by Rhonda Bowen
His voice is lower than usual. “So which one is it, Care?”
I am still breathless, and I don’t even bother to open my eyes. “I don’t remember. Maybe you have to do it again for me to be sure.”
He laughs and kisses me one more time and I wrap my arms around him loving the feel of his arms around me. Dutch and Me. Me and Dutch. Dutch. My friend. My confidant. My boss.
My boss.
He is my boss. And I am his employee. And not just his employee. I am the woman who slept with other men for money. I am a prostitute. A whore.
I pull away from him. “No. We can’t.”
He looks down at me slightly dazed. “Why the heck not?”
“Because,” I can’t even look at him. “Because you don’t want me. You know who I am, what I did.”
“I know who you were,” he corrects. “And I know you are not that person anymore.”
“But before…”
He reaches for my hand. “I don’t care about your before.”
“You say that now.” I move further away and wrap my arms around myself. “But it will bother you later. I know it will. You can’t look at me and not think about those things.”
“I can. With God’s help, I can.”
I bite my lip and turn away, the words on my tongue breaking my own heart. “It will be easier if you find someone else.”
He steps closer, placing his hands on my shoulders. I try to move away but he won’t let me.
“Look at me, Care.”
I force my eyes to his and see nothing that I expect there. There is no disgust. No anger. No pity. Instead, I find love, compassion, warmth, all the things I never see in the eyes of the men who touch me.
“It is never going to be easy, Carrie, because relationships never are. And if I am going to struggle with someone, I want it to be you. I want it to be someone I know I can trust, who trusts me, who loves God, who has a good heart, who loves me for who I am and not what I have. And that’s you, Carrie. Don’t you love me?”
I look away again, but he turns my chin so I have to look at him. “If you don’t, tell me and I will never touch you again. But I think I know you and I think you do. Don’t you?”
I am blinking back tears, but I don’t look away. “Yes, I do. I do love you.”
He lets out a sigh of relief then pulls me into his arms. “Then the rest, we can handle.”
“Are you sure? Cause it’s not just me. It’s Nina and sometimes Delia…”
He kisses my hair. “I wouldn’t have you without them.”
I bury my face in his neck and let a few more tears flow. I have everything I need and want right here. I could never have imagined it was possible. God, you are so amazing.
I pull away suddenly.
“Wait! We have to do it.”
“Do what?”
“The thing.”
“What…really?”
I dash over to the kitchen and open the fridge. Empty except for a few bottles of water. I open the freezer and grin.
“There is no way there is anything in there,” Dutch says.
I pull out an ice cream bar, and he laughs out loud.
“I had a feeling he’d leave some stuff in here for when Zoe comes by to play on the swing.” I close the fridge door. “Let’s go!”
He follows me up the stairs into the master bedroom and onto the little balcony it has. We are cracking the seal on the ice cream bar when Nina spots us.
“Hey! What are you guys eating?”
“Ice cream,” Dutch yells.
“Did you find that in the freezer?” Malcolm asks. “It’s got to be at least four months old.”
I take a bite. “Tastes fine to me!”
Dutch takes a bite also, blowing on the cold chunk of ice in his mouth. “Oh, oh, tho colth!”
“Hey! Wait for me!” Nina dashes towards the house.
“So I guess you decided to take the place?” Malcolm calls out.
“Yeah, she’ll take it,” Dutch answers for me. “Minus three hundred off the rent. This backyard is gonna need a lot of maintenance.”
Malcolm nods. “Fair enough. You got a deal.”
“We’re gonna live here?” Nina yells as she runs onto the tiny balcony. “Yay!”
She grabs my arm and pulls it lower so she can steal the ice cream.
“Uncle D, are you gonna come live here too?”
“No!” Dutch and I say at the same time.
“But I’ll come by and hang out anytime you want,” he adds with a grin.
Nina lets out another squeal of delight before leaning against his side with the ice cream bar in one hand. He lifts her arm a little higher and crouches over to take a bite and I get a glimpse of the future. It makes my heart swell with happiness.
For once in my life, it is a future I am really looking forward to.
END
Author’s Note
I recently saw a Buzzfeed quiz which asked “What would you do for 5 million dollars?”. It listed options like giving up the internet for 15 years to eating your pet. This kind of question is fun to ponder because likely very few of us will ever have to seriously answer it. But what about similar kinds of questions? Like, what would you do for a meal? What would you do for a sick child? What would you do for a place to sleep on a cold night?
This last question is one a friend of mine had to ask herself during her post university years when she couldn’t afford rent. And sometimes the answer for her was to sacrifice her body.
My friend is not alone. The women who make these choices are not so different from you and me. They are teenagers who are thrust out of the care system. They are college students and recent graduates. They are divorcees. They are single mothers.They are your neighbours and former cowerkers.
The choices they make are complicated. Sometimes it’s hooking up with a guy you don’t really like so that you can sleep at his place or staying with a boyfriend you can’t stand because you can’t make the rent without him. Sometimes it’s staying in an unhealthy marriage because if you leave you might lose custody of your child.
This was never God’s design. And just like it broke my heart when my friend told me she exchanged sex for shelter, I know it breaks God’s heart to see woman have to make these exchanges.
Helping women out of poverty eliminates some of this. A CBS news article on this issue suggests a few preventative steps women can take. These include staying connected socially- making sure that we don’t neglect friends and family; staying connected professionally, especially for women who take time off to raise children making it easier to get back into the workforce later if necessary. The list also includes keeping up your skills and knowing and controlling your own finances.
Even with the most care however a life disaster can leave us in a challenging situation. For women who need help and support there are places you can go:
For Emergency Shelter in Canada:
Shelter Safe - www.sheltersafe.ca
This site provides a list of shelters and telephone numbers by province. Check out this site and make a note of numbers to call in case of an emergency
YWCA Canada - http://ywcacanada.ca/en
This organization provides emergency housing for short-term situations; long term subsidized housing; employment and training; childcare services and even interest-free loans. If you feel yourself slipping, try the YWCA in your city or region for help.
For Emergency shelter in America
Women’s Shelters - https://www.womenshelters.org/
This site provides a nationwide list of shelters by state and city. It includes addresses and telephone numbers. Check out this site and make a note of numbers to call in case of an emergency
Salvation Army - https://www.salvationarmyusa.org/usn/
The Salvation Army also provides emergency shelter as well as counselling, unemployment assistance and support for veterans and addicted persons. Use the link above to find the Salvation Army closest to you.
Women’s poverty is a real issue. Let us help and support each other as sisters because when one of us makes it, all of us make it. If you want to know more about the God of love who created each woman special and precious, please check out the links below.
Go Deeper...
Get to know Jesus
http://www.amazingfacts.org/bible-study/get-to-know-jesus
Learn about God’s promises to you
http://www.amazingfacts.org/bible-study/gods-promises
About the Author
Rhonda Bowen knew she would be a writer as early as eighth grade when she wrote her first novel with a classmate in a dollar notebook. While waiting for the day to come she completed a degree in Communications and spent a few years working in Public Relations and Event Planning. Throughout this time however, her desire to write stayed alive. She eventually completed her first novel, Man Enough for Me, which was released under Kensington Books’ Dafina imprint in February 2011.
Several years, a stint in Asia and a career change finds her still writing. She has written several romance novels and her books have been featured in PUBLISHERS WEEKLY and LIBRARY JOURNAL. When not writing or entertaining children in the name of education, she enjoys talking to her family on Skype, haggling with street vendors for a better price and finding ways to travel on a shoestring budget. Visit her online at www.rhondabowen.com , www.facebook.com/RhondaBowenBooks or drop her a note at [email protected].
Oh and...
Don’t believe everything you hear. Most authors really survive on chocolate and feedback. If you enjoyed this novel - and even if you didn’t - please take the time to write a review and post it online. You might save an author’s life.
Enjoyed Two For the Show? Check out the first chapter from Morgan’s story Under My Skin…
Chapter 1
“Take your clothes off.”
“Huh?”
Morgan watched the media mogul’s eyes widen like saucers as he second guessed her words. But she didn’t flinch.
“You heard me.” She took a step closer. “Take it all off. I want to see what you’re working with under there.”
His voice dropped as he leaned closer, his eyes glancing around. “Here? Right now? In the office? What about everyone...”
“Trust me.” Morgan slipped her hands into the lapels of his jacket, easing it off his shoulders and letting it drop to the floor. “It’s nothing they haven’t seen before.”
She watched as he unbuttoned his shirt, his eyes staying on her the whole time, his usual confident swager diluted with uncertainty. But when the shirt came off, she was too busy sizing up his physique to notice the look on his face.
She sighed. “This is not going to work for me. You have to hit the gym. Immediately.”
“Excuse me?”
“Come on Bryan,” Morgan picked up a clipboard from the nearby desk. “You are the nightly news anchor for a major local syndicate. You cannot be walking around with a paunch.”
The tall raven haired man snatched up his shirt, shoving his hands back into the sleeves. “I do not have a paunch.”
“Okay fine,” Morgan conceded. “Not a full paunch, but it is definitely undefined. And you cannot be New York’s nightly news heart throb without at least a four pack.”
Bryan frowned as he buttoned quickly. “You know Morgan, I respect your opinion. You have helped me a lot with my career, but I think you’ve gone too far.”
Morgan walked over and put her hands on his shoulders. “Bryan. How many years have we worked together?”
“Two.”
“And how many times have you been promoted since we worked together?”
Bryan pursed his lips. “Three.”
“And how many endorsements have you attracted since I stared working on your image?”
He let out a breath. “Six. But...”
“But I know that you are looking for that CNN anchor position. You think Anderson Cooper has belly flab?”
Bryan bristled but Morgan held him firm.
“Trust me on this one,” Morgan met his eyes. “Looks aren’t everything, but in your business they’re at least seventy percent - and that’s not just a pretty face. That’s the whole package.”
Bryan shook his head and tucked his shirt into his dress pants. “You are lucky I like you Morgan...”
She grabbed her clipboard and scribbled quickly. “And you’re lucky you’re one of my favorite clients. I want to see you make it to CNN, cause then at least there will be one person on the network I can trust.”
Bryan cracked a smile. “Alright boss, so what do I do?”
Morgan tore the piece of paper off her clipboard and handed it to Bryan. “Call this guy. He’s an amazing personal trainer. A little pricey, but he will have your body looking like Channing Tatum’s by the end of the summer.
Bryan took the slip and looked at it. “That good huh?”
“So good you’ll end up in the gossip columns.” Morgan said backing into the hallway. “I have to run up to a meeting. But go see Tori in wardrobe. We picked out a couple styles for you, and an outfit for the Daytime Emmys.”
“You’re the best Morgan.” Bryan’s voice floated out to her from the room.
“You’re welcome!”
Morgan headed down the hallway of the basement floor of Chrysalis, passing by hair and make-up, wardrobe and accessories. The open eclectic layout allowed her to see everything that was going on across the floor lovingly called the beauty warehouse. It was where most of the company’s hands-on work took place. Where make-over concepts for clients went from ideas to reality. It was where she had started out as a make-up artist some four years ago. But she had moved up since then, both metaphorically and literally. She waved at a few girls before stepping into the elevator headed for the third floor. The doors were about to close when a hand shot out to stop them. Morgan quickly pressed the door open button and fought the tiniest twinge of annoyance at having to share the elevator.
“Morgan! Looks like we’re headed to the same place.”
Morgan smiled as the lean olive toned man stepped into the elevator with her.
“Looks that way Clay,” she responded. “Headed to the client meeting?”
“That I am...”
Clay was saying more but Morgan missed it because she was too distracted by the creature that stepped on after him.
It was brushing six feet and appeared to be male, though Morgan couldn’t be one hundred percent sure due to the growth on the lower half of his face and the fuzzy longish braids sticking out from under the black baseball cap jammed onto his head. What Morgan did know for sure was that this man was going in the wrong direction. Usually individuals entered the beauty warehouse looking like this, not leave it. With his crumpled plaid shirt, thrown over a black t-shirt and jeans he looked like the ‘before’ on a style by jury episode. His only saving grace where his sparking tan high tops that looked like a twist on Timberlands. They were nice, like nothing she had seen in a store, and straight out of the box crisp.
Nonetheless even those couldn’t keep Morgan from wrinkling her nose and stepping back instinctively as he entered. It wasn’t that he smelled bad, he just looked like he should.
“...remember Morgan?”
“Huh?”
Morgan snapped back to the present when she realized Clay was still talking to her.
“I said, remember we had mentioned giving out new client a tour of our offices before we met with them?”
“Oh yes,” Morgan said as her destination filtered back to her mind. Before she had been distracted by the appearance of Rick Rubin the second she had been on her way to a meeting with Clay, their boss Geoff, and a potential new client. As the senior image consultant at Chrysalis she occasionally got called into these meeting to help prod an iffy client over the image management cliff. She was particularly excited about this new client. They were an up and coming brand that she was itching to work with.
“Yes, did you already do that?” sh
e asked as the elevator doors opened and she stepped out. She glanced back and noticed the monster man had stepped out also. She was about to ask him if he was lost when Clay answered.
“Yes,” Clay clapped the man on a questionably clean shoulder. “And I really am starting to think he’s getting a feel for what we do. Right Derek?”
Morgan’s jaw bounced a little when it hit the floor. She took a second look at the third member of their elevator party. She still couldn’t see his face clearly but she swore on her Prada slingbacks that he was smirking at her.
Before she could form a response however, the doors to their meeting room opened and Geoff ushered them inside where spunky looking honey-colored young woman with bright red hair and lips to match was already waiting. In her Fuchsia jacket and black and white zebra print pants she looked exactly like what Morgan thought the head of an up and coming footwear brand would look like.
“Looks like everyone is here,” Geoff stepped forward. “Let’s make the introductions. I think everyone here knows me. Clay is our client services rep and this is Morgan our Senior Image Consultant. These are two of our best team leaders at Chrysalis and if you do chose to work with us they will be personally heading up your team.”
Geoff turned to Morgan who by now had managed to stop staring at the breathing thing standing next to Clay.
“Morgan I think you’re the only one who hasn’t met everyone yet. This is Derek and Portia Wynters, the founders of Solid Step Footwear.”
Morgan stepped forward and shook the hand of the stylish red haired woman, returning her mischievous smile. She would enjoy working with her. She couldn’t help the way her smile slipped just a little as her eyes slid over to Derek. With his hands in his pockets and a scowl on what she could see of his face she knew she had an unwilling participant. She sighed as her eyes did another appraisal of what stood before her. She hoped Geoff had planned for a large makeover budget - they had their work cut out for them.
