. “Christ, he’s so hot. And in Africa, he’ll be all sweaty and —”
“Okay, Miranda. Don’t get carried away. We’re in public,” Leona interrupted her enthusiastic friend.
“Right, sorry. I just can’t stop thinking about his perfect abs all slick and —”
“Miranda!”
“Right. Sorry,” Miranda took a sip of juice before continuing. “But seriously. Congratulations, girl. You finally got him.”
Leona grinned smugly. “I always get what I want,” she replied, flipping her hair over her shoulder.
The two girls giggled and decided to split a gluten-free vegan brownie to celebrate.
Chapter 2
Two weeks later, Leona was on her parents’ private jet as it descended towards the emerald green smudge that the in-flight map told her was Gambia. Leona swirled a negroni in one hand as she watched the lush canopy grow closer. She frowned, craning her neck to see where the city was. Maybe from the other side of the plane?
But the windows on the other side only showed more rapidly-approaching jungle – she could now make out individual trees. Leona frowned and finished her drink. Where the hell was the pilot taking her? Weren’t they going to the capital? God, she wondered, was the capital so small that she couldn’t even see it yet? With a shudder, she briefly regretted not paying more attention to her travel itinerary.
With a gentle thud, the plane hit the earth, cruising down what Leona was horrified to see was a dirt runway.
“We’re here, Miss Gary.” The pilot’s voice came through the intercom as the plane eased to a halt outside a low, concrete building that was badly in need of a paint job. The sun beat down on the packed earth and Leona could see a gaggle of children standing in the thin strip of shade provided by the building, shouting and pointing at her plane. She went to take another sip of her negroni and made a face when she found only ice in the glass.
The door to the passenger lounge opened and a tall, wiry stranger came on board.
“Leona Gary?” he asked, stooping slightly to keep his head from hitting the ceiling.
“Yes,” Leona replied without getting up. “Who are you?”
“You can call me George,” the man smiled, his teeth bright white against his chocolate skin. He was wearing a faded Hawaiian print shirt that looked a size too large for him, baggy beige cargo shorts, and bright blue flip flops. But, despite his unimpressive wardrobe, Leona had to admit that he was a beautiful man. His large, dark eyes were framed by thick, curling lashes and his face was slender and well-defined, with a straight nose and sensuous lips. What little she could see of his arms and legs were well-muscled, though thin, and his hands were large with long, pianist’s fingers. Leona caught herself wondering what those fingers would feel like on her skin. “Marco’s been called to the capital to sort out some bureaucratic screw-up, so he asked me to come get you. I’m the project manager.”
“Marco’s not here?” Leona repeated disbelievingly.
“Sorry,” George shook his head. “But don’t worry. We’ll take good care of you.” Gesturing for Leona to follow, George headed back outside.
Unsure what to do, Leona slid on her designer sunglasses and followed him. Outside, the situation was worse than she could have imagined. She was in the literal middle of nowhere. Before her was the dirty concrete building, the dirty gaggle of children, and a dirty Landrover. Past the dirty building, which she could only assume was supposed to be the airport, was a dirt road lined with small, square, concrete houses interspersed with the honest-to-God stick and mud huts. Behind her, jungle came streaming down a low mountain like a green tidal wave threatening to engulf the dusty little village. Leona turned in a slow circle, taking it all in, her horror mounting with every second.
“What do you think?” George asked with a smile, completely misreading her stupefied silence.
The spell was broken and Leona turned on him. “Is this some kind of sick joke?” she yelled. “Where the hell are we, the 17oos? This is totally unacceptable. Call Marco right now and tell him to get me out of here. I mean, God, does this place even have cell reception?” She rummaged in her enormous purse, searching for her phone.
“No,” said George softly, confirming her worst fears, “it doesn’t. And Marco is busy right now, like I said. I’m afraid you’ll simply have to deal with it.”
“Deal with it? This place is literally made of dirt. I can’t stay here. Where’s the pilot? He’ll take me back to New York.”
George shook his head. “He said his instructions are to leave you here. Apparently, your parents think this will be a ‘character building experience’ for you.”
“They what?” Leona screeched, stamping her foot. “How dare they, those hypocrites! Oh, my god, this is my actual worst nightmare. This is the ugliest place I have ever seen.”
George raised his eyebrows. “Marco forgot to mention you were so charming,” he said.
“Are you giving me attitude? Because I will have you fired, John.”
“George,” he corrected her. “And you can’t have me fired, Leona. I’m afraid that’s one thing your father can’t do for you.”
“Ugh!” Leona crossed her arms, glaring at George, all appreciation for his graceful beauty gone. “I thought you were supposed to take care of me?”
“And I am. I’ve brought the Landrover to take you up the mountain to the village where I’ll make sure you’re safely installed in your hut, ate a decent supper, and correctly covered your bed with the mosquito net.”
“Oh my God – we’re going up the mountain?” Leona pointed an accusing finger at the forest behind her. “How much farther from civilization can we get?”
“Well, get in the car and you’ll see. I’ve already loaded your bags. I hope you brought some practical walking shoes along with the kitchen sink,” George told her, shooting a disparaging look at the two enormous bags in the back seat.
“Ugh!” Leona huffed again but, not seeing another option, climbed into the passenger seat, slamming the door behind her.
***
Two hours of whiplash-inducing dirt road later, they arrived. The mountain village was even
smaller than the dusty town at the airstrip and it had far fewer concrete houses. Here most things were made of packed earth combined with mud and sticks – including Leona’s one-room hut. As George dropped her bags in the corner, Leona stared around her in horror. The hut had a dirt floor, a bed with a large mosquito net, a kerosene lantern, and an empty basin. There were no windows, no electric lights, and no bathroom.
“Where am I supposed to shower?” Leona asked. “Or pee for that matter?”
George untied the mosquito net and deftly tucked it under the corners of the mattress. “There’s an outhouse around the back. But you’ll have to wait until tomorrow to shower. There’s no electricity or running water here. But don’t worry. No one will care if you’re a bit smelly tomorrow. Once we get working everyone will be smelly.”
“Wait – working? Working on what, exactly?” Leona asked, terror rising.
“Didn’t Marco tell you?” George asked. “We’re building the village a school.”
“Building a school? You expect me to build a school?”
“Well, not by yourself, obviously. But we’ll put you to work mixing concrete or laying cinder blocks. I’m sure that, with time, even you can learn to be useful.”
“Oh, gee, thanks. Do you know how much I’m worth? I don’t need to be useful.”
“Okay,” said George affably. “Then sit in your hut and sulk for the rest of your time here. It’s really all the same to me. Are you hungry?”
“No,” Leona snapped, glowering at him. She was starving but was terrified of what they might try to feed her.
“Okay,” George said again. “There’s a bottle of fresh water in the corner if you get thirsty,” he pointed to a large, recycled pop bottle that Leona hadn’t noticed. “I’ll be by tomorrow to bring you breakfast and take you to the site. Don’t forget to tuck in the last corner of the mosquito net when you get into bed. Malaria is pretty common around here. Sleep well.”
When George left, Leona crawled into the bed, lay down, and began to cry. For the first time in her life, she felt hopeless and lonely.
***
The next morning Leona woke up to the sound of someone knocking on her door. For a moment she couldn’t remember where she was. The room was dark, the only light a faint glow coming from under the badly-fitted door.
“What the…” she murmured, slowly sitting up. Then it all came rushing back and she groaned, burying her face in her hands.
“Leona?” The knocking continued, now joined by George’s voice. “I have your breakfast. Time to get going.”
Snarling silently in the direction of the door, Leona tried to get out of bed only to get tangled in the mosquito net. She swore quietly. “One second,” she called as she flailed.
Finally escaping the netting, she wrenched the door open, glowering at the tall man.
George raised his eyebrows. “Your hair doesn’t care for humidity, I take it?” he asked.
Horrified, Leona’s hands raced to her head, where she could feel that her usually perfect curls had become an enormous, tangled mane. She moaned.
“Breakfast?” George asked brightly, holding up a chipped bowl of beige sludge and a tin cup of dark liquid. “It’s corn porridge. Very filling. And coffee. You’ll need it. No milk, I’m afraid. Hope you like it black.”
Leona’s lower lip trembled.
“I even managed to find you a spoon, though everyone else thought that was ridiculous. But I explained that Americans are prudes and are scared of eating with their hands. The villagers send their condolences.”
Leona looked at him as if he were an alien, her hands still trying to calm her enormous hair.
“Take the food,” George said. “You need to eat. Not even you can survive on self-pity and disdain forever.”
Leona’s stomach was clamoring for food after missing dinner last night and, gingerly, she accepted the bowl and looked around for a place to sit.
“Most people just squat,” George said, sitting himself down on the ground cross-legged.
Closing her eyes briefly, Leona followed suit, cautiously lowering herself to the ground. The corn porridge was relatively flavorless and she ate it quickly, wanting to get the experience over as fast as possible. When it was done, she washed it down with a few gulps of bitter coffee. “Blech,” she said, making a face.
George nodded. “Do you want sugar in it next time?”
“God, yes,” said Leona. “Anything.”
“Your wish is my command,” said George with a wry smile. He clambered to his feet and held out a hand to help Leona up. “Time to get to work.”
“Can I at least brush my teeth and get dressed first?” asked Leona.
George pretended to ponder this. “Oh, well… I suppose,” he said with a smile. Today Leona’s grumpiness seemed to amuse him more than anything.
“So good of you,” Leona grumbled, closing the door behind her.
***
The school they were building was at the end of the village’s one and only street. It was a square, two room affair, destined to hold about fifty children. Its walls were made of homemade cinder blocks that would eventually be covered in a mud – or plaster if they could afford it. The main concern was purchasing the books and writing materials that would go inside.
At the moment, two of the walls were about waist height, while the foundation of the other two was still being dug. George told her that they were hoping that Marco would bring back the glass for much-anticipated windows when he returned from the capital so that they could finish the first of the walls. To Leona’s surprise, it wasn’t just hired laborers building the school – everyone with a spare moment was pitching in. Women came in a steady stream offering water, black coffee, and fried bread to snack on, and children, shrieking with laughter, carried small buckets of dirt or concrete, helping in whatever way they could. Leona, who had planned to sit on a bench and sulk the whole day, felt a pang of guilt to see children happily helping with such exhausting work.
One of the children, a young girl with four braided pigtails and a faded pink dress, came forward and shyly took hold of Leona’s hand. “Do you want to work with us?” she asked, looking up at the New Yorker with an enormous smile. “I like your hair,” she added. “You look like a lion.”
George snorted with laughter and Leona shot him a dirty look. “Thanks…I guess,” she said. She wasn’t used to children. “Uh… what’s your name?”
“Loli,” said the girl, grinning even wider. “What’s yours?”
“Leona.”
Loli giggled and yelled something in a language Leona couldn’t understand to her friends. “Your name is like a lion too!” said Loli.
“I… yeah, I guess it is,” said Leona and she smiled for the first time since her plane had landed.
“Ok. Come on, lion lady,” said a boy in a Superman t-shirt, taking Leona’s other hand and tugging her towards the school. “We’re carrying mud. It’s easy. I can see that you don’t have a lot of muscles, but don’t worry. Even you can do it.”
Leona could hear George laughing as the children led her away.
The day went by much more quickly than Leona thought possible. She spent the whole time with the village children and found that she actually liked their contagious laughter and blunt honesty. The work wasn’t as hard as she’d thought it would be and, early in the day, she discovered an unexpected upside: the opportunity to watch George at work. She often found her attention wandering from the task at hand when she caught sight of him shirtless and glistening under the relentless equatorial sun, his lean muscles rippling as he worked – only to be brought back to the present by the raucous laughter of her young coworkers when she fumbled a bucket.
Unfortunately, by the time he came to get her at the end of the day, he’d put his shirt back on. As he approached, she smiled and straightened, massaging her lower back. She had a smear of dirt on her forehead and he smiled, licking his thumb and gently rubbing it away. Startled by the tender gesture, L
eona let him.
“You’re all done for the day, Leona,” he told her when the dirt was gone. “Let’s get you a shower.”
“Already?” Leona was surprised. “Wow, great. And God, yes! I’m covered in grime.”
George nodded, surreptitiously giving her a once over, noting the way sweat made her thin t-shirt cling to her breasts. “This way,” he said, turning back towards her hut. Leona waved goodbye to the kids and followed him.
Once inside her hut, George picked up the empty basin she’d seen the night before and handed it to her. “Take this up to the well and fill it with water. You can shower up there if you want, or bring it back here and shower in private. People are used to public bathing here so it’s really up to you.”
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