Saving Charlie (Stories of Serendipity Book 9)

by Anne Conley

  She interrupted his thoughts of what all he wanted to do with her.

  C: Maybe

  L: You don’t even have to stay for the whole thing.

  Was he begging her? Okay, if she said no again, he would accept it. He did have some pride.

  C: Okay. I’ll come for part of it. But I’m tired and want to have an early night. Probably won’t stay late.

  He would take that.

  L: Cool.

  That was a nice understated response, right? He hoped so. But he really hoped she showed up. He wanted to make sure she was okay.

  Les paid more attention than usual to his appearance as he got ready to play that night. He wore his lucky jeans, which he’d considered his ass in before he paired them with a blue plaid western shirt with pearl snaps over a black undershirt. Slipping on his black boots, he allowed himself ten minutes of tinkering with his hair before giving up on the mass of curls and slapping a cowboy hat over them. It was the Gin after all, nothing more than a honky tonk.

  Jason and Brandon were there, ready to go as soon as he arrived, Jason eager, Brandon bored. Par for the course. Jason was always excited to play, not having any other musical outlet for his horn. Brandon just drummed, it didn’t matter where. He was one of those people who drummed on anything, with any implements, much to the annoyance of those around him. He was more of a rock sort of guy, but he played along with Jason and Les’s standards whenever they asked him.

  They were halfway through their second set when Les saw Charlie walk in.

  Even dressed casually, she took his breath away. Unable to look away, he continued playing as he watched her take in her surroundings. He knew what she saw, the same thing everyone else did when they walked into the Gin. It was an old cotton gin, and still looked like that from the outside—an old tin building, taller than the other buildings around it. She was obviously surprised by the insides, probably from the duality of the atmosphere. The interior looked like the outside—corrugated tin, predictably covered with enormous posters of bikini-clad Budweiser babes, paired with sepia toned pictures of Old Serendipity.

  As her gaze took it all in, the smoky haze dissipated around her as she slunk over toward the bar, her tattooed arms exuding a “don’t fuck with me” vibe that Les saw straight through. Her face looked hard, like she was there against her will, and he wondered what exactly had made her come if she didn’t want to be there?

  He was thankful she was here, though. If she was here, he could watch over her, with immense pleasure, and make sure she was okay. Aside from looking like she wanted to be anywhere else, she seemed fine. Les had noticed she didn’t really seem to care much for social situations.

  He watched other men notice her in her layered tight-fitting tank tops and worn jeans perfectly molding to her curves. They checked out her ass, and Les felt a rumble in his chest at the thought that they all wanted what he’d already staked a claim on. Thankfully, he wasn’t singing that measure, or else it would have come through the song, and he didn’t really think his cover of Skyfall warranted all that possessive growling.

  Thankfully, the tattoos seemed to be doing their job, as the cowboys and young bucks watching her would eyeball them before chickening out of talking to her. That or the look on her face, or the way she crossed her arms over her chest, leaning on the bar, crossing her ankles over each other as she watched Les watch her while he sang.

  As their set segued into a Maroon Five song, and Les crooned about sex and break ups, she relaxed a little and ordered a second beer. Les’s hopes rose that she might stick around for their break, when he’d get a chance to talk to her.

  She was enjoying him now. He saw her foot rocking to the beats of the music, and remembering the night she let go and danced for him, his next song would be the song he’d written for her. When the last chords of the Maroon Five song faded out, he took a deep breath and leaned into the mic, watching her intently as he spoke.

  “Recently, I had the pleasure of taking a trip across country with someone who saved me from being stranded in desolation with nothing but utter boredom to keep me company. Unfortunately for her, I’m in love now. And unfortunately for you guys, I’ve written a song about her, which I’ll regale you with now.”

  The Female Deity

  As my lady gestures me forth

  And our shying glances connect for the very first time,

  It’s the mesmerizing aura in her once vacant eyes

  That exudes an almost dark and passionate desire.

  I secretly hope over time, that she will one day bequeath her body and soul to mine.

  CHORUS

  You see, I am in awe of this female deity

  If she could see the imprints that she has left on my heart

  After bestowing a fleeting kiss upon my lips,

  I’m sure she would honor me with yet another.

  SONG

  If only she knew how desperately I want to lie alongside her,

  Snake my strong arms around her tiny waist,

  Run my fingers through her silky hair,

  Draw her close into my naked chest and feel her heart beat against mine.

  I ponder as to what she would do.

  CHORUS

  You see, I am in awe of this female deity

  If she could see the imprints that she has left on my heart

  After bestowing a fleeting kiss upon my lips,

  I’m sure she would honor me with yet another.

  SONG

  Once again, in the audience I see her.

  This time she doesn’t beckon me forth.

  She just raises her head and points her long lashes toward me.

  She doesn’t avert her gaze.

  She just holds my attention for what seems like minutes.

  You see, Charlie; you will always be the unseen miracle in me.

  CHORUS

  And as I declare my undying love for you through our song

  There are only eight letters I have left to say to you

  Charlie…

  “I LOVE YOU”

  Les watched her eyes soften as he sang. He needed her reaction, and he got them all. He watched her eyes fill with disbelief at his words, then acceptance. To his extreme relief, desire filled her gaze as she licked her lips at the words of the second verse. Then, to his horror, he’d watched her shut down toward the end, and grief filled her entire body as her shoulders slumped before she slapped a wad of bills on the bar and leaving her beer half-drunk, she left.

  It pissed him off.

  She was denying what she felt for him, for whatever reason. And in denying herself, she was denying the both of them. After the set was over, he begged off the rest of the night and drove straight to Charlie’s house.

  When Charlie heard him pounding on her door, she sighed, knowing he was here to confront her. That was okay. Charlie had a few words to say to him too. This was turning into too much. She couldn’t handle it like this. With The Man back in her life, she had to rethink everything. And Les had to be the first to go.

  When she answered the door, he raked his hand through his hair, shuffling his feet. Her heart went out to him for what she had to say, but when he spoke, it wasn’t what she was expecting.

  “Look, I know you’re trying. Honestly, I can see that. But I need more from you.”

  Of course. He would always want more, wouldn’t he? She shut the door and pushed past him to sit on the steps, hugging her knees against her chest. Even though she hadn’t given him anything, really. Sure, Charlie had hinted vaguely at a rotten childhood, but she hadn’t really told him much had she? She stared at the stars for a while, trying to understand the emotions coursing through her. Charlie knew that she needed to break it off. Now. She was incredibly sad, which was odd, because this was something she’d done often enough.

  Before Les.

  He came and sat next to her, wordless. Giving her time to gather her thoughts, he leaned against the handrail and watched her.

  “Do you ever
wonder? About how there are millions of stars, and each star is a sun, with planets circling it? And each planet might have living things on it? Here on this one, out of billions of planets, humans have been formed by a bunch of random cells meshed together. And humans meet randomly and fall in love and have babies, who come from parents they don’t choose? Nobody to say, ‘you shouldn’t reproduce.’ Just everybody making spawn willy-nilly, some good and some bad. The human spawn all make random choices. And all the choices they make are relative to the choices their parents made and their parents and so on? All of those choices are also relative to their environments, and the choices made around them? Don’t you see some sort of futility in the randomness of it all?”

  Les was quiet for a long time, and Charlie’s nerves ratcheted up a notch. She looked over her shoulder at him, and he was still sitting there, watching her. When he spoke, she had to struggle to hear him, leaning toward him a little.

  “Sometimes I do feel small, when I look at the stars and think about the big picture. But I believe we were created for a purpose. All of us. I don’t think it’s at all random.”

  “So, you think we’re fated to live the lives we lead? That our choices don’t matter?” A hopelessness filled Charlie. Hopelessness that she hadn’t felt in so long, and despaired at the thought that this wonderful man next to her was bringing out this emotion that she’d buried so long ago.

  “I didn’t say that. I believe we have free will. And that we can choose our jobs and what we do with our lives. We can choose to fulfill our purpose or not. We can choose the person we’re destined to be with. Or not.”

  He played with the cuff of his jeans leg while he talked, still watching her. “Charlie…I want to be your hero. I know that sounds stupid, and something tells me you’ve already been your own hero for so long. You don’t need help saving yourself, but I can see you hurting, and I want you to let me save you.”

  She saw this conversation going two ways. Option one: she could tell him, right now, that she was The Liberator. She could tell him about The Man and her sham of a childhood and adolescence. She could give him what he wanted, her honesty, and see what he would do with it. She could let him stroke his ego by holding her and comforting her. Healing her with his love and his unwavering faith in humankind and God.

  Or she could choose option two: what she’d always done. Push him away, go back to her solitary lifestyle, where all she counted on was herself. She knew she could depend on herself, take care of herself, improve herself.

  “I’m not who you want me to be, Les.” Option number two hurt like a bitch. Tears clogged her throat, making it almost impossible to swallow.

  “Why don’t you let me decide?”

  “Because, what do I do if you agree with me? I let you in, and you reject me because it’s all too much for you? What do I do then?” She shook her head. “I’m not going to do that to myself. Sorry.”

  She stood, Les scrambling up next to her, grabbing her waist. “Wait.”

  “You’ll find someone else. You told me you were the fool for love. There will be other girls.”

  His hands tightened on her waist. “You’re different. I know that sounds lame, but you are and I can’t explain it. I don’t think of you the way I ever thought of Renae, or Lindsey, or any of the others. You’re under my skin.” He sighed, and dipped his head closer. “I know we can’t go backward, but I wish we could. I wish you could see that I care for you, but now that we’ve had sex, fan-fucking-tastic sex, I’m afraid you think that’s all I want. I can get that elsewhere, Charlie. I want you. All of you. And I think you want me, too. Whether or not you tell me about your past, I will find out. And when I do, I’ll still be here. I’m not going anywhere, and I’m an extremely patient man.”

  The warmth of his lips met hers in a soft kiss, nibbling and caressing hers in a way that made her feel treasured. She’d never had a kiss like it before. She responded, kissing him back, reining in her passions, keeping it gentle, when she just wanted him to make her forget everything. But his kiss only served to remind her of what she couldn’t have.

  When he pulled away, his hands framed her face, his thumbs wiping away tears she didn’t realize were tracking down her cheeks. When she spoke, her words surprised even herself.

  “You’re not going to stop, are you?”

  He smiled ruefully, as he slowly shook his head. “Not on your life, Sweetness.”

  “What are you doing next Friday night?”

  “Dinner with my parents. But I can cancel. Why?” His raised eyebrows and the hopeful curve of his lips gave Les a ridiculously youthful appearance.

  “Invite me,” she breathed before she could chicken out.

  “I love you, Charlie,” he laughed before schooling his features and formally asking, “Charlie, would you do me the honor of having supper with my parents and me next Friday?”

  “I’d like that.” Her voice was still weak, but when Les’s mouth lowered to hers and claimed another kiss from her lips, she was pretty sure it had been stolen. Nothing else would come out.

  With that, he turned and disappeared into the night. She listened as his truck door slammed shut and he started it, driving off into the night.

  Chapter 21

  The average age of a girl forced into prostitution is 13 years old.

  —www.refugeoflight.org

  Les was freaked out, but hiding it from Charlie valiantly, he thought. He’d pestered Rachel continuously about her findings since the banquet.

  “Okay, all I’ve managed to dig up is that there is a Douglas Manning who was just released from prison on parole. He was in on organized crime charges, running a prostitution ring of underaged girls he’d kept in his home. He was sentenced before Human Trafficking was a felony or even a word. That’s why he’s out. I have no connection to Charlie, though. So I don’t know if it’s even the same guy, but he went by The Man.”

  “Keep on it, Rach. Please? There’s got to be some connection.” Chills swept up his spine. “Maybe that’s not the right one, maybe The Man is somebody different.” The idea of Charlie being one of the girls he’d spent some time with at the Refuge was too awful to even consider.

  “There’s one other thing about this Manning character though. I think it bears hearing.”

  “Okay, shoot.”

  “He’s suffering from liver failure caused by cirrhosis and is on a transplant list. But unless one comes through in a month or so, he won’t make it. They don’t put prisoners high on the transplant list, so he’s been waiting for a while.” She sounded odd, and Les wondered what else there was.

  “What?”

  “What do you mean what?”

  “You know more. What are you not telling me?”

  “You need to ask Charlie, Les. It’s not my story to tell.”

  “What the fuck, Rachel? Don’t you think I’ve been asking her? If you know something, tell me, dammit!” Frustration rocked him to his core. He was shaking and couldn’t sit still.

  He could hear the forced patience in her voice. “I can’t Les. I’m so sorry.”

  “Fuck!” Les punched end on his cell phone, feeling the glass give under the force of his finger. He didn’t care, and threw the phone across the cab of his truck. What the fuck was it with women and secrets? Jesus. He didn’t have a fucking chance.

  Sighing heavily, he settled in for another night in his truck outside Charlie’s house. He didn’t know yet what all this was about, but he’d be damned if he’d let her push him away completely while the unknown was out there, scaring the hell out of her. So he’d planned on spending the nights outside her house, watching, waiting, and sort of sleeping.

  The next Monday morning, Charlie was scheduled to do a reclamation on a house to be torn down in a week. She showed up at the work site with her trailer and tools, ready to work. She had a week to get what she wanted out of this house before they demolished it. Someone had decided the land was worth more without the house on it, so they were tearing it
down.

  Charlie didn’t get it. Sure, the house was in awful condition, but it had good bones. It just needed a facelift and it would be beautiful. Victorian era, it was a three story wood and brick house with cupolas, columns, and countless windows, most of which actually worked, although most were missing glass. It had been abandoned for years, and being out on a country road, had been targeted by vandals. It was the sort of thing that made Charlie sad, seeing this piece of history go, but she was going to take advantage of it, and get the pieces of it she could.

  The Hickerson’s heir was on site, waiting for her. He didn’t say much, just eyeballed her up and down before getting in his truck to sit and watch her.

  Whatever. I got this.

  Charlie slung on her tool belt, grabbed her pry bars and went to work. Today’s goal was to get all the doors and begin getting the working windows out. That was a lofty goal for one day, but if she stayed focused, she could do it, no sweat. Starting on the top floor, she used her hammer to bang doors out of hinges, and humped them down the stairs. These heavy wooden doors were a hot commodity in her line of work. Especially if they were in good condition, which most of these were.

  She got most of the regular doors out in a couple of hours. Then she grabbed the sledgehammer and went to work on removing sections of the wall to remove the pocket doors. Then she started on the windows. Back at the top.

  The entire time, Mr. Hickerson sat in his truck watching her. She ignored him. Charlie was used to men thinking that she couldn’t accomplish what she said she would alone. They were good old boys who thought women should stay in their place, either in a kitchen or behind a desk. Charlie had never been good behind a desk, and she didn’t really enjoy cooking. Mr. Hickerson had had to be cajoled to give her this job. He was ready to demolish the house and haul the whole thing to a dump. Charlie had to practically beg him to let her have a few days to get stuff out first. She’d ended up offering him money for what she took.

  Working with her hands and numbers was her thing.