Vi watched as the young woman’s cupped hands shook in her lap. She looked thinner, gaunt almost.
Drugs.
Vi knew from her training that the pimps used drug dependency as part of their power and control over the young women.
“Can you tell me about what happened?” Vi asked.
Anjali looked down at her hands.
“We were all of us on our way back from the hotel. A big truck cut us off and there was a terrible crash of metal and squeal of brakes. Many in our van were injured, but not me. The police came, and our driver—the one who was in charge of keeping us together—he was not conscious and could not stop the cops from talking to us.
“The other girls were too frightened to say anything, but I knew if I didn’t take this chance, I would never get away from them. I don’t know who was driving that truck, but I think maybe it was a god sent to protect us, to deliver us to safety.
“So I made my voice quiet and asked the police to arrest me. It was the easiest way I could think to get away, especially since the other girls refused to say anything against them, and I... I was so scared. It was like a strength from outside of me had taken over, that same god who had been behind the wheel of the big truck.
“There was a woman officer and she seemed to catch on faster than the men. She pushed me against the police car and put handcuffs on me. She told them something about drugs and carted me away. She said I didn’t have to talk unless I wanted to, then she brought me here. And I can’t leave, not until it’s time to return home. They will be looking for me. If they suspect... Well, they would kill me. Like they did the last girl who tried to run away.”
Anjali pulled a pack of cigarettes and a lighter out of her pocket and lit up. Her hand continued to shake as she took a long drag. “It’s all my fault. I trusted too easily.” She shivered and spoke under her breath. “I practically invited them to steal me away.”
Vi leaned in closer to the girl, mirroring her body language. “Anjali, what happened to you isn’t your fault.”
“Isn’t it?” She laughed bitterly, then took a long drag of her cigarette. “I was raped so many times that I lost count. Businessmen from all over the world...they...used me like a tissue. If I hadn’t gotten into that car none of that would have happened.”
Vi’s chest tightened at the thought of what Anjali had been through. As a seasoned advocate, she knew the last thing this girl needed was her pity. Instead, she let her body naturally reflect Anjali’s posture back to her. It always amazed her how easily the words and mannerisms came to her in the moment.
“I know you feel responsible for what happened to you, Anjali, but it wasn’t your fault. The men who did this to you, it’s all their fault. They were in the wrong, not you. I am very sorry that you went through this. I want to help you in any way that I can to make sure that you stay safe.”
“I escaped,” she said under her breath. “They don’t like it when girls get away. They’re going to look for me. I’ve made them a lot of money.”
Vi leaned in toward the girl to make sure she caught every word. Her heart ached at the thought of what Anjali had been through.
“How many other girls are there?”
Anjali looked up at Vi. “Enough to make them very rich.” A look of fear washed over her swollen features. “I don’t want to talk to the police. I just want to go home. I can't go back to them. They will kill me.” Tears streamed down her cheeks.
“All right.” Vi handed Anjali a tissue. She hated the idea that there were other girls out there, but she needed to focus on this one who was sitting right before her—that was her job.
“Let's get you settled in at the shelter and call your parents. Have they heard from you since...?” She wasn’t sure how to finish that sentence. Luckily, Anjali didn’t need for her to.
“Yes, every week as a matter of fact. He made me call them—never Skype—to lie. They think I am still in the school. They even sent me a monthly allowance, but he took it every time.”
Vi stood at the door. “You don't have to tell them anything you don’t want to.”
“They can’t know. My life will be as good as over. No one will agree to marriage with a girl who...” Her sentence broke apart into a fit of sobs.
“We're going to take this a step at a time. First let's get you some clean clothes and a room. Okay?”
Anjali nodded, swiping at the corners of her eyes with the crumpled tissue.
It took Vi a whole shift to get Anjali situated at the shelter and to call her family. They seemed happy to hear from her, but voiced their extreme displeasure in her request to come back home.
Vi wanted to intervene, but Anjali held her finger to her lips and shook her head. By the end of the call, they had agreed to purchase Anjali a ticket to come home for a week in October for her cousin’s marriage festivities. Although it was still a month away, at least it would be a start.
Vi trembled the whole drive home. The pressure of keeping it together proved almost too much. When she pulled up to her home she saw a familiar truck parked in front.
Ricky. What is he doing here?
She watched in her rearview mirror as he walked toward her car. Vi got out and slammed her door shut.
“Ricky?”
His eyes narrowed in a look of concern. When his large hand touched her arm, the last of her resolve crumbled. Ricky reeled her in and held her up against his broad chest. The familiar beat of his heart grounded her.
A sigh escaped her lips as he combed his fingers through her hair and tipped her face up to his. She didn’t even bother to try and stop him when he dipped down to kiss her. It had been too long. Seven years too long.
Vi wrapped her arms around his neck. She needed to feel loved, alive. Especially after the day she’d just been though.
Ricky pulled away, his thoughtful eyes examining hers.
“Hey,” he said, rubbing slow circles over her back with the tips of his fingers. “What’s wrong?”
Vi fought the urge to let him back into her life. The loneliness she felt was palpable. “No sé,” she said.
“Don’t know or don’t want to talk about it?” he asked with a knowing smile.
“Both.” She returned his smile with a lopsided one of her own.
When they had broken up all those years ago, she had said it was because she needed to focus on caring for Joy. Each passing year it became harder to keep him at arm's length. It didn’t help that he never fully left her life. It had been almost seven years since they’d broken up, but he still hung around like he was waiting for her to change her mind. Even when he was gone for months on end to various rodeos, he would send her postcards or trinkets for Joy.
“I just had a bad day. I’ll be fine, Ricky.”
A sad smile floated across his face. “Fine?” he repeated under his breath, then reached up to push her hair behind her ears. “I miss you, Violeta.”
His words strummed the chords of her heart. I miss you too, she wanted to say. But she loved him too much to pull him back into the everyday hell that was her life. Ricky deserved so much more than what she could offer.
Of course, before she could utter a word, her phone rang.
Joy, always Joy.
The reality of her situation washed over her and she stepped back to answer her phone.
“What’s wrong, Joy?”
Through the corner of her eye she could see Ricky’s shoulders slump. His beautiful full lips formed a long thin line. But the sound of Joy’s anxious babble brought her back to the present and reminded her once again why she and Ricky just couldn’t be together.
“Joy, the rodeo is Saturday. This is Thursday. I’m not coming tonight.”
She did not have the patience to deal with her today. Not after all she’d already been through.
Ricky swooped in to her rescue and snatched the phone from her hand. “Hey Joy-Joy. Yeah it’s Ricky. I miss you too, Mija. She was sick, huh?” he said, looking straight at Vi with questionin
g eyes. “Yeah, I can watch after her for you. Love you too. I’ll see you in two days, all right? Okay, Joy-Joy, goodnight.”
Ricky ended the call and handed the phone back to her. Before she could say a word he stole a short, sweet kiss from her. “You should get some sleep, too.”
Vi let out a shaky sigh, “Ricky—”
He placed a finger on her lips to silence her. “Goodnight, Violeta.”
“Goodnight, Ricky.”
She knew he wouldn’t leave until she was safe inside so she unlocked her door and went in. As it closed behind her she fell back against it.
I will not cry; I will not cry.
Chapter Fifteen
Brooke
By the time Brooke woke up the next morning, Brian had gone. He’d meticulously made up his side of the bed even though her half of the covers were still wrapped into a tight ball at her knees. On his pillow lay a note written out on Brooke’s own BFF stationary.
Dear Brookey B,
I’m sorry for being such a jealous jerk lately, and especially for last night. It’s just that I love you so much, and I’m so afraid of losing you to some other guy that, sometimes, I forget to treat you like the queen that you are.
I don’t know if you can forgive me, but I’m hoping this fresh breakfast will provide a start. Muffins are on the dresser, Champagne for mimosa is in the fridge. I’ll try to be home early tonight.
Love,
Brian
P.S. Thanks for washing my lucky boxers. You’re the best!
Her husband’s racist outburst the night before was not the first thing Brooke wanted to think about upon waking up, but that was Brian for you—always making things about himself, spinning them to make him look like the good guy. Especially when he wasn’t.
Stop being such a jerk. He’s gone out of his way to make it up to you.
She took a deep cleansing breath and padded over to the dresser to grab one of Mitsy’s famous banana nut muffins—the low cal version, she noticed with a scoff.
Tiara came running into the bedroom, the tiny bell on her collar jingling. “Good morning, Princess Tiara.” Brooke bent down to scratch the little pom between her cute teddy bear ears, then bit down into the muffin with more hunger than she’d realized she had.
The sticky sweet taste of banana turned her stomach, and she had to force the soggy bite down her throat to avoid throwing up. Normally she loved Mitsy’s muffins—of course, she’d never admit that to Mitsy—but something was definitely off about this batch. She thought about feeding the rest of it to Tiara, but what if the muffins made her delicate canine tummy sick, too?
Maybe I’m coming down with something, just like Vi. Crap! Best not to chance the mimosas, even though they sounded so good right about then. She put on a smile for the tiny fluff ball that was watching her with rapt attention.
“What should we wear today, girl, huh?” she asked in a baby voice as she led the way toward her massive walk-in closet.
“Today feels like a day for Marc Jacobs, wouldn’t you agree?” She pulled a flirty sundress from its hanger, hoping its playfulness would help deter whatever ailment was nipping at her heels. As she was doing up the zip, her cell began to play Icona Pop’s “I Love It”.
“Ugh, I really need to change that.” She let the call go to voicemail and moved on to apply her morning face.
The cell rang again, inviting the played-out pop group into her room once again.
“Definitely changing that.” She sighed and raced over to the nightstand to pick up her phone before it could direct the caller to voicemail a second time.
“Parties by Brooke.”
“Brooke? Brooke? Oh thank Goodness,” a woman greeted her frantically between gasps for air.
“Who is th—?”
“It’s me, Kim. Kim Lockard. I’m sorry to call so early, but we have a big problem!”
Brooke braced herself for whatever revelation of crisis was sure to follow. Director Lockard had been pretty hands-off when it came to planning the annual autism gala, so for her to be this worked up about it...
“Everything’s gone to hell,” she confirmed.
“Now, now, I’m sure it’s not—”
“Oh, it is! The Gables just went up in flames. Can you believe it? In one fell swoop, we’ve lost our venue, staff, caterer, everything. And with less than a week until the gala, I’m afraid we're going to have to postpone—.”
Now it was Brooke’s turn to interrupt. “Kimberly, calm down. I’ve got this.” Then as an afterthought, “Was anyone hurt in the fire?”
“No, thank God. Are you sure it’s doable?”
“Of course. I can call in some favors and get us back on track in no time.”
Other than the sound of Kim’s breathing slowing somewhat, the other end of the line stayed silent. Brooke rolled her eyes. She wished the woman would just take her word at face value rather than making her explain herself over and over again.
“Trust me, the gala will be a success. I promise we can make this work. I do this for a living remember? I'm not some inexperienced volunteer. Let me handle this. I’ll have a new location, caterer, staff, all the bells and whistles in place before you can bat an eyelash.”
Kim took a long, deep breath on the other end of the line.
Brooke imagined her pinching her sinuses as she so often did whenever something was vexing her.
“You’re absolutely positive?” Kim asked at last.
“One-hundred percent. Let me go get to work. I’ll call you later tonight to give you a progress update.”
“Oh, Brooke. You're the best board member we have, and I know you’ll do a great job. You always do. This fire just has me frazzled. Let me know when you’ve secured a new venue. Thanks again. I’ve gotta go. I have a million fires to put out this morning. Oh dear, maybe that wasn't the best choice of words. Ugh...... thanks again! Bye.”
“Bye.” Brooke put down her phone and stretched. The gala had always been one of her easier volunteer jobs. As the board chair for the finance and fundraising committee, she had prided herself on always bringing in more money each year than they budgeted. Losing the venue a week before the event was going to require some serious work, but she could pull it off.
Brooke shook her head to rid herself of any lingering concern, threw her hair into a messy bun, and headed out to fix the disaster that had landed firmly on her plate.
Just keep swimming. Just keep swimming.
She had a lot of work to do, but first things first, she needed a venue and quick. Thankfully the Book Cellar had the perfect room to host it and the owner owed her a favor.
Heck, they could even clear the businesses on either side of it for the night to open up a few extra dance floors. More dancing meant more fun for the party-goers, and more fun meant larger donations.
She slipped on her bluetooth and called Allen over at the B.C. It didn’t take much coaxing to secure the space for the gala. He even volunteered to do the legwork needed to clear out the back patio that overlooked the Hill Country. With a little finagling he even threw in some bar tables and chairs for the back. There would be enough room to fit all the guest as well as another portable bar.
She would have to make a lot of calls today. Part of her job involved voluntelling the Herald Springs elite to help make it happen.
While she made her calls, she decided to take a brisk walk into town to at least fit a little bit of exercise into her day. Besides, the fresh air always had a way of jumpstarting her brain in the mornings.
And as she rounded the block, she found Annabeth at the curb grabbing a heaping pile of junk mail from her mailbox.
“Howdy, neighbor,” she said with a wave.
Annabeth nodded and raised her chin, something Brooke had never seen a white person do before, but she was from Detroit originally and married to a black man to boot.
She’s so... weird.
That was really the only word for Annabeth King. Weird. Really, really weird. Oh, yeah, and po
ssibly a porno pedophile serial killer, but Brooke did need all the help she could get.
It’s not like she’ll bring her personal drama into working the event. No, this one’s as closed off as they come. The perfect last minute lackey.
“Wait,” she called as she raced to close the distance between them.
Annabeth’s eyes narrowed as she turned around to face Brooke with an irritated look on her face. “What?”
“So you remember that gala I told you and Marcus about? The one for Joy’s group home?”
Annabeth folded her arms across her chest and pursed her lips. “Yes. Did Fernando get in touch with you?”
Brooke nodded as she felt her pulse point in her wrist.
There goes my target heart rate.
“Yes, thank you! I actually am in kind of a bind and could really use your help. The venue burned to the ground last night.”
Annabeth’s jaw dropped. “Oh no, was anyone hurt?”
“Everyone’s fine, but the last minute location change is going to really put us behind schedule. The home really needs this fundraiser, too. They just lost one of their grants......anyway, long story short, I could really use your help.”
Annabeth shoved the stack of mail beneath her arm and gave Brooke a nervous look. “Sorry, I have a lot of work for school, and I don’t—”
No, she’s not getting out of it this easy. Besides, it was time they properly inducted little Annabeth into how things worked around here.
Before Annabeth could turn to walk away, Brooke grabbed her wrist and made the other woman look at her head on. “Look, I wouldn’t ask if it weren’t important. I really need you. Please don’t say no.”
Annabeth let out a long sigh. “All right.”
“Thank you!” Brooke squealed and gave Annabeth a hug, realizing too late that she’d crossed an invisible barrier the two kept erected between them. She drew back and arranged her features into a more neutral expression. “We’ll talk more about it at book club later tonight. You are coming, right?”
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