Saving Charlie (Stories of Serendipity Book 9)

by Anne Conley

  Charlie followed the strumming guitar to a room at the end of a hallway. Les sat in a chair at a computer with headphones on and his guitar in his lap. He was singing softly into a microphone mounted on the desk and some sort of computer program with bars rising and falling with the sounds of his music flashed on the screen.

  The song was fast paced, with throbbing beats against the body of the guitar and an incredibly sexy, husky version of Les’s voice ringing out into the room…

  When he’d finished, she cleared her throat to alert him of her presence, beginning to feel guilty about messing up his recording session. He spun around, tangling himself in cords from the headphones in the process.

  “Hey…” His hair flopped over into his eyes, and Charlie saw he was still dressed from church in slacks and a white long sleeved shirt, the sleeves rolled up to his elbows. His hands rested on his guitar casually, but his face belied a tension she was unaccustomed to seeing on his relaxed face. “You should have called. I would have picked up a little, if I’d known you were coming over.” His eyes darted around the room, guiltily, and Charlie chuckled to herself. He probably thought she was coming over to tell him to back off again. That’s all she’d done to the poor man thus far.

  She held out her hands, palms open, in a gesture of submission. “I just wanted to say some things to you, and couldn’t wait for you to come over.”

  The look of sheer terror that marred his features sent a cackle shooting out of her mouth. Now he was really scared, so she sauntered over to his desk and removed his guitar from the death-grip he suddenly had it in, setting it gently on the floor next to him.

  “I’m hoping this will be a good talk, so quit being scared.”

  “I’m sorry; it’s just that every time you tell me something like that, it doesn’t bode well for me…”

  Wrapping her arms around his neck, she began. “We’ve talked a lot lately, about a lot of things. But there’s one thing we haven’t touched on in a while.”

  He quirked an eyebrow at her, his eyes never leaving her lips. “What’s that?”

  “A collaboration.” She licked her lips, trying to wipe away the nerves. Everything inside her said he would agree to this. But she was about to put herself out there in a way that she’d never done before, and fear was a powerful emotion.

  “You’d asked me to come work for you. Before. I’m proposing we work together. Your remodeling/building and my inventory. I have enough space in my house for you to move your office to, and…” She gulped. This was it. “The rest of your stuff. I counted this morning. I have five empty rooms, needing to be filled.” She shifted in his lap and dug around in her pocket. Pulling out what she had brought for him, she said, “Close your eyes and hold out your hand.” When he complied, she dropped it in his outstretched palm.

  It was a key, a copy of her house key, on a keychain with a heart-shaped guitar on it. She’d had a hard time finding it on a Sunday afternoon, where everything was closed in this sleepy town, but had managed to find a gift kiosk at the truck stop on the outskirts of town with the perfect keychain.

  “Are you asking me to move in with you?”

  “I know this may seem really fast, I mean, really fast. But there’s something about you that speaks to me like nobody else, Les.” She stopped and forced herself to take a deep breath. “You’ve awakened so many things in me that I thought were long buried, things I never planned to visit again. But the fact that I’m visiting them is good for me. You’re good for me.” Her eyes dropped to his throat where his Adam’s apple bobbed. “I love you, Les.”

  “So, you want me to move in with you?”

  She looked into his eyes and saw the eagerness there, the joy, and suddenly her heart was full. “Yes.”

  “And work with you?” His eyes were wide, and his Adam’s apple bobbed as he swallowed. “Together?”

  She nodded again, biting her lip.

  Holy Christ, he’d hit the jackpot. Standing and swooping her into his arms, Les let out a joyful whooping noise.

  “For real? You’re not messing with me?” He’d given her his everything last night, and been terrified she’d reject it. After everything he’d learned about her, all they’d shared, and everything he’d given her, Les was so scared she’d run again. But looking at her now, he saw she’d given it all back, with this one little key. She bit her lip as he realized she was just as scared of rejection as he was.

  Smoothing her lip with his thumb as she slowly shook her head from side to side, he managed a croaked, “Of course. It’s an awesome idea. We’ll be a great team, Sweetness.” He kissed her, and as she melted into his arms, he fairly tasted relief on her tongue. He couldn’t stop his arms from pulling her tighter, hauling her against his body, feeling her soft curves against him, and he groaned into her mouth. “Let me get started packing.” She giggled into his shoulder as he set her back down on the floor.

  He saved everything on his computer and the flash drive he had inserted, but before he started yanking out cords to pack into her truck, he turned to her, heart shaped flash drive in his hand. “Here. I made this for you.”

  He watched her stare at the tiny piece of plastic and microchips in her hand, eyes glassy with tears.

  “Oh, Les, you shouldn’t have.”

  “I told you I would. Why shouldn’t I?”

  “Because, I’m looking forward to hearing you sing to me in the flesh.” Her grin was heart-stopping, and Les was tempted to start singing right this minute.

  Except her smile wasn’t about the singing and he knew it.

  Gripping her hips, Les pulled her against him. “Sweetness, I’ve got other plans for the flesh…”

  Epilogue: six months later

  From opening comments during a group session:

  “Hey y’all. My name’s Charlie Booke. I’m not here to convert you to Christianity, or make you lead a straight and narrow lifestyle. I just want you to see that anything is possible. No matter how low you’ve been, somebody’s been there already and they managed to climb out of the hole. You’ll probably never be what society would call ‘normal’ but you’ll be better. It always gets better. Eventually. Besides, normal is a bit over-rated isn’t it? Anyway, I’m not going to spout Facebook memes at you, I’m going to tell you my story, and hope that you get something out of it…”

  Les never ceased to be amazed when Charlie dressed as The Liberator. As she dressed, she changed, putting on her game face, the black clothing her armor. She tucked her emotions inside her cap with her hair. Of course, he couldn’t let her do it alone. As useless as he felt with stuff like that, he still went with her, for back-up. He got his concealed carry license when he insisted she get hers, so they were both packing. They hadn’t needed them, so far. Of course, he was dealing with his own issues of feeling useless in a conflict, but the idea of his Charlie getting into another ambush alone terrified him more than the idea of Les shooting himself in the foot.

  Once Charlie’s game face was on, she didn’t speak and Les didn’t push her. He just watched her work. They drove an hour to the truck stop in silence. Sarah told them there was a trucker in cahoots with The Refuge who would “hire” as many girls for services as he could and hold them there. It only worked once, maybe twice before he had to move on and work a different stop with a different group of rescuers. But they’d take what they could get.

  It had taken a while for Les to come to grips with Adam and Sarah’s role in all of it. When he first confronted Adam about his creation of The Liberator, and blackmailing of Charlie, Adam was sheepish. Les wanted to kill him for putting his Charlie in danger.

  And then he thought about it. Becoming The Liberator really had helped her embrace that part of herself that needed help. She had done something for other girls like herself, and now that she’d ‘outed’ herself, so to speak, she was speaking with the girls and helping with their mental recovery. At least letting them know they have hope of leading normal lives someday. That was huge.

&n
bsp; Adam had convinced a minor player in a larger trafficking ring to turn state’s evidence. Adam got locations in return for immunity. Of course, Les was conflicted about that. He didn’t want the bastard to have immunity, but he also wanted to be able to get as many girls as he could off the streets. So he just worked with what he had: information on locations of girls who needed help. And they would continue to keep trying to bring down the big dogs from their little corner of the world.

  Pulling up next to the enormous red freight-liner with the gray pinstripes, Charlie hopped out and banged on the side of the truck before Les could even get out of the driver’s side. Few words were spoken as Charlie ushered two girls into the back seat with instructions for them to buckle up, they were going somewhere safe.

  Les felt a funny mixture of pride and uselessness watching Charlie work. He was still scrambling into the driver’s seat when she turned to the girls.

  “I know you may be scared, but you can be done with that life. We’re here to help you.”

  The girls were young and silent, dark circles under their eyes that couldn’t be covered with makeup, no matter how much they’d caked on. Their prepubescent bodies contradicted the clothing they wore—cut-off jeans short enough to show ass cheeks, skyscraper heels, and tank tops with no bras. Like all the others, they didn’t really trust Les, eyeing him warily and not speaking.

  Weakly, he said, “We’ll be on the road a while. Y’all can nap if you’re tired.” It was an hour back to Serendipity, and as the safe house still wasn’t finished for at least six more months, the girls would go to the intake center, which is also the counseling center, and the doctors’ offices. Eventually, that would all be at the safe house, and Les was working on it as fast as he could. But for the moment, the girls are living in various foster facilities with people who have been sort of trained to take care of them. It wasn’t ideal, but it was the best they could do at the moment.

  Les drove as fast as he dared down back roads, darkness cloaking their escape. The girls were visibly tense in the backseat, undoubtedly either envisioning the beatings they’d receive from their pimps, or wondering which frying pan they were jumping into. One girl looked older than the other, and the pucker on her lips spoke of an intelligence, possibly running through escape routes to get back to the only life she was familiar with.

  Rachel met them at the intake center. Coming out to the truck, she tossed a wink to Les and Charlie over her shoulder before ushering the girls inside.

  Rachel and Charlie had become fast friends in the last few months. To Les’s knowledge, Rachel was the only girl friend that Charlie really trusted. He’d watched her try with the other women in his group, but her contempt with Renae was hilarious in his mind. Charlie referred to her as a “raging imbecile” at her lack of attention to Les when he’d thought he was in love with her. She’s warmed a little toward the new-again mother, but he didn’t hold high hopes of them becoming fast friends anytime soon.

  She was friendly toward Casey though, which Les was grateful for, since he spent so much time with her husband, Brent. Something about the tattoo on her leg had drawn the women together. That part was still a mystery to Les, how Casey knew that particular detail. When he asked her about it, she smiled at him mysteriously and called it women’s intuition. Women’s intuition was one of those mysteries of life that had always eluded him, like remembering dreams right after he woke up. And why women always went to the bathroom in clusters.

  Three days later, Charlie was pulling up her stockings and attaching them carefully to the holders in the belt, wrapping the present she knew Les had longed for his entire life. Today was the day she would give him his deepest desire.

  All of her days, Charlie had been an empty box, wandering around through a valley so dark she couldn’t even tell if her eyes were open half the time. Les had not only filled her box with love, acceptance, and hope, but he had led her across the valley and opened her eyes to see the light of life. She would give him everything she had back. She’d finally realized that’s what loving someone was all about.

  As she wrapped herself in the cream colored silk, she imagined Les’s able fingers unwrapping his gift. She tied the multi-colored sash around her hips and looked in the mirror, again losing her breath at the beauty she saw there. Her tattoos, which had been armor up until now, were emphasized by the colorful sash on her waist, calling attention to the beauty and strength that they represented to Les. He’d taught her to love herself, to find beauty in her own image. As she painted her face carefully, she didn’t use the makeup as a mask, but as another, complimentary, feature.

  She smoothed her hair over her shoulders, for once feeling the silkiness of it, wondering if Les felt the same way. Then, instead of chiding herself for doing all of this for a man, she patted herself on the back. She was finally getting the whole reciprocation part of relationships.

  Most women didn’t do this alone, but Charlie was enjoying her last slice of solitude before joining Les on the embarkation of the rest of their life together. She smoothed the lip gloss over her painted lips before pressing them together and looking at the full effect in the mirror. She knew what Les would say.

  “Fucking stunning.” She could almost hear his words in her head, and she smiled to herself, imagining his reaction. The alarm on her phone went off, telling her it was time, and she turned to walk out the door.

  Entering the sanctuary, Charlie couldn’t focus on the strains of the Wedding March that Jason belted out on the saxophone, nor the sea of smiling faces of Les’s friends and family. She could only focus on the one face, beaming at her at the front of the church.

  Les’s mother wanted him to be married in their church, and as Charlie walked down the aisle, focusing on the heart-stopping smile Les flashed at her, she was glad for it. She didn’t necessarily believe, but the fact that most of these people did, and were wishing their union well in the face of the God they had faith in, gave her faith that something was looking out for her, finally. Even if it was a mass-delusion of all these people. Positive energy in any form was good, wasn’t it?

  She prolonged the anticipation, purposefully slowing her steps as she smiled at her groom. He bounced on his heels, looking stellar in his tux, his eyes roaming her body before landing on her face. He mouthed the words, “I love you so much,” as she continued her trek up the aisle, and she winked back. At the front of the church, Charlie turned to face Les, as he brought his hands up to her face to wipe tears she hadn’t realized she’d been crying.

  Tears of happiness of course. Charlie had finally been saved.

  Note from the Author –

  Thank you so much for sticking with me through the telling of this story. When I listened to a woman speak about the Refuge of Light at a women’s group two summers ago, I knew I had to do more than sit around and eat sandwiches and talk about the horrible situation.

  So I wrote Charlie’s story, and Les was really the only man for her.

  The Refuge of Light is a real organization in my area, raising money for the construction of a safe house for the girls they get out of trafficker’s clutches. While there is no Liberator, they are a dedicated, assertive team of volunteers who strive to get as many girls out of pimps’ hands as possible. They are currently trying to put them someplace to heal from the injuries (spiritual, mental, and physical) inflicted. At the moment, the girls are put into juvenile facilities, or in the best case scenarios, foster care. Neither of these situations is ideal. The Refuge of Light would like to provide a holistic approach to rehabilitating the girls and getting them back into society, in most cases, better situations than they were in before they were trafficked.

  What shocked me on a personal level was the fact that this is not just an urban dilemma. Sure, children in large cities are at risk, but so are the youth in rural areas. When I realized how many kids had been taken from my tiny little piece of idealistic country, enough for the need of a safe house, I noticed more and more flyers for missing girls
at convenience stores. Each time I see one, I wonder if they’re hiding at a friend’s house, or if they’ve been trafficked.

  For more information on human trafficking of children in the United States, please read this document prepared for Congress in 2012: http://fas.org/sgp/crs/misc/R41878.pdf#search=Sex Trafficking

  For more information on the Refuge of Light, and how you can help them (they provide goods and services as well as gift registries if you don’t want to donate cash) please visit www.refugeoflight.org

  If you enjoyed this story, I would like to encourage you to leave a review, and tell your friends. Thank you so much.

  About The Author

  Anne has written her entire life and has the boxes of angst-filled journals and poetry to prove it. She’s been writing for public consumption for the last four years. Currently she is writing two romance series. In Stories of Serendipity, she explores real people living real lives in small town Texas in a contemporary romance setting. In The Four Winds, she chronicles God’s four closest archangels, Uriel, Gabriel, Raphael, and Michael, falling in love and becoming human. She lives in rural East Texas with her husband and children in her own private oasis, where she prides herself in her complete lack of social skills, choosing instead to live with the people inside her head. Check out her blog, www.anneconley.com for updates, book blurbs, and more.

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