A Rose Called Miracle
Book #4, Part 1
Author's Note: This is the fourth and final Book of 'A Rose Called Miracle'. This is fiction. All characters in intimate situations are over 18. Any resemblance to real people, organizations, or businesses is a simple coincidence. As with the first three books, it is made much more interesting by people of different races, religions, genders, and sexual preferences. And I still believe the world would be a better place if Douravia really existed.
KARI'S NEW LIFE
**There will come a time when you believe everything is finished. That will be the beginning." Louis L'Amour
*****
I waited outside, sitting on the steps, for nearly an hour after I called for the ride share. Five times I changed my mind and stood up to return to the house; five times I stopped and sat back down. I was once again considering going back inside when the rideshare arrived. Tears ran down my face as I took a long last look at the beautiful log house; the house where I thought I'd spend the rest of my life. I indelicately wiped my nose on the back of my hand before I climbed into the ride share, which turned out to be a not-so-new Ford SUV. I tried to smile as I mentally compared the Ford to my...what used to be my...Defender 110. The aging Ford fared badly in the comparison; "I need to go to the bus station." I said to the driver.
"No checks! Cash only!" The ticket clerk snarled at me. I checked my wallet, making sure that no one else could see what I was doing; I had a little over $350 and some change. I pulled out a fifty. "Okay, how far away will this get me? I need to be out of town ASAP."
"Sweet cheeks, for you, $50 will get you to Indy...or Philly if you want to go east instead of west. Or...$25 and a little personal consideration, could get you anywhere you want to go, Baby." He leered at me.
I gave him my best 'in your dreams' scowl and handed him the fifty bucks. "One ticket, next bus to Indianapolis...please." I said. 'You scumbag.' I thought.
I waited a little over 90 minutes before they called for my bus. I went outside, helped to stow my duffel, showed the ticket, and got on. We pulled out more or less on time. I reached into my purse for my phone so I could read; forgot I'd left that and my laptop in the kitchen of the log house so I couldn't be tracked. As we passed the city limits I panicked and started to stand up and ask the driver to let me off. Just then the bus hit a pothole and I bounced back into my seat. I stayed there.
We'd been travelling for a little over five hours before we pulled into the college town bus station to pick up more passengers. I decided to get off there. I reasoned that the creepy ticket clerk wouldn't hesitate to rat me out if anyone cared enough to check for me at the bus station.
I approached the ticket clerk and asked for directions to someplace cheap to stay. They pointed down the street, and said it was a five-minute walk. I approached the station exit with caution; I vividly remembered my kidnapping 16 years prior. When I finally got up the nerve to step out and start walking, I found the hotel with ease. It was shabby but cheap, and the lock on the door looked reasonably sturdy. The room was clean...more or less. It was a place to sleep. And think. And Plan. I sat on the bed for a few minutes before I realized how stupid I'd been; I'd left my debit card and checkbook on the kitchen table along with everything else. $12,000 sitting there that I couldn't access. Shit, what a fucking idiot.
I couldn't afford (literally or figuratively) to waste time. I stuffed everything I couldn't afford to lose (figuratively or literally) into my backpack. I used the single handcuff I'd kept for sentimental reasons to secure my duffel to the metal bedstead and hoped for the best.
I started networking. I went to the desk clerk; they were pissed that I interrupted their viewing of professional wrestling. When I asked if they knew anyplace hiring, they looked me up and down then pointed out an 'exotic gentleman's club' on the other side of the street. I shook my head no. Then they mentioned a bar/restaurant a couple blocks north that dressed their waitresses in tight short shorts and extremely tight t-shirts. "Nothing else?"
"Not around here; at least not that I know of. This ain't, like, the greatest neighborhood." The clerk admitted.
"How about a public computer café or something like that?"
"We got a library...about a mile east of here. They might have what you're looking for." They gave me directions which I jotted down.
"Is it safe to walk; I don't have a lot of disposable income just now."
"Yeah. As long as it's daylight--you don't want to be out after dark. One good thing is we're right on the local bus route so it's easy to get around."
"Thanks a lot. I'd better hustle." I practically ran the mile to the library and asked to use the public computer. They showed it to me; it was probably 15 years old. But when I punched in 'City of ******* Jobs' it quickly displayed lists. 'Previous Experience' one site asked. 'Let's see' I thought, 'whore house maid, nearly homeless cleaning woman, sex slave, personal assistant, housewife.' I huffed out a breath and wondered how to spin that kind of resume into a job.
I jotted down a list of places seeking personal assistants. Looking out the library window showed me that the sun was getting lower, so I started back to the hotel. I stopped at a market and bought a few essentials as cheaply as I could. I also stopped at the bar/restaurant; not to eat but to get a job application. You know...just in case. I got back to my room just as the sun set. My duffel was still securely attached to the bed. I set out my purchases and pulled out a pack of generic cheese crackers for my dinner. Until I was employed, cheap was good.
I secured my door using lock and a couple tricks Solo and his crew taught me to supplement the lock. Plus, I secured my duffel and backpack to the bed. I washed out my bra, panties, blouse, and socks and put them up to dry. I slept pretty well--if you don't count the three hours I lay in bed, eyes wide open, and wondering if I was doing the right thing. I hoped that some day Brett and Valerie would forgive me for leaving; and that Valerie would flourish in the new school with Stephen. But, by God, I'd made a decision; and that simple fact felt wonderful. With that realization, I slept.
Over the next week I visited several local businesses that listed openings for secretaries or personal assistants. None worked out. Without fail, I was asked about personal qualifications; then asked to type something; maybe demonstrate computer skills. After that, the approaches varied, but every person who interviewed me ended up demanding 'personal favors' in return for the position. I declined each offer. After my last interview I stopped at the library and made another list of jobs. I also, even knowing I was risking discovery, used the library computer to send an e-mail to Valerie giving her the General Delivery info.
That afternoon I left my pride in my duffel and signed in for my first shift as a waitress at the sleazy bar/restaurant; let's face it you can't eat pride. My experience as a slave served me well. I had no trouble with 'Sir' or 'Ma'am'; the occasional pat on the backside or 'accidental' touch of my breasts or hair hardly bothered me. The tips, considering it was the early shift, were pretty good. By the end of my shift, I had enough for another week in the hotel and some more cheap food.
The weekend was good to me. With nothing else to do, I did double shifts both days at the restaurant--early afternoon 'til closing. The night shift customers were a lot freer with their hands--but also much better tippers. Some of the other waitresses bitched constantly. I couldn't blame them; however, compared to the behavior of masters and mistresses of the gathering...these customers were amateurs. It was amazing what a shy smile and 'Thank You Sir' could do for the amount that got stuffed down the back...or front...of my shorts.
Monday morning, I resumed my job search...but I was worried. I realized that providing my name and social number could possibly reveal my location. I wasn't sure what I could do. My first and second interviews went exactly like the rest of them. I went back to the hotel and got ready for work at the restaurant. The shift went well until about 8:00. A middle-aged man, tall and heavyset with long graying hair tied back in a ponytail, decided I was his. He planted a large hand on my ass and didn't care who saw. I tried to move away without making a scene; then he slipped his other hand under my t-shirt and caressed my breast. I gasped and pulled away; but...and don't ask me why...I simply smiled back at him, said, "Thank you sir." I walked away but after just a few steps the man caught me by the arm--not hard or painful--just asking me to wait. He slid his hand inside my shorts, and I could feel him leave something. "Thanks for being a good sport, Honey. My name is Chris."
"It was my pleasure, Sir." He released me.
"I'll be seeing you, Sweetheart." God, I wanted to puke.
I hurried back to the 'waitress room' before I reached into my shorts. I pulled out what Chris had left: $100 and a business card. "Fuck me!" I sighed, "I'm turning into a whore after all." I sat and held my head, "Philomena, Candy, Shack, and 'Lil Dickie must be laughing their asses off down in Hell. Shit!" I threw away the card; but kept the money. I'd been reminded by the other waitresses that any money stuffed in our shorts or shirts didn't have to be pooled.
Tuesday morning, even after another double shift that meant I only got to bed at 0400, I had an interview with a local realtor named D. Quinlan. I didn't have much hope, but I had to check with the guy. So, I showed up and was immediately escorted back to the CEO's office. The lady in the outer office stood to greet me; it was a struggle as she was hugely pregnant.
She welcomed me and over the next few minutes gave me a quick rundown of the responsibilities and technology. I asked how long the job was for. She said not to worry, this was her 4th (and last) pregnancy and it was time to stay home with the family.
After we'd chatted for several minutes the inner door opened and a tall, dark-haired, solidly built woman stepped out. She looked at the receptionist, "And this is?" She pointed at me.
