Saving Charlie (Stories of Serendipity Book 9) (10 page)

“Thank you.” Her own voice came out barely more than a whisper. Les’s fingertip caressed her bare arm, and they both watched the goose bumps as they popped up in the finger’s wake.

“I’m really glad we met up on this trip. I’ve enjoyed myself more than I thought I would.” His voice was low and husky, and Charlie stifled every desire she had.

“Me too.” His eyes were glazing over, and Charlie felt the need to set him straight. “Um, Les?” His gaze snapped up to her eyes, regaining focus. “I really need you to understand you can’t start anything with me.” She watched the light die out of his eyes, and something inside her broke knowing she was doing this to him. “I mean, I really like you, and you’re very attractive…” Understatement of the century. She felt more for Les than just friendship, and that scared the hell out of her, and she found him way more than attractive. But she was too damaged, and that was why she lied to him next. “But we can’t be more than friends. Honestly. I can’t do anything more with you.”

“Can’t or won’t?” He’d stopped touching her, and she felt the absence as a palpable entity at the bar.

“Can’t. I’m incapable of more than friendship or sex. I’m not wired that way. I’m sorry.” She had to clear the air before the wedding, where listening to other people pledge their undying love to one another would give him ideas.

He leaned back in his bar stool, crossing one ankle over the other knee, pursing his lips in thought, and rubbing his chin. She watched him warily as he decided what to say next. His eyes raked over her body, and she allowed it, almost feeling his gaze as warmth washed over her.

“What if all I want is sex?” How many drinks did he have before she got here? This side of Les was one she hadn’t seen much on the trip. She’d been used to his double-entendres on the phone with the business, and his completely filthy side during his late-night phone calls totally turned her on. But seeing him now, in the delicious flesh saying the word sex was doing her in. When sex rolled off his tongue, it sounded like a sinful dessert, like something she could lounge in all day. Like something she wanted so badly she could taste it.

She found her gaze traveling over his body, imagining the possibilities, before snapping back up to his face. He’d said it himself. His anthem was fool for love.

“You don’t, though, Les. You want the whole package, and you’d only get hurt in the process.”

His face became a mask of blankness as he sat up and finished his drink. “Okay. You win this round.” Motioning for two more drinks, he looked at her again, pain in his eyes, but the rest of his face controlled. “But I’m not finished with you, yet.”

The next round of drinks came, and they drank them in awkward silence. Charlie resisted the urge to further explain her position in an attempt to make him stop trying. She wasn’t sure how long she could resist him if he turned on the charm full blast, and she knew his heart, as well as hers, was in danger.

The wedding was nice, as only a wedding full of strangers could be. She and Les were seated on the groom’s side, and Charlie looked around, seeing a sea full of strangers. The ceremony was blessedly short, and Charlie tried not to think about it much, preferring to sing hip-hop songs in her head. If her mind went down that morbid road, she was liable to have another breakdown, and she couldn’t do that. Les would probably leave her here and take a plane home.

And that thought distressed her more than she cared to admit.

The reception was held at the hotel where they were staying, and Les and Charlie found a table near the stage where Les would play after the DJ was finished for the evening. The sat through the standards—the first dance, the garter toss, the bouquet toss—all the stuff that made Charlie’s stomach roil. Leaning closer to Les, she asked, “Is this her first wedding?”

“Yeah, I think so. That’s why all the rigmarole. Lance seems to really love this one though. He’s enjoying himself.”

She looked, and sure enough Les seemed right. Lance was cradling the bride in her enormous poufy gown on the dance floor looking adoringly into her eyes. A shiver went through Charlie, and she didn’t know why.
Rapper’s Delight
started up in her head just as a group of men sat at their table, laughing and slapping each other’s backs. The one sitting next to Charlie was blond and instantly reminded her of Justin. He flashed an arrogant, dimply smile at her that at one time would have made her grab his hand and drag him off to a deserted room. But not tonight. She tossed him a thin-lipped smile back, trying to discourage attention, but not wanting to be rude.

“Dance with me?” Les was asking, the earnest expression back on his face. He looked like a puppy dog begging for a walk.

She shook her head. “I don’t think it’s a good idea, Les.”

“Come on. It’s a dance; I’m not going to make a pass.”

Not wanting to cause a scene or hurt his feelings, she didn’t mention that a dance
was
a pass, in her mind. Besides, she sort of wanted to feel his arms around her again, but didn’t want to think about the implications of that desire.

He led her to the dance floor and encircled her in his arms. The feeling of belonging came back, and Charlie inhaled deeply as she settled her head on his shoulder. His hands on her waist and his sandalwood scent brought her an infinite peace she was unfamiliar with. She’d never had this with anyone, and knew exactly what it would lead to—expectations she couldn’t fulfill.

The song was a slow one, and Les hummed in her ear in his soothing voice, low and smooth, as he expertly led her around the floor. She succumbed to the emotions that were warring inside her, telling herself this was it. After this dance, she wouldn’t touch him again. His heart beat against her chest, reminding her of the fragility of men’s emotions. Justin was an example of that. She couldn’t let Les get to that point with her.

Adam had been it—her one true love, and she’d messed that up. Charlie had only done what The Man and her own parents had taught her. She’d been selfish with Adam’s attention, even after the baby had come. Adam had married her because he’d felt trapped into it, and then when she’d had their son, she’d only demanded more and more of his attention until he’d snapped and left her alone.

Charlie didn’t know the first thing about relationships. And she couldn’t break Les the way she’d broken Adam.

“I think I’m up next,” Les murmured in her ear, the warmth of his breath caressing her goodbye as he squeezed her hips and released her. She nodded, her voice gone, before returning to their table.

The blond was grinning at her wickedly, and she silently returned to her seat next to him while Les carried his guitar lovingly as he strode confidently to the mic that had been set up for him. Charlie settled in for a night of listening to Les sing and play, eager for the distraction.

He was really good, playing for an audience. Charlie realized he had a presence on stage that she hadn’t previously seen. Before, he’d just been messing around, maybe even trying to impress her. But now, he was performing, and there was a huge difference. His voice was clearer, his fingers more purposeful. He had a charisma that shone from his little chair on the stage. He was marvelous.

Les started out with his standards while the audience watched appreciatively, smiles on their faces. Then he started to mix it up a bit, throwing in a few newer songs, songs that he’d obviously arranged himself from a full band accompaniment to a single acoustic guitar. And he did it effectively. Charlie was impressed, almost spellbound as his voice washed over her. Everyone else disappeared into the background, and she could pretend this was a private concert, just for her.

The group of men sharing her table, though, were getting increasingly drunker and more boisterous, pulling her attention away from her fantasies of a private performance with their snowballing rowdiness. The blond’s gaze raked over her arms, leaving a trail of slime in their wake.

“Nice sleeves. You look like the kind of girl who likes a good time.” She shrugged, trying to refocus her attention on Les, but his finger on her thigh jerked her attention back to him. “What’s this one?”

She slapped his hand away. The “RE” of her “Les is More” tattoo was peeking out, and she wasn’t about to raise her skirt to show him the rest. Asshole. Thankfully, they left, judging by the cloud surrounding their return, to smoke expensive cigars and hit something harder than champagne. Charlie did her best to ignore them.

Eventually, people got tired of just watching and went back onto the dance floor while Les played. Charlie watched the various couples dancing to Les’s music, trying not to get maudlin. Coming to this had been a mistake. Her glance landed on Les, and he winked at her before sliding into his next piece, a slow familiar melody with no words he’d played before.

The blond walked in front of her, blocking her view of Les.

“Hey, babe.” His clipped words made
babe
sound like
beb
and she smiled to herself. He was wearing a shiny suit that may have been in style in Santa Barbara, but in Serendipity, it would look like plastic on a used car salesman.

“Hey.”

“Wanna dance?” He was standing in front of her, feet planted wide apart, hands on his hips, as if not taking no for an answer. After the night she’d had, Charlie was up for the challenge.

She smiled. “No, thanks. I’m fine.”

“Come on, just one?” he wheedled.

A firmer, “No thank you.”

“Too good for me? You look at me and make a judgment like that? Who do you think you are?” Mumbling drunkenly, “Thinks she’s a badass with all those fucking tats…”

Her eyes flicked past him to see Les watching them intently, still softly strumming. She gave him a reassuring nod. “I’m here with someone else and you’re being rude.” He was being an asshole, but she didn’t know anybody here. This could be Lance’s brother for all she knew.

A sneer transformed the man’s face. “Rude?” He reached down, and before she’d realized it, he’d yanked her up against him. Charlie’s body filled with panic at the sudden loss of control of the situation. Her heart pounded, and a sweat instantaneously broke out on her skin. “I’m just here to have a good time,” he snarled.

“Let go of me…” Her voice was a whimper the man either didn’t hear or chose to ignore. She was suddenly in a different place.

Come on sweetheart. Let’s have a good time.

The guitar stopped and she was yanked out of the man’s arms. Les was standing toe to toe with the man, who had at least six inches on him. But Les was unfazed.

“She said she didn’t want to dance with you,” Les snarled at him.

The man took a step back, shrugging his shoulders. “A body like that isn’t made for dancing anyway. That body’s all about f—” Les’s fist landed on his mouth before he could finish his sentence. He took another step back, then went after Les, who hadn’t moved. Les ducked the first punch but didn’t see the left hand come at his eye. Les went after the man with a vengeance, managing to get in another couple of punches before Lance came and pulled him back. The man used the opportunity to sucker punch Les in the gut, doubling him over. Someone else pulled the man away.

Charlie had come to her senses just in time to hear the man call her a whore, and rushed to Les’s side.

“Are you okay?” His eye was swelling shut, and his lip was bleeding, but he smiled at her anyway.

“Yeah, I’m fine.”

“I’m sorry guys, that’s my wife’s cousin. Family Christmases should be fun for a while, don’t you think?” Lance offered sheepishly. “You did good, Les.” Looking at Charlie, “Can you get him back up to his room?” She nodded before running to get his guitar and helping him up.

From Domestic Human Trafficking Legislation in the 113th Congress, Prepared by the Congressional Research Service, Authors: Alison Siskin, Adrienne L. Fernandes-Alcantara, Kristin Finklea, May, 2014.

Shelters specifically for child sex trafficking victims/survivors are available on a very limited basis. Other facilities, such as runaway and homeless youth shelters as well as foster care homes, do not appear to be adequate for meeting the needs of sex trafficking victims or keeping them secure from pimps/traffickers and other abusers.