“Yeah, no bikini,” Ray says.
“Why would a waitress need to wear a bikini?”
“For a pool party,” Jillion says, leaning across the table for a club sandwich.
Ray slowly sips his coffee and quirks a brow at her. “She really left you clueless?”
“Well,” Jillion says, “the clients like us to feel like guests. To mingle and interact.”
My stomach sinks. “Is this a stripping gig?”
Ray’s cup halts on its way to his lips. “No, you don’t have to take anything off, just smile and let people flirt with you. Most of your pay is in tips, but there’s nothing illegal going on. I’m not a pimp. You can quit whenever you want.”
“But you won’t,” Jillion says. “It’s good money, and you don’t have a ton of time before you pop.”
“You’re pregnant?” Ray asks.
“Unfortunately. Is that a problem?” I remove a tomato from a BLT wedge and discard it before biting into the sandwich, trying not to react as he gives me a slow appraisal.
“You’ll do fine. You’d be surprised what people are into. After we’re finished here, Jillion will take your measurements in the bathroom, so I can get your uniform for tomorrow. Shave and do your hair and makeup. This client is fancy. You’ll be in silk and pearls.”
“How do I know you’re not pulling me into human trafficking?”
He smirks. “You’re very pessimistic.”
“I’ve had a hard life.”
“You’ll be in public,” Ray says. “It’s in Ballroom C at the Hilton Hotel. I’ll come by at three, and you can drive.”
“The shelter closes their doors at eight.”
“You’ll have your own room at the hotel. It’s all booked. I like to keep my employees happy. And if you must leave, just go. No one will notice after an hour or two. But make yourself known before that or you might not be selected to come back.”
“How much is the pay?”
“Five hundred paid upfront. Plus tips.”
“To waitress?” Shoot, I’d strip for that kind of money.
“In silk and pearls,” Jillion says.
I wipe my hands on a napkin and shake his hand. “I’ll see you tomorrow at three.”
Chapter 21
The smell of cinnamon fills the air when I walk into the community center of the church to check in for my evening of punishment. The kitchen is abuzz with banging pots and old lady chatter.
Luckily, I slip past the women unnoticed. Otherwise, my cheeks would turn red from all the pinching they’d receive. My family has been coming to this church since before I was born.
The church office door is ajar.
Knock, knock.
“Come in,” says a voice from within.
I push open the door and slip inside.
“Zain? What brings you to church this afternoon?” Reverend Hulbert asks, pushing up his glasses.
“Here to volunteer, sir.”
“Oh, great. Thank you. Not enough of you teenagers take the time to help others. I’m glad to have you. You’re an unselfish one.”
If he only knew. According to my father and Farren, selfish is my middle name. And I probably wouldn’t be here if I wasn’t forced to be.
He opens a desk drawer and pulls out a gold key on a Jesus Saves keychain. “Head out back to the shed and grabs the tallest ladder. Take it to the sanctuary. I just sent another volunteer to start hanging the prayer requests on the Christmas tree. You can use the ladder to reach the top branches. I’ll meet you at the back door to hold it open.”
With a cobweb-covered ladder in tow, I make my way through the cold to the back door of the church.
Reverend Hulbert opens the door as promised. “It’s been a while since we used the ladder, I see.”
We walk by the baptismal and through the choir chairs into the main sanctuary. The scent of fresh pine fills the air. I love the smell of Christmas.
The tree stands to the right of the pulpit next to the grand piano. It’s about twenty feet tall and is covered in a riot of green, red, and white bulbs. The lights reflect off the floor-to-ceiling stained glass window of a cross as the afternoon sun adds more twinkle to the magnificent light show.
“I doubt you’ll be able to get all the way to the top with the ladder, but just do the best you can,” Reverend says.
I stand the folding ladder up and hand him the keychain.
The church doors open, and we both turn to see the new arrival.
“Ah, yes. This is your helper.”
Bray walks down the aisle with her head down.
“Brayleigh, I’ve enlisted help for you.”
She jumps at the sound of her name and hollers.
“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to scare you, child. I’ll leave you to it. Dinner will be in an hour. You’re free to leave when all the prayer cards are up, or at eight, whichever comes first.” Reverend Hulbert exits to the back hallway.
A smile builds on my face as Bray makes her way toward the tree. I haven’t seen her since the Jingle Jam. I haven’t seen her since we both became officially single. My pulse quickens as she nears me with a smile.
“Hey, Zain.” Her melodic voice causes the hair on my neck to rise. I want to bathe in the waves her sound creates. “What are you doing here?”
She pulls me into a hug. Her hair is hanging in damp curls like she just got out of the shower. Doesn’t she know it’s cold outside and she should dry her hair before leaving so she won’t catch a cold?
“Volunteering. My punishment for being drunk at Jingle Jam.” She tries to release me, but I hold on for a second longer. She smells like a bouquet of flowers. “What are you doing here?”
“About the same.” She looks away. Her eyes are slightly bloodshot and have a hint of dark under them.
“I’m sorry to hear about the breakup.”
She shakes her head. “Don’t be. I’m sorry to hear about your breakup.”
I laugh. “Definitely don’t be sorry for that.”
She giggles in return, but it’s not her normal carefree chuckle. Exhaling, she turns and picks up a large basket of cards with biblical images on one side and handwritten notes on the other topped off with a gold or silver ribbon.
“This is our job,” she says, holding up one of the prayer cards with a silver ribbon. “There’s got to be over a thousand in here. I guess a lot of people have Christmas prayers they want answered.”
“Yeah, I think my little brother has one in there, praying for an iPad so he can watch his shows any time he wants without his pesky sisters telling him what to watch.”
“I didn’t know you had a little brother. How old is he?”
“He’s five.”
“My little brother is five, too.”
“I don’t remember. Is he your foster brother or blood brother?”
“Blood brother, but a brother is a brother.” Her voice drops. “We’ve been separated.”
“I’m sorry. That sucks. When’s the last time you saw him?”
“A few days ago.”
“Are you able to visit him frequently?”
“Not anymore.” Her shoulders deflate. She grabs a card from the basket and walks to the far side of the tree to hang it.
I grab a handful of cards from the basket and make my way up the ladder. We work in silence for several minutes until her laugh fills the sanctuary, a little more carefree than before.
“Here’s a good one for you.” She clears her throat. “‘Dear Jesus, I pray that I’ll have an unlimited supply of bacon under my tree on Christmas morning. Love, Elliott.”
“Elliott’s got the right idea. I love me some bacon.”
I flip the card I’m hanging to read the prayer request. It’s a typical request praying for good health in the new year. Extending my arm as far as it w
ill reach, I place the card about six inches from the top of the tree and read over the next one. “This is what my brother should’ve asked for. ‘I pray that I’ll stop wetting the bed next year so my mom will stop taking the Lord’s name in vain every morning.’”
“Milo hasn’t wet the bed in two years. I’m super proud of him.” A rainbow of light from the stained glass highlights the downturn of her full lips. She pauses and stares at the window.
“Bray, are you okay?”
She nods. “I’m fine.”
“You don’t seem fine.”
“I’m fine,” she says with force. She slips out of view.
Several minutes pass in silence. I read all the cards I hang in hopes of finding a funny one to share and lighten the mood. Finally, the last card I have before climbing down the ladder for a refill is in a little girl’s messy handwriting.
“Lordy Lord. That’s what my dad calls you. ‘Lordy Lord, take this pain in my knee away,’ he says all the time. So, my first prayer is to take my dad’s knee pain away because my grandma tells me you should always ask for something for someone else before you ask for something for yourself. Since I did my good deed, I pray for a roller coaster in my backyard that makes a stop at a Chick-fil-A that serves free food. Oh, and River Rock from my favorite music group is my permanent riding partner on the coaster. Because he’s hot and all. And he never stops singing all his love songs to me. Thank you very much, Amber.”
Bray peeks around the tree and looks up. “Coasters, chicken sandwiches, and a guy who sings like a girl. Sign me up.” She rolls her eyes with a smile.
I make my way down the ladder for a new stack of cards. I wish this tree wasn’t so damn tall. I’d rather be on the ground with Bray than hanging off the ladder.
With a new stack of cards in hand, I push the ladder towards the center of the tree. This new position allows me to see her no matter where she’s at.
The time flies. When the dinner bell rings, we have over half the cards on the tree. We should get out of here by seven if we eat a quick bite.
The church community center is filled with tables and chairs. The buffet is full of meatloaf, macaroni and cheese, and tons of other sides that I won’t eat. My mom’s voice saying eat your vegetables cons me into spooning green beans onto my paper plate. Bray’s plate is covered in all the offerings.
A large number of people join us, including a few students from Merryville High who are also performing some random tasks around the church. I don’t recognize most of the non-students. Bray waves at several of my unknowns.
When we make our way back to the sanctuary, we continue our task in silence. The few times I speak, Bray seems a million miles away. I guess the breakup is hard on her. I feel guilty for my desire to ask her out. I’ll give her time before I walk down that path.
Bray reads a card then frowns. “Do you believe in God?” She places it on the tree with the picture side facing out.
I hang my last card and make my way down the ladder. “Yeah?” I say, squinting my eyes.
She smirks. “Are you asking me if you believe in God?”
“No, I mean, I believe in God. I’ve gone to this church my entire life. Doesn’t everyone here believe in God?”
She scoffs. “You’re kidding, right?”
“Then what are all these people doing in a church? I counted over fifty people eating dinner in the community center.”
“Do you think the homeless have faith in God?”
“I don’t know.” I rub my chin. “I’ve never thought about it. Do you believe in God?”
“With the life I’ve had, it’s hard to have faith in a greater power.” She holds up a prayer card with a picture of a manger with a bright star shaped like an angel above. “Last one.”
She flips it over and reads the prayer. Her face drops as she attempts to hang it on the tree. It falls to the ground like a feather floating through the air.
“I’m not feeling so great. I guess I ate too much. I’ll see you later.” She runs out of the sanctuary.
I pick up the card and hang it on the tree. It says,
“Dear Heavenly Father, Thank you for your many blessings you have bestowed upon us. We pray to you that a child will come along for us to adopt. Your Servants, Ethan and Bailey Goodwin.”
Hey, I know them. Ethan is my dad’s producer.
Chapter 22
I run to the bathroom and vomit. After this morning’s sermon, I asked God to give me a sign to prove He’s real. Then I got the job, came home, considered my dreams, and came to the conclusion that adoption is an option.
The kids in my dreams weren’t real, but the realization that half of the DNA I’m carrying is mine made me think maybe I could stay pregnant. Then I opened that card, and my body got tingles, like static. The same day I decide adoption is a possibility, I get asked to hang prayers and happen to read the one I could answer.
Anyone else might be delighted, but I just feel sick. Like all that’s happened to me was orchestrated to get me here to see that card and give them my baby. Sure, that’s God’s plan for them, but why did He have to rope me into it? If it had to be me, He should’ve had Sebastian knock me up.
Sebastian. I wonder how he’s dealing with the breakup. It must’ve seemed sudden for him, but if I’m honest with myself, I knew we could never be end game.
I guess I should get on one of the computers to check in with him, or I could just ask Zain.
After rinsing my mouth, I find Zain warming his car. I knock on his window. He tilts his head to the passenger seat.
“Need a ride home?” he asks when I get in.
“No, I just wanted to say thanks.”
“For?”
“Treating me the same.”
He frowns. “What do you mean?”
“I thought you might not want to be friends since I broke up with Sebastian.”
“You broke up with him?” A slight smile forms on his face.
“Girls do break up with guys sometimes.”
“I know,” he says. “But Sebastian’s been telling everyone he dumped you. I’m glad it’s the other way around. It explains why he’s being a douche.”
“Should I be worried about him? I kind of sprung it on him without warning.”
Zain shakes his head, grinning. “You’re so sweet. He bashes you all over the internet and abandons your friendship, and you’re worried about him.”
“I haven’t been on social media for a while. Too many other things happening.”
“I still think you’re sweet.”
Zain, sitting here with me, making me smile. Not for a second doubting who I am.
“I think you’re sweet,” I say, touching his hand.
It’s meant to be a friendly gesture, but he covers mine with his before I can take it back. Our eyes meet, and his breath fogs. For a moment, I think of all the ways I could warm him up and then all the reasons I can’t.
I lower my head and start crying. The pregnancy hormones have taken over, and I have zero control of my emotions.
He closes the distance between us and wraps me in his arms, holding my head against his puffy coat. He smooths my hair and rocks me just a little as I breathe in his woodsy scent.
“It’s okay,” he says. “I’m here for you, and I’m not going anywhere.”
“I’m a mess.”
“Is it wrong for me to say you’re gorgeous when you cry?”
I suck up my tears and swat him. “You’re ridiculous.”
He wipes a tear from my cheek with his thumb, and we’re back to staring. “I’m honest.”
My stomach flips, and I can feel my chest palpitating. I want him. Wrong or not. “Zain?”
“Yeah?”
“Don’t let me do something stupid.”
“Like what?”
Fall
in love with you. My eyes look at his lips and back to his eyes. He closes the distance again. His chest moves faster as he touches my face.
“I’m thinking of a thousand things I want to do right now,” he says, “and none of them are stupid.”
“Name one.”
He leans in and kisses my cheek. I hold him to me, trying to tell him I want more. His nose touches mine. My lips buzz at the feel of his breath. We stare at each other, seeing who will cave first.
I shouldn’t. I can’t. He doesn’t want to date a pregnant girl. If I keep the baby, I’ll start showing. Everyone will know. And if he chooses to be with me, they’d think he’s the father, and it’d be too hard for me to deny it.
“Your car’s warm.” I hear giggling outside the car. “I should go,” I say, letting go and grabbing the door handle.
“Will I see you at school tomorrow?” he asks.
“No, I’m exempt from finals.”
“Yeah. I got out of a few.”
I climb out of his car, but I really don’t want to leave. Being in his arms is the only thing that gives me comfort right now. “Are you coming back?”
Zain nods. “Dad’s making me volunteer. You?”
“Maybe.”
Giggling girls chase each other through the parking lot. One of them looks like Farren, but she wasn’t volunteering, so it can’t be. “You’ve got to help me find some nice girl friends when school starts back. You and Theo are great, but now that Sebastian and I are over, it’d be good for me to have options. I don’t want to make things awkward.”
“It wouldn’t be awkward, but okay,” he says. “I still want to hang out with you. Maybe tomorrow? I’m grounded, but I can volunteer.”
“I have a party.”
“And you think you don’t have friends?”
“I’m helping cater it.”
“Ah, well, sometime then. Still have my number?”
I nod. I never used it for more than seeing if Sebastian was at his house or if Zain could give me a ride when Sebastian wasn’t available, but I know it by heart.
“Call me. I get bored on house arrest.”
“I’ll consider it.”
Unwrap My Heart Page 8