Finally, after we had all scraped our plates clean of the divine food, Winnie asked if we would mind beginning the interview. They had succeeded in putting me completely at ease and I was happy to begin.
“Do you mind if we discuss it over dessert?” I asked. “There was a triple chocolate decadent cake, layered with mousse, that I would love to try.”
“I’ll share it with you,” Sam agreed. The others ordered coffee, declaring themselves simply too stuffed to indulge in another thing for the evening.
Dessert was brought to the table. It was out of this world in flavors and the mousse might have been fluffier than the pillows on my bed. And so, we began the interview.
“We want to thank you very much for all the money your bakery raised for Breaking Chains. A little birdy told me you donated fifty percent of your profits to this cause the last few weeks?”
My cheeks warmed with embarrassment.
“Yes, sir.” Sam said, “Piper and I agreed it would be wonderful to win, but we didn’t really expect to since ours is a fairly new business compared to those who have been established here for generations. However, more than that, we agreed that every bit we could afford to give to this mission was more than worth it.”
“We decided to think big,” I added. “We brainstormed ways to draw in more customers; anything from the dessert of the week samples to calling in at the city and offering a ten percent discount to allow us to cater events; we even set up snack stands at some of the beach volleyball games. When we saw it was working, more business was flowing in, we also made signs and put a donation box in the bakery itself.”
“That’s right,” Sam picked up. “And people were more than generous. We took down the tip jar and asked them to give solely to the fundraiser. We couldn’t have raised the money without so many extraordinary, generous members of our community.”
Winnie nodded after she finished writing and asked, “Piper, did Sam know about your friend Landon when you both agreed to raise money for Breaking Chains?”
I shook my head, “No. I have never really talked about it. And that is the real problem. Nobody talks about it when things like that happen. Nobody wants to admit it is possible because that’s scary. And nobody wants to admit it happens even where they live because that is embarrassing and would require someone to take responsibility for it.”
I sipped my unsweet tea before continuing. “I thought the fundraiser would be enough. That it would make me feel good for helping. And it did, but not completely. That was when I realized I needed to talk about it. Not to feel better, or unburden me, but to encourage others to talk about it too. To make it real and not allow it to be another opportunity to toss money at something and move on.”
“Can you tell us more about how your friend Landon was successfully recovered? Were police looking for him?”
“I didn’t understand a lot of this until I got older. The information is out there, but only if you are looking for it in most cases. To answer your questions, the police had given up the search for Landon months earlier. The body of one of the girls abducted with him was found in a dumpster. She had obviously been raped; her death was from a head injury. My parents told me this when I was a teenager.”
“Oh Piper,” Sam placed a supportive hand on my shoulder.
“The police got a tip about a house with ‘lots of young punks’ coming in and out. The caller also said the windows were boarded over and that a van frequently backed into the carport, up to the door, and nothing that was unloaded could be seen. Trash bags were taped inside the door windows so that you couldn’t see in from the street. These are often a few of the signs of houses with drugs or prostitution rings being run out of them so the police sent a team to check it out.”
“Really?” Winnie seemed quite blown away by all the information. She appeared to realize she had forgotten to take notes and furiously scribbled into her notebook giving me a few moments of reprieve. Sam and I ate a few more bites of the chocolate cake while we waited for Winnie’s pen to take another break.
“Of course, sometimes a boarded-up window is just that – a broken window someone couldn’t afford to replace. There are so many things that make human trafficking hard for law enforcement to pinpoint, or sometimes even identify as the real crime in a given situation.”
“Can you explain what you mean?” Pastor Dan asked, tilting his head to the side in a quizzical manner.
“I can try. Take prostitution, for example, obviously, commercial sex is a crime. So often though, teens engaged in commercial sex were either forced, threatened or manipulated in a way that they never found any other choice. A pimp may find a runaway on the street and offer food and protection in exchange for services, or they might dose a kidnapped boy or girl with drugs consistently to get them addicted and when their body screams out in withdrawal the pimp offers a solution: sex with some new people for a fix. There are so many times that the person caught is a victim, but receives full punishment, while the traffickers and controllers themselves just replace them with fresh inventory and keep operating business as usual.”
My emotions were getting stirred up, I took a sip of my tea to cool down. “Landon and children like him don’t want to do bad things. Unfortunately, most of them also don’t know how to get home, they can’t work to provide food for themselves if they did escape, and often the fear of beatings or starvation keep them in line doing whatever they are asked to do in order to survive. Landon was blessed to be rescued. Many aren’t.”
“I’m sorry to ask this, but what about individuals rescued from that type of situation who, years later, are found to be right back in it? Are you saying they are still victims?” Winnie asked, but she seemed genuinely trying to sort through it, not judgmental or sarcastic.
“Once you have been in that life for a long time, I think it would be hard to fight through the fear, the shame, the guilt and the worthlessness that was pressed upon you, so yes, some may embrace it as they get older. They embrace it to numb themselves, an emotional survival decision is just as real as physical survival.” I sighed, emotionally exhausted, “I don’t know how to help people like that, just like I had no idea how to help my childhood friend who had been exposed to situations I couldn’t even imagine. That is why it is so important to support organizations like Breaking Chains who are better prepared to provide the counseling and services for many aspects of human trafficking victims, and why it is important to raise awareness and open our hearts to understanding. A lot more goes on than the caption our mind writes for the picture we think we see.”
Pastor Dan placed his hands over mine, “Piper, thank you for sharing. And Sam, thank you both for what your business did to join with us in this mission. Each of the businesses that participated has made a huge impact for Breaking Chains and I can only guess at how far God will use those proceeds to provide help for the men, women, and children entrapped in this modern-day slavery.”
I pushed the last few bites of cake away, my thoughts too heavy to eat any more.
NINE
I awoke the next day feeling renewed after an extra-long night’s sleep; Sam, Gladys and I had agreed to turn in early after such a long and eventful first day.
Lying in bed wondering whether or not Sam or Gladys would be awake yet, I was surprised to hear a muffled knock on the sitting room door. I slipped my robe on over my Wonder Woman pajamas and opened the door to my suite. Gladys was ushering in Lola, the bearer of a silver tray laden with mouth-watering goodies.
“Room service,” Gladys swept her hand toward the coffee table as Lola set everything out including glasses of orange juice and water.
Sam’s door swung open. “Do I smell bacon?”
“Not if I get to it first,” I joked.
“Don’t you dare,” she shrieked, sprinting across the room. “I’ll send Griff pictures of you in those pajamas if you don’t hand over the bacon.”
I dropped the bacon back onto the platter as if it burnt me. Sam snickered and I m
entally kicked myself, why did I care what Griff thought of my sleepwear anyway.
“You two are such a hoot,” Gladys gave a barking laugh. “Makes me wish Harold and I had children of our own.”
Sam tossed me half a piece of bacon, smirking. We enjoyed a leisurely breakfast and chatted about what we should choose for our spa treatments today.
“I think we should do a little less today,” I told them. “That much relaxing nearly wore me out!”
Sam rolled her eyes, but I know my best friend loves me so I just threw toast at her and let it go.
“Thanks for ordering breakfast by the way Gladys,” Sam said.
“Yes, definitely. Sam, we may have to think about adding these walnut and honey donuts to our menu. Maybe we can turn them into Walnut and Honey Donut Hole Clusters?”
“Mmmmhmmm,” Gladys mumbled around a mouthful.
“Okay, so doing less today. We had five total treatments yesterday. What do you two say to four today – two in the morning and two after lunch?” Sam asked.
“Perfect,” I told her.
“I’m happy with that,” Gladys agreed easily, “in fact there is only one I’m curious about and you girls can pick the other three.”
“Which do you want to do?” I asked Gladys as I snagged several menus and propped my feet on the arm of my chair.
“The seaweed wraps.”
I choked on a forkful of scrambled eggs. “I’m sorry, the what?” Surely, she was joking. Right. Please let her be joking. What do they wrap in seaweed anyway?
“The seaweed wraps,” Gladys repeated. “I’ve never heard of one before and I want to try it.”
“What the heck do they wrap in seaweed?” I asked out loud.
“Oh boy,” Sam rolled her head backward and stared at the ceiling. I bet she was counting again. Sitting back up she rolled her shoulders, “Okay so a seaweed wrap it is. Piper, any requests?”
“Yes, actually,” I skimmed down the list. “What about Yoga for Flexibility? We’ve always talked about taking a yoga class but never have.”
“Seaweed wraps and yoga, it is. Followed by lunch and a deep tissue massage then on to bejeweled nails.”
“We just did our toes yesterday,” I pointed out.
“Today we will do fingers!” Sam clapped her already manicured nails. How she keeps them so nice working in the bakery I have no idea.
“What is bejeweled?” Gladys asked. Finally, something I wasn’t the only person out of the know on.
“Bejeweled means they will glue little fake jewels and colored pieces onto our nails. You can make designs or just have one on each nail – whatever you want really.” Sam explained.
“Since we’ve decided, I guess I can ring Jill to place our order and get a schedule approved for today.” Swinging my legs off of the chair, I slid my feet into the cozy slippers and went to the intercom, which thankfully this time didn’t go off right as I got to it. Pushing the button, I spoke clearly, “Jill, this is Piper.”
“Yes, Piper, I know,” her light laughter fizzled in through the intercom.
“Oh. Okay. Well, we’re ready to order. Our treatments. We are ready to order our spa treatments. We already ordered breakfast.” I leaned my head against the wall while Sam fell onto the floor laughing.
“I’ll be right there,” Jill spoke sounding suspiciously like she was snorting back laughter of her own.
“Look,” I glared at Sam, “it is just too weird ordering people around through a button.”
“Why?” she asked wide-eyed. “You do it all the time when you go through the Baskin Robbin’s drive-thru.” I snatched up the throw pillow nearest the fireplace and tossed it at her head.
Jill rapped quickly on the door and entered without waiting for an answer. “Lola is on the way, but I’m afraid Margarite has been given the rest of the week off Samantha. Broussard is in a fit trying to find you ‘a personal assistant suitable to your personal self’ though, so I’m sure you will have someone soon.” Her stuffy and straight-faced impersonation of Broussard had us each cracking up until Lola came in through the cracked door.
“What in the world did you all have for breakfast,” she asked, “because I want some.”
~
We polished off the breakfast tray while Jill and Lola took care of scheduling our appointments for the day. After they had returned and given us the official greenlight for our treatments - 9 AM Seaweed Wrap, 11 AM Yoga, 1 PM Lunch, 3:30 PM Deep Tissue Massage, and 5:00 PM Bejeweled Nail Session – we separated to our suites to dress, or undress basically, for the first one.
“Wear something skimpy,” Sam tossed out over her shoulder as she entered her suite. “The seaweed wrap is full body.” She shut the door with a giggle while I stood, mouth gaping, trying to wrap my mind around the thought of seaweed wrapping my body. All I could picture was feeling like a sushi roll, which was not my idea of a good time. If I’m being honest, sushi isn’t even my idea of real food.
Gladys was ecstatic, “Oh I wonder if some handsome boy will be wrapping us!”
Bang, another door shut and I’m still standing here gaping like a fish. Seaweed was definitely not one of the things I planned to wear while I’d been on my accidental rant with Griff. And why was that even crossing my mind now. With a sinking feeling that this is going to shape up into another long day, I spin on my heel and march to my own suite.
Just as suspected, the bikini I wore yesterday, which happens to be both my only and skimpiest article of clothing suitable for being wrapped in seaweed, is still damp from yesterday’s activities. I could borrow one of Sam’s since we are similar in size, but honestly, I worry about what exactly she would lend me. Damp and uncomfortable it is. So, having tugged and pulled the wet fabric into place I throw on my robe and slippers, check my phone and toss it onto the bed, then return to the sitting room to read a few more food magazines while I wait for the others to be ready.
At eight forty-five Jill, Lola, and a particularly Broussard-like woman – no really, she even looked down her nose at me and sniffed in a similar fashion – appeared to “collect” us. The more they said it, the more I wanted to ask if they planned to stuff us and put us on a shelf.
“Miss Lowe,” the new woman curtsied. She straight up curtsied! “I will be your temporary assistant until my brother is able to find someone of quality to be of service. I am Cynthia”
Ah, that explained it. She was Broussard’s sister. I silently congratulated myself on catching the family resemblance so quickly, while at the same time wondering where the spa dug these people up. Surely, they would have been more at home butler-ing in a castle or something for “worthwhile” people in England than here in Seashell Bay where Americans were not respectful enough to keep the classes separate as obviously preferred by these two.
“Thank you. I assure you I don’t require that much assistance actually.” Sam’s voice broke into my thoughts as she continued, “Please, tell your brother not to trouble himself on my behalf.”
“It is on behalf of your mother, of course. We can’t afford to lose our jobs,” Sam tried to protest but Cynthia kept right on talking. “So, if you please, come with me. I need to escort you to your seaweed wrap so that you will not miss a moment of it.”
Sam belted her robe, shrugged to me and Gladys and trailed behind Cynthia.
“Wow,” I said to the room at large.
“Yes,” Jill agreed. “Now are you ladies ready as well?”
Nodding, we made our way past the changing rooms and turned left down the hallway opposite of the nail salon. There we entered the room specifically set aside for seaweed wraps; I had noticed it yesterday but hadn’t expected to subject myself to one. Still, here we were.
The inside of the room was painted in dark blues, grays, and greens. Dim lighting glowed from eight small can lights in the ceiling. One whole wall was an undersea kelp garden mural, beautifully depicted in vivid detail. The stalks fluidly bent as water weaved around them in the shadowy depths of the s
ea. It almost seemed to sway with the current. If you looked closely, just a few small fish had been added, darting in between the plants. I imagined they were playing a game of tag.
My admiration of the mural was interrupted when Jan, the aesthetician from yesterday’s facial treatment incident, stepped between me and the mural. “Good morning ladies,” she greeted us. Thankfully, her nose looked fine, not even a bandage. I was happy I hadn’t actually hurt her.
“Morning Jan,” Sam said. “These ladies have never had a seaweed wrap before,” she murmured with a wink.
“Wonderful! You are going to love it,” Jan told us. “Today the rest of the staff is back as well. This is Chloe and Rose.”
I noticed Jan stayed on the opposite side of the room from me. Chloe was appointed to me. Each of the ladies pulled a large bowl off of the cabinet behind them. Goo, always more goo at this place.
Gladys must have been thinking the same thing, “Where’s all the seaweed?” she asked crinkling her nose at the mixture Rose was bringing closer to her.
Jan snorted, actually snorted. “We don’t actually wrap you in whole seaweed. Can you imagine, it would be falling off all over the place!”
Chloe took over the explanation, raising up the bowl she carried. “The seaweed is turned to a paste so that it maintains its rich array of sea salt, vitamins, iodine, and potassium. This paste is applied to your whole body.”
“Then,” Sam said, “they wrap us in towels and we lay in the dry sauna.”
“This way,” I whipped my head back to Jan who picked up the conversation, “your body is able to quickly and efficiently sweat out the impurities that the seaweed helps draw to the surface as the seaweed also loosens up dead skin cells.”
“When you are all done,” said Chloe, “you will shower off and come back here for a moisturizer to finalize your treatment.”
“Don’t forget the juice,” Rose piped up for the first time, in a quiet voice.
Rest, Relax, Run for Your Life Page 7