by LK Shaw
Chapter 11
I hadn’t been able to hide my surprise at Shoshana’s phone call. She’d been so sure that Charity would never agree to talk to someone. I was glad for it though. Her worry had been deep and genuine, so the fact that she called was telling. I felt a tad bit guilty for volunteering Spencer without checking with her first, but I was confident she would be a strong advocate for Charity.
“You’ve been distracted lately. Everything all right?”
I glanced over at Pablo. He’d been my outside contact during my undercover stint within Los Lobos, and while we didn’t always get along, he was a good cop. He used to be a thrill seeker, like me, until he’d taken a bullet during a drug raid about nine months ago. Since then he’d become a bit too by-the-book for my taste, which was why I couldn’t tell him about Charity.
“Of course,” I assured him. “Just been thinking about this smoking hot chick I met the other day, and how long it’ll take me to get her in the sack.”
“You never change, do you?” he chuckled.
“Why change perfection?” I volleyed back with a smooth, practiced grin.
“Do you even hear yourself? I mean do you truly listen to the words that come out of your mouth?”
“Of course I do. It’s not my fault I have the confidence in myself that you lack. I know exactly who I am and make no apologies for it,” I told him.
Pablo leaned back in his chair and stared at me. “There’s a fine line between confidence and conceit, Oliver, and you are about a hundred steps on the wrong side of that line.”
I shrugged. His opinion of me didn’t matter.
“One of these days,” he continued, “you’re going to meet a woman you can’t charm into your bed. She’s going to humble you, and I can’t wait to see it happen.”
I barked out a laugh. “Never gonna happen, man. Women are all the same. They want to neuter us men and make us their lap dogs. Before we know it, we’re making trips to the grocery store to buy tampons or carrying her purse while we tag along during a shopping trip to the mall. Or worse, we’re asking permission to go meet some buddies for a beer or two after work. No fucking thank you.”
He scoffed. “Is that seriously what you think relationships are all about? How about affection? Tenderness? Coming home from a rough day at work and having someone there you can talk to, who listens to what you have to say, and then wraps her arms around you to make you feel better? What about love?”
“Man, you are such a sucker.” I laughed bitterly. “Love doesn’t exist. It’s some fairy tale that women create in order to play games. They do nothing but take, and when they’re done taking, they leave. That shit isn’t happening to me. I’ll be the one taking and the one leaving. Every woman I’ve been with knows where I stand, so they can’t come crying when they get exactly what I told them they’d get.”
Pablo shook his head, and the expression on his face wasn’t one I’d seen directed my way before. He rose to his feet and stared down at me. “You know, I used to envy you. You are everything I thought I wanted to be. At least until I met Michele. If that’s really how you feel though, then I pity you.”
With that, he turned and walked out of the squad room, leaving me in stunned silence with an ugly and heavy weight pitted deep inside my gut.
“You owe me, you know that, right?” Spencer said with the slightest bit of glee.
“I’m sure I’m going to regret asking you to do this,” I replied.
No doubt she was going to milk this for as long as she could. Especially since she was one to hold a grudge, and she was still pissed at me for putting an end to our short, but red-hot affair. Pablo’s words came back to me, but I shook them off.
Every woman I’d ever been with thought they could change me. Their failure to do so wasn’t my fault. Since they refused to get mad at themselves, even though I’d made my feelings known prior to any affair I began, they made me the target of their anger. Not my problem.
I’d never made promises to any woman. Ever. For them to get angry at me for ending things, like Spencer, just annoyed the shit out of me.
“I’m going to enjoy this way too much, I’m afraid.” She was practically wringing her hands in evil anticipation.
I’d let her have her little fun at my expense. If it meant she’d help Charity, then I’d take whatever she dished out.
“Do your worst.” I shrugged off her attempt at deviousness. “Just so long as you go see Charity by tomorrow morning.”
Spencer’s gaze zeroed in on me. “You seem awfully concerned about this woman.”
“I was the one who found her. Saw what they’d done to her. To those other women. It was terrible. No one deserves that. She’s struggling, and I know that you’ll be good for her. I’m not a complete asshole.”
She snorted as though in disagreement, but then her features softened. “I’m sorry for the things she went through, and I’ll do my best to help her, in any way I can.”
“Thanks, Spencer. I really do appreciate it,” I said.
“I plan on getting my pound of flesh from you, but I’m not doing this for you. I’m doing it for her.”
“Either way, thank you.”
Spencer continued staring at me, her head slightly cocked as though I was a puzzle to solve, and I struggled not to squirm in my seat like a recalcitrant child. I didn’t like the way she kept looking at me. As though she could see deep down inside me and was trying to figure something out. There was nothing to figure out. I was exactly how everyone saw me. Like I’d told Pablo, I knew who I was and made no apologies for it. I also made sure others knew exactly what they were getting, so there were no surprises.
She didn’t say anything further, just made a weird hmm sound, and then she rose from the chair, and with only a final glance over her shoulder at me, left me alone in the conference room. I remained sitting there for several minutes thinking about how Spencer would torture me and wondering if maybe I deserved it after all.
Chapter 12
“Yo, Charity, you have a visitor,” someone called from the front.
I dog-eared the page I’d been reading and laid my book on the bed before heading out to see who was here. My steps slowed when I saw the female officer at the front desk. Holy shit. I wasn’t sexually attracted to women, but I could certainly appreciate a beautiful one, and this lady was absolutely gorgeous.
She had that sexy, ‘50s pinup hourglass figure some women would kill for. Her generously sized boobs were perky, but not so much that they looked fake, although maybe they were. The belt around her waist not only emphasized how small it was but also highlighted the swooping curves of her hips. I’d bet anything she also had a rocking ass.
I couldn’t help but compare my own not-even-a-handful-sized tits and my near stick-figure as well as my flat ass to her…assets and come up woefully lacking. Her champagne blonde hair was slicked back into a high ponytail with not a single wisp or strand escaping nor a split end in sight. My raggedy hair that hadn’t seen a stylist in more years than I could count nearly cried at the unfairness of it. An irrational urge to pop her in her flawless face with that smile full of straight, blindingly white teeth surged through me.
Was this the co-worker Oliver sent to talk to me? It had to be. Was she the kind of woman he was attracted to? Damn it, why did I even care?
“Hi, I’m Yvonne,” she said, her voice had that husky tone that made me think she’d be an excellent phone sex operator.
“Charity.”
“It’s a pleasure to meet you,” she said, her smile never dimming. I already hated her. She was too smiley. Too nice. Too…everything.
“So I guess you’re here to talk to me,” I said begrudgingly.
“Only if you want to. Or we can just sit together, either in here or out in the courtyard. It’s a beautiful day outside. There’s a nice breeze blowing in the scent of the lake. Although on second thought, that might not be a good thing.” Her tinkling laughter followed and even that was fucking perfe
ct.
I actually loved the smell of Lake Michigan. It was comforting and reminded me how much I adored the city. Chicago was the only home I’d ever known, and I wouldn’t want to live anywhere else.
“We can go outside.” I didn’t really want to, but if she hated the smell of the lake, then I’d make myself sit out there. God, I was being such a bitch.
“Wonderful. I’ll let you lead the way,” she said.
The Marilyn Monroe lookalike followed me through the shelter and out the back door to the courtyard. A privacy fence surrounded the cement patio, where several picnic tables and two round wooden tables with an umbrella stuck through the center were scattered.
I led blondie to a table in the far corner. No sense giving the gossips around the place any fuel. With perfect grace she slid onto the seat, her posture upright and head straight. It reminded me of this movie I watched once where these teenage girls were stuck in some old boarding school and forced to walk around with a book on their head. They got slapped with a ruler if they let it fall off. I caught myself mimicking her pose and then forced myself to slouch.
We sat quietly, making it clear she’d been telling the truth about just sitting together. She didn’t prod or urge me to speak, which was probably her strategy, because if there was one thing I hated, it was silence. I always felt the need to fill it. Damn her.
“I suppose Oliver told you what happened to me,” I started.
“He told me his version of what happened to you,” she said.
That made me blink. “I’m not sure what you mean.”
“No offense to Oliver, but he has only an outsider’s view of your situation. He might have shared what he saw. The things he witnessed or heard. But beyond that, he doesn’t know shit. He’s not the one who lived through what those bastards did. That was you. Which means that you are the only one who truly knows what happened. No one else, especially a man, can even begin to tell another person what happened to you, because they don’t have a fucking clue.”
Why did she have to say something like that? Be so understanding? Why did she have to be right?
“I thought I was going to die,” I whispered, the words escaping before I could stop them. “I screamed and fought, but it was useless. I was useless. Then, after the second day, I’d wished I had died.”
“There’s nothing worse than feeling powerless.”
Something in the way Yvonne spoke made me glance at her. She wasn’t looking at me, but then she turned and our eyes met. For the first time, her smile was smaller, sadder. Her expression said it all. Instant regret filled me for all the shit I thought about her.
Maybe she actually could help me.
“Thank you for speaking with me. I know how difficult it is,” Yvonne said.
I’d lost track of how long we’d been out here, but based on the movement of the sun, several hours had passed. I’d had to open the umbrella, because we’d both gotten too warm.
“I think that’s always been part of my problem when talking to the endless number of shrinks I’ve had. None of them could actually relate to me or my problems. They all tried to ‘fix’ me, but in reality, they couldn’t understand what I was going through,” I told her.
Yvonne nodded. “It took me a long time to find someone I felt really understood what I was going through. She was another woman in a group counseling session I’d been forced to attend. Wasn’t even a therapist, but another survivor. If not for her, I would still probably be that scared, fearful young woman who screamed through her nightly terrors. Women like you and me”—she gestured between us—“we’re survivors.”
“No one’s ever called me a survivor before.” My entire life everyone had painted me as this tragic victim. First my mother’s, then my grandmother’s, and then society’s.
“Fuck those people. Anyone who has gone through what you have is a survivor. Despite the fear, the anxiety, or the pain, you still get up and face the day, even when all you want to do is bury your head under the covers. You refuse to let them beat you.”
“I feel like they’re winning. This is the longest I’ve been outside in nearly two weeks. I was supposed to start looking for a new job, and I haven’t, because I can’t seem to find the strength to walk out that front door.” I was ashamed to admit that.
“Would you like to try?” she offered.
I froze. “Like, right now?”
“Yes. Right now. With me. We don’t have to go far. But even making it out the front door is farther than you’ve been, and that’s something to be proud of. So, you and me, we’ll walk out that front door with our heads held high. We’ll send a metaphorical middle finger and a giant fuck you to those who tried to beat us. Harness that anger you have inside and make it work for you.”
A sudden swell of confidence hit me at her words. I’d never really let my anger out. I kept it bottled inside because it was too loud. Too much. It escaped on occasion, but then I forced myself to reel it in. But Yvonne seemed to be giving me permission to embrace the rage I felt.
I pushed back from the table and rose from my chair so quick it nearly tipped backwards. My shoulders straightened, and I met her eyes with a fierce determination. That full, toothy smile appeared on her face again, and this time, I returned it. She stood, and side by side, we strode across the courtyard until she held back and I entered the shelter first. Then we made our way through the building toward the front door.
Several pairs of eyes followed our movements, but my stare was focused on the glass in front of me. Without pause, I pushed it open, and for the first time since Oliver dropped me off here, I walked out the front door. I didn’t stop there. With Yvonne at my side, I kept walking. All the way down the forecourt until we reached the sidewalk. Finally, I stopped and just stood there with my eyes closed, breathing in the fresh air, the hint of Lake Michigan still present.
Tears leaked from them, but they were the cleansing kind. The kind that washed away all the fear and anxiety inside me. I opened them again and turned to glance at Yvonne, who gave me an encouraging nod. Filling my lungs with oxygen, I tilted my head up to the blue, cloudless sky, clenched my fists, and screamed at the top of my lungs.
“Fuck you!”
Chapter 13
For the second time in as many weeks I found myself stepping into Franklin’s Boxing Club. Before the whole Brandy fiasco, I’d been working out here four to five times a week. I’d missed it. Despite the raucous noise, a sense of peace flowed through my mind.
Inside these walls, there were no distractions by the outside world. My entire focus narrowed to only the opponent opposite me, whether it was another fighter or the hanging sand-filled bag. I could put all my worries aside while I was here. It was freeing and one of the main reasons I’d been a frequent visitor. Sam’s friendship had been a bonus.
I spotted him on the far side of the room with a couple teenage boys. He was demonstrating a few different strikes and blocking moves, gently guiding and correcting their hands in the proper defensive positions. The kids who came in here loved Sam. His patience with them knew no bounds. He was a great teacher. Nearly every kid that walked through these doors left with the knowledge that Sam was proud of all the hard work they put in while they were here. He constantly praised them, which some of these kids didn’t get anywhere else.
He caught my eye and I gave a short wave. I stood off to the side while he finished his instructions before letting the boys spar with each other. He made his way over, still keeping a watchful eye on the two kids on the mat.
“What, no working out this time?” Sam asked. “You’re getting lazy.”
Ignoring his jab, I shook my head. “Not today. I do want to start coming back soon, though.”
He nodded in approval. “Good. You’ve been missed around here. Not by me or anything, but some of the guys have been asking about you.”
I glanced over, and a smirk danced across his lips. “Smartass,” I quipped.
That made him laugh outright. I let him
have his amusement. “So, if you didn’t come in to fight today, what brings you by?”
This was the tricky part. Sam was nothing if not smart. He also had a tendency to look for a deeper meaning for things. It was an unsettling habit of his. He always saw too much.
“I have someone who needs a job. I was hoping you might be able to find something for her to do around here. Keep the equipment organized and tidy. Clean the place up throughout the day wiping down mats and such.”
His eyes narrowed in that searching way of his. “Her?”
I maintained eye contact. “Yes. Her name is Charity. She’s had a rough few weeks and needs a bit of help getting back on her feet.”
That was all I planned on sharing with Sam. If she wanted him to know her business, she could tell him. He could also read more into my request all he wanted, but it didn’t mean anything. She was simply an innocent victim in all this and didn’t deserve to have her life made any more difficult than it currently was because she hadn’t been able to find a new job. Spencer had tried finding her something, but none of her leads had panned out.
Finally, he released me from his stare. “Bring her by tomorrow for an introduction. I’m sure there’s something I can find for her to do.”
I shook his hand. “Thank you, Sam. I really do appreciate it.”
He waved me off. “Don’t worry about it. I know a little something about being in a tough spot. So long as she gets here on time and works hard, then I won’t have any complaints.”
This time I gave him a brief hug, clapping him on the back before I went and told Charity the good news.
“Back for more community relations, I see,” Shoshana greeted me as soon as I walked through the door.
I wasn’t sure how to take that, so I ignored it. “Hello, Shoshana. Is Charity here?”
She smirked. “Of course. Back right corner, cubicle twenty-three.”