

# Out of Order

By Jonathan Jackson

©Copyright Jonathan Jackson 2013

### Chapter 1

The cold water relentlessly soaks through the seams of her old canvas tennis shoes, seeping slowly onto her skin; her the socks wicking up the water. Still somewhat asleep, she pulls her feet up a little higher onto the step, trying to get them under the cardboard shelter she'd made for the night. The invading cold woke her from her fitful sleep in the doorway of the abandoned dentist office.  
"Argh, it'll be morning before I can dry my shoes!"

She reaches down and pulls off her shoes, putting them under the cardboard with her and then folding her feet underneath her body. There is no need to keep wearing wet shoes when all they are going to do is keep making you colder. Luckily the socks are the athletic type and will dry if she can keep them out of the direct water. The lady at the charity shop said they were the quick-dry type that all of the homeless and other type of street people would wear in the winter so their feet could stay relatively dry. She made a big deal about diabetics and taking care of their feet but she was far from that stage of life.

"That you out there making all that noise girlie?" A voice came from the dark around the corner in the alley.

"That you Charlie?"

"Yeah, it's me."

"You got a dry spot?"

"Probably no more than you do."

"I should have gone to the gym tonight and took a cot."

"I should do that every night, but you know how it is. I'm not ready for the fight to keep it once they turn the lights out." She thought about his mention of fighting for a bunk. From time to time punks would try to rob older people in the dark in their sleep. It often resulted in some pretty bad fights. Just because some street residents seemed to be old and their appearances were somewhat haggard, most weren't. Living outdoors under those conditions can make someone look older than their actual years.

"Me either."

"Goodnight girlie."

"Good night Charlie."

"Hey Girlie?"

She expected him to make some smart comment but was surprised when he didn't. "Say your prayers tonight ok? It's important."

"Important to stay in the street?"

"Important to stay alive. The street ain't got nothing to do with it."

"If you say so old man."

She heard a chuckle from the alley. "Old man! Bah, I bet I'm not ten years older than you are."

"Goodnight _old_ man." She liked Charlie. He was an older Pilipino man who came to the US to open a jewelry store and show off his custom made necklaces. Unfortunately for him, the economy didn't see it that way and the taste for his expensive style of coral and jade jewelry wasn't _en vogue_ this season. His wife kicked him out telling him not to come home until he found a suitable job. He was still looking for that suitable job, six years later.

"Hey Charlotte?"

"What do you want old man?"

"Did you say your prayers?"

"No!"

"Then do it or I'll keep you awake all night."

"Alright! Good grief." Not wanting to lie to her only trustworthy friend, she closed her eyes and clasped her hands, saying a short prayer. She didn't pray for her own welfare or safety. Instead she prayed for Charlie and his family. She was on the streets by choice. He wasn't.

• • •

Charlotte, who also went by Charlie from time to time, not to be confused with her friend she called "man-Charlie," ran away from home when she was seventeen. She was very bright and was on track to graduate high school an entire year early. She'd taken so many classes for her graduation requirements that all she needed was one half of a credit in English and she would get her diploma. While her friends were all taking useless electives and study halls, she was prepping to graduate. She was nothing less than driven. Motivated wouldn't even describe her.  
After her so-called escape from her home, she'd convinced an adult education teacher here in the city to let her take a free night class. She only needed one half of a credit in the state required English class to be eligible to receive her diploma. She was still only seventeen but the teacher swore not to violate her trust. He was more concerned with her welfare and knew she would run, never to be seen again should she be found out.

She got a copy of her diploma laminated and she carries it around in her small backpack. Contrary to everything she'd been told, it hasn't served her to any good. No one cared if she was a high school grad or not. She knew of at least three people living on the streets that she'd met who had advanced college degrees, one of them a Ph.D.

It was more for her own state of mind and the ability to say she had accomplished something. She was such a smart teenager that she became too smart for her own good. Midway through her junior year of school and much to the anguish of her parents, she started dating an older guy. He was out of high school already which also caused her parents grief. While they thought he was too mature for her she couldn't handle being around the immaturity of her peers. No one outside of her family thought anything of it since she was such an over-achiever and so much smarter than most.

She was so smart that she thought she could overcome anything and be ok in virtually any activities. She failed to remember that she was just a young teenager, emotionally and was easily led astray by her older boy friend. He did love her, and he treated her very well. Everyone liked him, even her mother and father. Even her overly protective older brother liked him, despite his usual brotherly antagonism toward her. She made it her mission throughout his teenage years to make him miserable and it was coming back to her in spades.

Her intellect and her false sense of bravado ended in tragedy. The April before she was scheduled to complete her junior year of school and wrap up high school, she found out she was pregnant. She was devastated. She'd gotten carried away only one time with her boyfriend, but like her mother said through sobs and tears, "It only takes one time and now a child is going to have a child."

She apologized profusely to her whole family and wasn't really surprised when her boyfriend conveniently decided to take that semester in college and study abroad in Spain. He pushed an envelope of money into her hand outside of her house one night and used the word that starts with "a" and ends with "-bortion." She wasn't very strong in her faith, but one thing she did believe in was the sanctity of life and that was never an option. She decided she'd take that cash, go to the city, and start a new life for her and her child. She couldn't take the scrutiny of all of the people she knew, her family and those in her school.

She was only in her first week in the city after having run away before the pains tore at her gut and she began to bleed profusely. A nice Egyptian fellow driving a cab found her crying in pain sitting on the curb and took her to the local community hospital. She reluctantly went, refusing to give them her real name or social security number. She didn't want anyone finding her. She spent the night there and learned that she'd had a miscarriage. She was no longer pregnant.

She fully expected to be jubilant that she didn't have that burden, but she'd already gotten used to the idea that she was going to be a mother. She knew she could have done a good job of it. That was when she decided that she would carry on, at least for the summer, and stay where she was. She was still tender from the emotional torture she was put through at home and wanted her people to be glad she had returned, not use it as an excuse to give her a hard time for months and months.

She also decided that she'd never let a boy get that close to her again. She had certainly learned her lesson and had no intention of repeating it. "Oh little baby, I already miss you and I only had you for a few weeks." She cried that night because she'd never given her child a name. Her inner "little girl" was surfacing well ahead of that superior intellect and it was painful.

She used some of the money her ex-boyfriend gave to her, to get a very small one room apartment, below street level near the subway station. That was where she met Charlie. He'd set up a small table on the sidewalk outside of her door one Sunday morning trying to sell necklaces. She couldn't afford one but did help him peddle them that day and made him a peanut butter sandwich for his lunch. He was grateful and they became instant friends. She needed someone like that, someone to trust, never mind she had a family and a home just two hours away by bus. She was just _so_ smart.

Soon summer turned to fall and her money ran out. She'd expected to have a job and a blossoming career by then. She liked the idea of working in the fashion industry, but career pickings were slim at her age and obvious lack of talent and experience. Charlie would plead with her to go back home and even tried to get information out of her about where she was from. She was sure he'd contact her family to come and get her. She knew she could make a go of it and refused to give in just because she was alone.

She eventually confided in Charlie and told him about being pregnant and losing the baby early on. He understood and said that he and his wife had lost a couple when they lived in Manila. He was convinced that it was because of toxins in the harbor from the typhoons that would blow through, and then be consumed in the fish they ate. When she was kicked out of her little basement flat, Charlie took her under his wing and showed her how to live and survive on the street, as best he was able.

"There are services out there if you'll use them," he said and taught her about charities and public services programs.

She did take every opportunity to employ her intellect with Charlie and he'd finally had enough one night.

"Do you think I am stupid?"

"What do you mean?"

"You keep talking down to me as if I'm stupid. Is it because of my Asian accent?"

"No! I never said you were stupid." She hugged his shoulder. "It's just how I am. I am super competitive and am always looking for ways to one-up people. I promise I don't mean anything by it."

"It's obnoxious."

She stung from that but nodded, knowing that it probably was, although no one had ever told her that. They used words like "know it all" and "brainiac" but never just came out and said how hateful and irritating it could be.

One evening, while she and Charlie were sitting in a local charity kitchen eating dinner together, an older gentleman with white hair and a white, well-trimmed beard sat down across from them. She stared. She couldn't help it. From beneath both of his emerald green jacket sleeves protruded two gleaming stainless steel prosthetic hooks.

He didn't speak to them but when a server from the kitchen brought him a tray, he was very gracious and thankful.

"I know this is going to sound rude, but is there anything I can do to help you out?" She asked of the man.

"How is that rude?" He asked in return. "I think it's quite nice."

"I figured that people stare a lot and ask stupid questions."

"They do but I don't mind."

"Were you in the war? Is that what happened to your hands?"

"Hands? Darling, these boogers go all the way to my elbows." He lifted the hooks for emphasis and clicked the pincers together. "I worked for the federal government...uncle sugar."

"I don't understand."

"Have you seen those high voltage power lines that cross the country?"

"Yes, the big ones with the towers?"

"That's them. I used to do maintenance on those things, hanging outside of a helicopter. I'd sit on a small platform on the skid while the pilot hovered. Then I'd hook onto the line to prevent electrocution while I worked. Well one day I managed to put my hook over a long dead bird that had frozen to the line and didn't get ground connection. The next thing you know it was snap, sizzle and pop and I was dangling from my line with my hands and sleeves virtually burned off."

"Goodness!" The male Charlie exclaimed. "How did you get down?"

"The pilot flew with me just like that, dangling from the line, to the nearest hospital. He radioed ahead and they unhooked me from my line while he hovered a few feet off the ground." He looked at the ceiling and blinked back a tear. "He saved my life flying like he did."

"I'm sorry. I didn't mean to upset you."

"You didn't. He saved me and I couldn't save him. Cancer killed him about a year ago."

"I'm sorry."

"Anyway, I'm pretty good at taking care of myself since my government health benefit ran out and I made the mistake of signing papers for the insurance company that said I couldn't sue them." He waved his arms wide, hooks shining in the fluorescent lights. "So here I am."

He made a great show of his dexterity with the pincers over the next half hour, and earned a hug from girl-Charlie and a promise to say hello next time she saw him.

• • •

The water hammered the edge of the building she was sheltering under and then dropped noisily onto the cardboard shelter she'd fashioned for herself on the step. The building kept the rain away and the cardboard prevented splash and spray from reaching her. She did manage to fall back asleep after her scolding from Charlie to say her prayers. Before she was kicked out of her apartment, she did sell everything she had, anticipating the inability to take any of it anywhere. She went to an upscale outdoor adventure store and bought a few specialty supplies; a space age blanket, guaranteed to keep you warm in the worst of weather and a whole rain suit made of the same stuff that the army uses. She didn't think far enough ahead and get footwear to go along with it.

She looked up from underneath the cardboard shelter and saw the hint of sunshine above the rain clouds, telling her that above all of that mess, the sun was actually shining this morning. She didn't mind the rain so much as she hated the nasty mud that seemed to accumulate in the city streets. Considering there was very little soil on the street sides, the mud was the mixing of a variety of toxic and disgusting materials that resulted from city sprawl and heavy traffic. Looking at her watch she saw that it was already past 6:30 and she was running late.

"I wonder why Charlie didn't wake me up, this morning." She crawled out from under the box fortress, folded up her blanket into its tiny little pouch, stuffing it in her backpack. She put her feet back into the canvas shoes that were still damp from the previous night's soaking. She hated to wear wet shoes, no matter the time of the year, and the cold weather encroaching on the city only made it so much worse.

She folded up the now-useless cardboard and stuffed it into a trash bin around the corner, while she looked for her friend. Even though her world consisted of alley ways and other homeless people, she still tried to be neat. She looked in the box he was sheltering in, and then checked with a few other alley dwellers and none of them said they had heard anything. All of his stuff was gone.

You could tell Charlie from everyone else by his bright orange hunting hat and his blue and yellow plaid over coat. He didn't match at all, but he said that where he came from, the fashion was in the color, not whether or not it actually went together. Garish was a good thing in Manila. He should have been a super-star. "Garish" was all over him.

"Hey what are you doing in my house?" A voice said loudly behind her. She jumped up, feeling like she'd been caught trespassing in someone's house instead of shopping in a cardboard box in a public alley.

"Where have you been?" She walked over to him. "Why didn't you wake me up? We missed breakfast at the 8th Street."

"You didn't miss anything. I checked on you and you looked so peaceful sleeping that I decided to go without you."

"Well wasn't that kind of you, leaving me to go hungry for the day." Her sarcasm clung to the air.

"Well not so much kind as it was being a great and noble friend." He produced a large bundle from a coat pocket, wrapped in greasy floral print paper towels and handed it to her.

She unfolded the care package from her friend. The paper towel cornucopia held a scrambled egg sandwich, donut, and piece of sausage. "The only thing I need now is some hot chocolate!"

"Oh yes," Charlie said reaching into his other overcoat pocket and withdrawing a Styrofoam cup with a lid. "You hot chocolate, my lady." He offered it to her. She happily took it in exchange for giving him a kiss on his sand-papery-rough cheek.

"You're such a prince! If you weren't already married and about thirty years younger, you'd be in real trouble."

"I'm pretty sure I'm not married any more, considering my wife hasn't come looking for me and where I come from, young women pursue the older men." He grinned at her, knowing she would take it as jest. Her banter helped to make him feel more human and less a fixture of the streets. Someone else overhearing that exchange would think he was a dirty old man trying to hit on a young girl.

Girl-Charlie enjoyed her breakfast and thanked Man-Charlie profusely. "I did need some sleep. Last night was hard."

"I know what you mean. It's supposed to rain again tonight. You going to stay here again or go to the shelter?" He knew she preferred the office step for her place to sleep. She said it felt safer being enclosed on three sides instead of "out in the open" as you would be in an alleyway. She also had a fear of a truck or some other vehicle driving down the alley, running over the people sleeping under the refuse.

Their particular alley ran northeast to southwest so there never was a wind in it unless it was storming. There was a science to seeking shelter, she was learning daily from Man-Charlie. She often thought that someone should write a book about street survival like the Boy Scouts does for wilderness survival. They could give it out for free at the missions and soup kitchens and help the homeless better survive their austere situations.

"I can't go to the shelter. It's too sad and there are too many other people who need it worse than I do."

This kind of statement made him mad. It was demeaning and she wasn't even aware that she was doing it. "What do you mean by that need it worse than you do junk? You're just as homeless as the rest of us. You're just as wet and just as cold."

"You know what I mean. I'm young and healthy. A lot of them aren't."

"That's bull and you know it."

She stood up and slung her pack over her shoulder, ignoring his righteousness. She was used to the idea that he wanted her to adopt his homeless state of mind. He told her it was an issue of survival, not of ego or pride.

"I'm going to go explore down at the fashion district today. I'll see if I can't find something better suiting for our particular skills."

"I know what my skill are but what are yours, hmm?" He looked at her mockingly, albeit friendly, "Do they market obnoxious teenagers down there now?"

"Ha! You should say so." She stuck out her tongue at him and hiked off down the sidewalk.

She really had no skills but she was modestly attractive and could wear most anything successfully. She earned money from time-to-time helping in what she called the sweat-shops. They weren't really sweat-shops but it was all she could come up with to call them. They made clothing.

She was what one designer called an "industrial grade" model. She would wear outfits so a seamstress could correct flaws in how a garment laid on the body –nothing fashionable about it. She modeled for an audience of one or maybe two very OCD and neurotic designers.

He yelled after her, "We're playing poker tonight in the big box. You should come watch! It's going to rain!"

"I'll be back before dark," She yelled back. "I need to stop by the store first."

"Bring some crackers if you think about it!"

She waved a hand in the air as if to say, "I heard you."

He didn't offer to pay for crackers. She knew every cent he scrounged or earned was given to someone else. Man-Charlie was a unique person. There wasn't a more charitable man in the world, considering he had nothing anyway. She expected to see him walk down the sidewalk in his boxers one day having given the clothes off of his back to someone in need.

• • •

Charlie strolled along the sidewalk of the storefronts in the garment district, dragging her fingertips along the rough mortar that separated the glass of the windows from their brick structures. Something about the rough texture kept her grounded in the here and now. On her side of the glass it was a free feeling, real and rough textured world; while on the other side, the display side, it was a gathering of dreams, inspiration , talent and a desperation for acceptance of someone's skillfully finished product, all smashed into one tangible product.

Occasionally she'd look at a particular mannequin in a window or a poster touting some new type of design or fragrance. She looked forward to window shopping these stores although she never went inside. The people who worked there had a biological radar that could detect someone who was penniless or couldn't afford to pay for their wares. They would turn up their noses and often invite her to browse elsewhere, all the while offering flutes of champagne to their paying customers in the next breath.

Occasionally she would be able to see her own reflection at the same time she could see the models on the posters. She was thin from lack of regular fast food, but she was still very healthy. The streets hadn't quite taken their toll on her yet. She would turn sideways and look at her reflection. When no one was looking, she'd lift her shirt and admire her slim stomach in the reflection. "Yeah I could be a model if I tried hard." She didn't realize that her flattening stomach was from the loss of ten pounds due to an exceptionally poor diet.

She often thought that she could be a model and had heard many stories about girls who arose from nothing to become the supermodels that commanded tens of thousands of dollars per gig on the runway. She knew of one pop-music icon that lived in her car, even as they were recording her first hit record. She wondered if any of those ultra-famous cat-walkers were intelligent or if they truly were the popularly thought of airheads that will do anything as long as a camera was pointed at them. She admitted that there had to be skill involved and stamina, but it just didn't strike her as being mentally stimulating, which she needed regularly.

She had a favorite store to visit. They were well known for being bizarre and "out there" with their campaigns. It was unusual for her not to laugh at some of their ideas. There was one poster in that showcase window where a woman had a large green Mohawk hair-do. The funniest part of the poster was that she was dressed mainly in a single strip of yellow, smiley-faced duct tape across her breasts and a large clam shell covering her womanly parts tied by a yarn around her waist.

On her wrist was an obscenely brilliant diamond tennis bracelet. She marveled that there were no words anywhere on the poster. Apparently the observer was supposed to guess what they were trying to sell; the large Mohawk, duct tape and sea shell modesty, or possibly and most likely the diamond bracelet. That model probably made a fortune to surrender her dignity like that, although Charlie would never recognize her even if she met her in person.

She stepped between two of the buildings and strolled down the clean alleyway. It was one of the clean ones because it was barely wide enough for her to stretch her arms out to the sides. Worst case scenario, it smelled like urine from those 3am visits by the clubbers too lazy to find an actual restroom. No vehicles could travel here so no garbage seemed to pile up. Bicycles didn't count and they often used this alley as a shortcut from street front to delivery area.

She emerged from the alleyway, leaving the posh and snobbish shopping area behind and entering the world of the blue-collar workers and the artisans. Here she felt a kinship although she had no real skills, just like Man-Charlie said. She had that high school diploma though!

The manufacturers, clothing assemblers, design studios, and wholesalers were located in this back side of wealth. These were the people who made the whole fashion industry perform. They created, tested, manufactured, promoted and delivered all of the high-dollar products from pretty much this very area, no larger than a football stadium. There were "over-seas" manufacturers who made bulk goods but if you were looking for one-of-a-kind items or limited runs, this was where they came from.

Her creative attitudes seemed to explode as she walked past truck after truck unloading at the shops and wholesalers. She heard no less than a dozen different languages being yelled in the din, amid the whistles, laughter, horns blowing, and diesel engines running. Occasionally a small scooter would come purring by, a stark contrast to the industrial machinations meeting old world skill and artistry.

There were a few designers on this street who would use her to model some of their clothes to do design work. She was a very slender, having an almost-boyish figure and apparently the most non-descript size – purely average. She stepped inside one of the loading bays, looking for a familiar face. The owner of this design house, Mrs. Kumi, who she called Mrs. K, was an arthritic, wizened Korean lady. She had the most amazing flair for fashion in trendy America. She wasn't one of the cable television millionaires but you could find her products in all of the elite stores, even if at the back of the rack.

Charlie sees her and walks over to the steel table where she is busy arguing with a Hispanic man in a business suit. She is holding a bolt of purple fabric, pointing out a visible defect on the leading edge. She argues first in Spanish with the man, then switches to Korean as she yells at someone else down the hallway. She sees Charlie walking toward her and beckons her forward.

"Charlotte, you girl! Come here! Look at this." She holds the fabric up in front of her.

Charlie looks at the business man and smiles, earning a scowl in return. Obviously he wasn't feeling very good about the transaction that Mrs. Kumi was trying to work out with him.

Mrs. K held the fabric in front of her face. "Do you see that? Do you think I can make a good jacket out of that with uneven colors?"

Charlie thought for a moment that she may even be getting the blame for the flaws which was completely unreasonable as she just walked up.

"Can I look at it please?" The old woman relented and handed the bolt to her. No expert in textiles, she knew Mrs. K needed some support, which was rare. She was a rock, an unbreachable island with rocky shore lines.

She unrolled the fabric on the table. The table was laser etched with a variety of lines and measurements, along with some strategic grooves for running shears through. She looked at the aberration in the fabric and then put her hand behind it, feeling for an unusual texture where the difference was.

"I can feel an oddity in the texture at that spot. It's almost like a different thread was used in the weaving process for a few runs."

The business man looked guiltily at her and nodded his head but admitted nothing. She ran her hand along the fabric and then began to unroll the oblong bolt, letting it make the characteristic flopping sound as it rolled over on the table. Once she had made two or three turns, the spots began to show up with more frequency. Mrs. K made a "P-sha" sound and started carrying on in Korean again.

The man then apologized to her. "We must have had a problem with the looms." He reached forward and looked at the defects. "Look, it's on the edges of the bolts. You could trim them and only lose an inch along that side."

"Only lose an inch? I pay you by the foot! That inch is fifty foot long."

"I can discount this bolt."

"No, I don't want this one. Close your truck doors."

"Wait! Let's not over react. I'll call and get this replaced right away." He flipped open his telephone and jabbed quickly at the keys.

She smiled and looked very much like a Cobra about to eat a squirrel. "I want you to discount me ten percent on this order, just because you were trying to sneak something in on me."

"That's a lot!" He then lapsed into Spanish and started squabbling with her, all while talking on the telephone.

Mrs. Kumi finally put a hand on top of his wrist, calming him. "Calm down Gustavo. Go have some coffee and we'll work this out. Discount me five percent, replace the defective bolts, and we'll call it even."

He smiled at her and took a deep breath. "Thank you Lanye. I've been through a lot just to get this one container shipment here." He snapped the telephone close. "I can do five percent without calling in."

"We've had a good business. We won't let this change it."

Charlie was completely lost in the process, first thinking that they were going to fist fight, and now she's acting like a loving mother to him. He walked down the hall toward the employee break room, his shoulders slumped.

"I don't understand what just happened."

"Charlotte, it's so good to see you." Mrs. K hugged her warmly. "Where have you been for so long? Adrianne needs a model right away. Her table is deep with projects." Charlie had not been by for about two weeks and Adrianne was very needy as far as a designer was concerned. She didn't like to use any other proto-type models for her work.

"I'll go help her. What happened with your salesman though?"

"That fabric is ruined. I can trim it but it is such a waste of materials." She clasped her hands in front of her chest and shook her head.

"Why did you change your mind with him?"

"Oh, I didn't change my mind. Sweet girl, that container by itself is worth almost three quarters of a million dollars. A five percent savings is great big!" She held her arms out wide. "That last call Gustavo made, I overheard his boss tell him to make the deal or come home without a job. He's been a good salesman and my number one connection to Costa Rica. I got five percent and he made the sale. We all win!"

"Is Adrianne here today? Does she need me right away?"

"She's been sick without you. I have to teach her to find other people when you're not around."

"I don't mind. I just wish it paid more."

"Since you helped me today, I'll give you an extra fifty dollars."

"Wait, I helped save you $37,500 and all you give me is fifty?"

"Okay, okay, I give you one hundred but more than that you can grab a broom and start sweeping too." Mrs. K looked at her appraisingly, "Hey you figured that amount quickly. Are you a genius girl?"

Charlie held up her hands, showing how clean and clear the skin was. "No broom callouses on these hands Mrs. K. I'm not anxious to start down that road just yet." She tapped her head, "I'll keep using this for a while."

The old woman laughed and pushed her down the hall toward the designers' stables. Charlie pulled her backpack off of her shoulder and dropped it in a broom closet that she knew no one would be going to. These people had an aversion to sweeping the floors, much less mopping. They hired it out so they wouldn't have to, and that was done at night. She knocked on the end door, which rang with an echo that gave away the size of the room behind.

Adrianne threw the door open and dragged Charlie inside, hugging her fiercely. "I thought I heard your voice! I need you!"

"Hey wow, it's nice to be needed." She pushed away from the hug, realizing that it was more of a gesture to comfort the neurotic designer than to show affection for Charlie. "I hear you have a bit for me to try on?"

"Boy, do I!" Adrianne ran to the table and came back with an arm full of different types of fabric. "How long do I have you for? Do you have to go somewhere today?

"I'm all yours for the day. I haven't made any other plans." Charlie was pretty sure that none of the people she interacted with here knew about her homeless situation. In fact, only Mrs. K knew that her real name was Charlotte, not Charlie. "Mrs. K is paying me so I'm your pin cushion."

"Woo hoo!" Adrianne whooped. She grabbed her MP3 player off of the shelf and started spastically thumbing through the menus. "I hope you like Jazz today. I have to swing for these outfits."

Charlie laughed inwardly to herself thinking, "You swing every waking moment!" Alluding to her suspected neuroses. Adrianne made her very uncomfortable with her constant physical contact. She was so used to being a "no touch" person with everyone else and Adrianne takes it in a completely opposite direction. Charlie thinks that it's more of a comfort for Adrianne to have that contact instead of a show of affection. She's rather clingy as well as needy, in Charlie's astute assessment.

• • •

"Ouch!"

"Sorry. Didn't mean to stick you." Adrianne shoved a straight pin back in to the old fashioned pin cushion on the table. "I think this is gorgeous on you."

Charlie looked in the mirror on the far wall to see herself. Outside of standing up on a wooden box, the pale purple dress was very pretty on her. "I wish I could ever afford something like this." She bit her lip realizing her wish was folly. "I'd never have anywhere to wear it anyway."

"I'm sure you have plenty of dates and places to go in this. It's not that pricey."

Charlie, for one of the few times, really felt sad for herself. If she was still with her parents, she'd be in college by now, able to wear dresses like this, and have a more realistic guarantee of much brighter future. Her ego was slowly standing aside and letting her entertain the idea that she could return home. She'd sent her mother and father a few emails from an anonymous email account she opened at a local public library computer, reassuring them she was well. They did try to email her on their own but once she had read the first and experienced their pleadings which turned into guilt trips, she didn't open any subsequent email.

She'd called home once at the beginning of the summer, to tell her mother about the miscarriage and to assure her that she was ok and that she needed time to become whoever she was meant to be from this point forward. She promised to call again soon, but never did make the call. She couldn't take listening to her mother cry over the telephone. She knew that she was being selfish but so much in her life changed when she found out she was pregnant. She had to do some things first, only she didn't know what they are.

"Adrianne, I really have fun doing this, but why don't you just get a dummy to model your stuff? You shouldn't have to wait for me to show up to complete your work."

"I don't know. I think it means more to me to have blood stains on the fabric when I sew."

Charlie laughed, the pain of the most recent pin stick still fresh with her. "Seriously, why me?"

Adrianne started to undress, taking off her frumpy over-sized sweater and large scarf. "See, I wish that I could wear these clothes, but they would never look good on me."

"Are you kidding?" Charlie was surprised by her unsuspected disrobing. While she was wearing a t-shirt under the sweater, Charlie realized that Adrianne wasn't an overweight insecure woman wearing oversized clothes like a suit of armor. In fact, from the chin down, she looked exactly like Charlie.

"I don't get it! You are the same size I am. We could be twins."

"That's what Mrs. K. says but I can't see myself like that. If you wear them while I piece them together, then I can at least get an idea of what I'm supposed to look like in them."

"Adrianne, that's so sad!" Charlie jumped down and uncharacteristically hugged her around the neck, immediately recoiling as the pins in the dressed being assembled poked them both. "Yikes!"

"Go take that off and we'll do another."

Charlie went to the changing area behind the racks and handed the newly assembled dress to Adrianne. "I still don't understand, why me."

"I lost some weight."

"Some?"

"Okay, I lost almost 200 pounds over the last three years."

"That's amazing! You should be so proud."

"Yeah," Adrianne had a sad smile. "I just can't look in the mirror. No matter what I do, I still see the same old overweight me." Miles Davis played in the background as Adrianne glanced toward the mirror on the wall.

Charlie saw this from behind the rack. "Maybe we should play some reggae instead of jazz? It may make for a better mood."

Instead of changing the music, Adrianne changed the subject of the conversation. "You can come out. It'll take a little while to get the next one ready."

Charlie slipped on a robe hanging behind the tri-fold partition and went and sat in a chair near the designers table. She squeezed the collar up around her chin. "This is sooooo soft." She purred.

Adrianne smiled at her but couldn't mask a deeper sadness. "Have you checked out the new "fashion mall" down near the financial?"

"No, what is it?"

"They spent millions to renovate an old building downtown near financial. It has a plaza inside with stores around the edge, all inside. They have a diamond store, a couple of boutiques and a spectacular coffee shop."

Knowing she could never shop there she was still curious. "Is that all?"

"I think for now it is. Mrs. K said that they were going to have stores going up almost five stories and then the top five floors would be very upscale apartments, not that I could ever afford one."

Charlie swatted her table. "Are you crazy? Don't answer that!" She laughed. "You'll have your own boutique there one day. Your designs are so pretty! I'd love to have all of them."

"Thanks but pretty isn't what sells. Have you seen this stuff that everyone is gaga over lately on television? It's so edgy that I could never dream it up!"

Charlie thought of the poster with the duct tape and the clam shell. "I don't think edgy is your style. You're modern and classy. I think you'd be surprised. There are plenty of people out there who prefer beautiful over edgy any day."

To her surprise, Adrianne seemed to anger. "What are you, twenty? How would you know?"

"I'm eighteen and I know a lot."

"You're just a baby! I'm twenty four and I still feel wet behind the ears."

Trying not to have her feelings hurt, Charlie backed down. "I would still love to wear them. I may be your only fan but I love what you make."

"Thank you." She paused. "I'm sorry for getting mad. Lanye tells me all the time I need to be more edgy and I'm struggling with it."

"I know Mrs. K knows what she's talking about, but this is _your_ style, not hers."

### Chapter 2

"Pass those saltines over here." Armando said as he leaned across the stack of well-worn poker cards.

Man-Charlie pushed him back. "You're on the cards. You ain't going to be cheating this time." He made a show of reaching in Armando's pocket and pulling out a couple of the cards.

"Me cheat? Never!" He managed to look hurt.

He dug out a handful of saltines that Charlotte had bought at the corner market that afternoon on her way back from the garment district. She had almost two hundred dollars in her pocket but thought it best to keep that to herself. Instead she splurged in buying saltines and a six-pack of cheap diet soda that she shared with the poker players. She kept it cheap to lessen any potential questions about how she could afford something expensive.

"Can I have some too?" A quiet young man named Vince asked. He smiled when she offered him a sleeve of the crackers. "Pass them over to Goliath over there, when you get some."

Goliath was one of those nicknames that you get exactly because of your size, not as a sarcastic opposite nickname, like "Tiny" or "Mouse." Goliath was huge and he filled the entire end of the large cabinet box they were all huddled in around a single small flashlight and a stack of playing cards. They'd found this furniture factory a while back and learned that the cardboard boxes were huge that the cabinet parts were delivered in. They'd assemble a couple of them together and make a nice temporary living space, especially on nights like this – cold, thunder-storming, and too far from the mission to take shelter.

"Girlie are you going to play?" Man-Charlie asked her. "We can play with five."

She smiled and bowed out, "Not tonight guys. I'm just an innocent bystander. I need to learn how to play first before I try to beat you guys down at your own game."

"Innocent." Vince snorted and then choked back his laugh. His attempt at humor drew some glares from the other men.

"Be nice." Charlie said. She was sure he didn't mean anything by it, not really, but he was new enough that Goliath would pound on him if he needed to. Goliath was the reason that no one messed with Charlotte. He was her protector and had beaten up more than one thug who made bad comments to her. She didn't ask for it and she didn't necessarily like it, but it was good to feel some security. Fortunately he was a gentle soul and not like the Biblical Goliath.

"Alright men, here we go, let's play some poker. Aces, deuces, and one-eyed jacks are wild." He told her about the face cards having more than once face. Some are full portrait with two eyes while some are in profile, only showing one.

Man-Charlie dealt the cards out to everyone as the thunder hammered the air over their heads and the rain hammered the cardboard of their roof. It was already starting to feel soggy to the touch.

They all looked at their cards, and threw down their outcasts. "I'll take two," said Goliath.

"I'll take two also," said Armando.

"I'll take four." Vince said, glaring at the dealer. "These are horrible cards."

"Looks like Vince has at least an ace in his hand, or maybe a wild card. The dealer is going to take three." He handed out the desired cards. "Goliath, you can start the bet."

He studied his cards and then wagered. "I'll bet one."

Vince cursed and threw down his entire hand.

"I'll see you and raise you one. I'm in for two," Armando offered.

Goliath threw in his cards, "too many for me."

"I want to raise you but I think I'll call instead." Man-Charlie offered to Armando who was looking smug and cocky. "Let's see them."

They both laid down their hands, showing their cards. Armando swung his hands, "Are you kidding me?" He had a pair of tens and Charlie had a pair of Queens.

"I win the first hand! Hand it over!"

Armando reaches into an inner pocket and pulls out a sharpened pencil. "I believe two was the bet." Armando nods.

Girl-Charlie is confused. "You're playing poker for pencils?"

Man-Charlie looks at her, "No dear, we're playing for holes."

"Huh?"

He leans over with the pencil, like he was going to write on Armando's face. Instead he quickly jabs two holes in the cardboard ceiling directly over Armando. Rain instantly begins to drip onto Armando's head. "See he bet two and lost. He got two."

Girl-Charlie erupts in laughter, the most she'd had since leaving home. Armando sullenly looks at her as twin drips of water hit him on top of the head. "You play next time and we'll see how funny it is."

An hour later, all of them were soaked from the dozen holes poked in the box, including Charlotte who was a good sport and joined in, losing three hands I a row. Her hair was plastered to her head when she relented for the night.

"Guys, I'm tired and now I'm wet. I want to go dry off and get some sleep." She kissed them all on the cheek, including Vince, who blushed furiously. "Let's play again when it's not raining so hard."

"Then it wouldn't be any fun," Goliath offered, then, "Goodnight Charlotte," as she crawled out of the giant box and made her way to her usual doorway.

She heard Man-Charlie yell from the box, "Say your prayers!"

"Alright, alright." She dried her hair with her one clean towel in her pack and then quietly said a prayer, thankful for the people in her life and also for Adrianne who she hoped would find her beauty soon.

She looked up at the sky outside of the deep doorway and thought for a moment she saw the moon through a break in the clouds. Just like the sun earlier, now the moon was reminding her that there was much more above the rain, you just had to look for it.

"I wonder if that's a metaphor for my life," she said out loud to no one. She uncovered her Louisville Slugger baseball bat that she kept hidden beside the doorway and propped it near her head. She wasn't totally defenseless.

• • •

The sun was shining brightly for a treat of a day. The temperature was comfortable and for a little while, all seemed right with the world. The little group of Charlie's friends decided to go to the park and try to have a pleasant day and to see about making a little pocket change.

Man-Charlie left for a little while and showed back up with some of his jewelry making supplies. Everyone knew better than to ask where they came from, because that sort of thing was deeply personal and out of bounds even for friendly lines of banter or questioning. He set up a very small table and right away began to make some small wristlets. He said they were much more than bracelets because they captured a small part of his spirit as he made them, putting himself into their artistry. When he was twisting the copper wires and selecting the perfect beads or bangles, Man-Charlie stopped being homeless and Charlie was able to see him for the artisan he is.

Goliath turned out to be the surprise for everyone that morning, however. From his dirty old green gym bag, he pulled out a giant box of chalks. In no time at all, he had begun a portrait of Marilyn Monroe right there on the sidewalk. It was so good that the usually rude city people were quickly sidestepping his work instead of treading across it. Some even stopped to watch and commented at his skill. Charlie stood open mouthed at the talent this mountain of a man was exhibiting.

"Hey Charlotte!" A voice came up behind Charlie. She cringed because she hated being called by her proper name, but turned to see who it was.

"I brought my guitar. Feel like singing today?" The girl said. Kate, the girl holding the instrument was a local college student who was scrounging to keep her head above water while attending her classes. She wasn't really any better off than the rest of them other than that she had a purpose and a real direction in her life. She would soon have a college degree and a promise of a real career. In the meantime, she would often bring her guitar to the park and play for change from the tourists. If Charlie sang with her, she would split it with her.

"Sure! I feel sort of left out around all of this artistic skill today! Maybe I can add a little of my own." She doubted her voice was very good but when she sang, she managed not to be able to hear it. She didn't know if it was a curse or a blessing being able to ignore her own song.

Kate tuned her guitar and played a few experimental chords. "I'm ready when you are."

"Go right ahead. If I know the words I'll join you."

They all played, chalked, and sold wristlets for several hours. Charlie really enjoyed singing and she enjoyed that it made her smile to sing along with her part-time musical friend. She got lost in the music and often just sat and sang with closed eyes.

"You both perform beautifully!" an older woman congratulated them as she tossed a few dollars into Kate's guitar case.

Charlie opened her eyes to thank the woman and her voice caught in her throat. There, in eye contact with her, was the mother of the most evil little girl she'd ever known. Memories of bullying and harassment from years of grade school flooded into her mind. The mother looked at her quizzically, recognizing her, but not knowing from where.  
"I know you."

"You do look familiar to me too. I bet I saw you somewhere else today." Charlie quickly added trying to stop any further attempt to solve the mystery in her mind. She looked over to Man-Charlie and there was Amelia, the bully from school, scornfully appraising his work.

"I'll be back in a few minutes," she said to Kate and quickly got up to go toward the public restroom behind them. Her breath was quick and her heart was pounding in her chest. She couldn't let the woman recognize her. Her parents would have gotten a call before the night fell. She also couldn't let Amelia see her. She couldn't stand the ridicule and the shame of _that_ girl knowing how she was living.

When she peeked back out from the bathroom, the pair had gone. She went back out and sat with Kate to sing the rest of the afternoon. Like clockwork, just before the street lights came on, two police officers came walking through, stopping to talk to each of the performers, artists, beggars, or just loiterers, telling them the park was about to close. One of the cops, a much younger one, handed Charlie and a few others a five dollar bill. She was quite surprised by his generosity.

"How can I call you a pig and spit on you when you do stuff like that?" She asked him.

He laughed and told her that if she were just a few years older, she'd be in real trouble.

"What? It's against the law to be in your twenties now?"

"No!" he protested. "I'd have to ask you to marry me!"

She blushed realizing that she was being flirted with, and turned away. When she looked back, he had walked on and handed some cash to an old man sleeping on a bench, just before making him leave.

"Nice guy," she said.

"Yeah, he was," Kate said, closing up her guitar case. "Here's your cut. We made twenty apiece."

Charlie accepted the hand full of change and bills, shoving them in her pocket. "Thanks Kate. I'll see you around." Just like that, their business was done and they would start again the next time they saw each other.

Goliath stood over his completed portrait of the movie starlet and others stood around looking with him. There were oohs and a couple of comments about how life-like it looked. One man said it looked like a photograph. Man-Charlie bragged on Goliath by telling the small crowd that he had drawn it from memory.

• • •

"Hey girlie! Let's go eat!" she heard Charlie yell from around the corner. "I can smell bacon in the air!"

She groaned and rolled over, reaching for her hairbrush in the side pocket of her pack and her toothbrush. "Give me a minute."

"Hurry! The bacon awaits!"

"That's just your upper lip you're smelling old man!"

"Ha! Not a morning person still, are you!"

She grumbled some more and shoved her toothbrush into her mouth, reminding herself to buy something other than what the mission handed out for toothpaste. As she sucked on the toothbrush and spat into the gutter, she brushed through her short hair, which was now reaching for her shoulders. "Mom wouldn't recognize me now," she thought to herself, considering her hair was incredibly short when she first left home. Her stylist at the time said that boy-cuts were very popular in the cities this summer. She had news for her. She'd not seen the first girl with a boy-cut.

She hid her ever present baseball bat back in its secret place and straightened up the area. She didn't want to draw any unusual attention to herself or her sleeping place of choice. Also, she realized that the big red "for sale" sign in the window may one day receive some interest and she didn't want to discourage anyone from buying the building simply because she chooses to sleep in its doorway when she can.

"Girlie, are you cleaning up your bed room still?" Man-Charlie said as he walked around the corner, to witness her folding up a piece of cardboard that she lays on. He laughs, "Girl you won't do but I bet your mama would be very proud of your housekeeping skills."

"I have my reasons." She growled, still not quite in a jovial mood for the day.

"I'm sure you do, but that bacon is waiting."

"What is it about bacon? Why is it such a comfort food? Everything about a pig screams that it's dirty."

"I don't know but I sure do love it."  
"Me too, but seriously, ham, bacon, sausage – I crave them."

Man-Charlie chuckled, "you think way too much girlie. You should just be thankful and enjoy the flavor when we can get it."

"Oh I do!" She slings her pack over her shoulder. "Where are we going to eat this morning?"

"I thought we'd go over to the Catholic Church on 8th Avenue. They need some work done to get ready for the holidays and I figured I could lend a hand. Doesn't feel right always taking and not giving."

Charlotte clutched at her shirt over her chest and twisted it up in a fist and held her other hand to the air. "Please Lord don't strike him down! He is sincere in his desire to do good. He's not mocking a work ethic!"

Man-Charlie gave her a "p-sha" sound and his practiced evil eye. "Girlie don't you mock me like that. I do work from time to time." He looked at his palms. "Just seems that my palms have gotten soft over the years.

She laughed and patted him on the back. "It's ok, I promise. We know how it is for you old guys."

He looked serious as he studied his hands and then held them up for her to see. "These hands have done lots of things, Girlie. They were once hard with callous. They've held riches, and babies. They've twisted ropes and bread." He softens, "They have created and they have destroyed."

She hooks her arm in his and walks him down the sidewalk noticing the strange looks from the other pedestrians. She first wanted to let them think that she was an item with this much older man but she realized that there were tears on Man-Charlie's cheeks. She turns him to her.

"I'm so sorry! I didn't mean to hurt your feelings!" She hugged his neck and whispers into his ear, "Please don't be upset."

He squeezed her back. "You could never hurt me Charlotte-girl." He rarely ever used her name. "The only one who can hurt my heart like this is mine-own self. Memories can be ragged and tormenting. Sometimes I feel like my life is wasting away and I've never amounted to anything."

"Don't believe that!"

"It's the truth, I promise." He was reverting to his South Pacific accent. He was really in spiritual pain, she recognized.

"Let's go on to that church. I think maybe you need to talk to that Priest, and then do some work for him."

"Thank you but that's not what is hurting me so much." He takes a deep breath, and looks deep in her eyes. "I think it's time for me to leave."

"Leave, where would you go? You're not sick are you?"

"Yes I am sick, but not in my body." He pushes the toe of his shoe into the street dirt and flicks it up. "I'm tired of the filth. It stops me from feeling pure."

"I don't understand."

"Wait til you hit your forties, Girlie, that's when the feelings started and I ignored them for a lot of years. You start looking for meaning to your life and you realize how much of your life has already passed you by. It is regret and I regret a lot."

"What can I do to help?"

He smiles warmly at her, as her father often did. She could see love in his eyes, and it wasn't the romantic type that Vince looked like, although she doubted he actually knew what love was. "You've already helped me more than you know. You've made me feel like a real person. You've respected me and you've been a friend to me. I will always cherish what you and I have shared these few months."

"You're scaring me."

"I've talked to Goliath and one other about leaving, and they want to go to."

"Where are we going?"

"It's not a 'we' thing, Girlie. You're not like us. You're smart. You have a future ahead of you if you'll just reach out and grab it."

"What are you saying?"

"We've all got enough money together that we can each buy a one-way bus ticket to South Florida. We'll probably go somewhere like Miami or Ft. Lauderdale."

"I've got enough money to do that too! I got paid some yesterday. I just didn't tell anybody."

"Smart girl, never tell anyone when you have money."

"I can buy a ticket too."

"I don't want you to come."

"But why?" She was starting to cry herself. "What have I done wrong?"

He thought about it for a moment, wrestling with the right way to say what was on his mind.

"What have you done wrong? I don't know if I'd say it that way, but you have a chance at a real life and a good future. You're abandoning it. People are starting to realize that, although you never tell anyone." He takes a deep breath to continue, "You are different Charlotte."

There he goes using her name again. This was serious. "We all recognize that you're not like us. Back in the back of your mind, you know it too." He sees the tears on her cheeks and gives her a fatherly hug. "It's time for you to go home. Winter will be here soon and it's not fair what you are doin' to your mudder and fadder."

"This is my home. I want..." He shushes her.

"No dear one, this is not your home. This is not your home at all. You do not belong here."

"I'm not going anywhere!" She yelled this and stomped off down the sidewalk, not looking back to see if he was following her. "He can't dismiss me from this city like that. He just can't."

She wipes the tears off of her cheeks with the backs of her sleeves. She was surprised that she let him get so close to her, emotionally. She never intended to ever be vulnerable to anyone, certainly not a man, a fatherly man.

Man-Charlie didn't go after her. He had seen her stick out her bottom lip like that before and he knew that there was no chance of him changing her mind right then. He'd have to work on her and get her to think it through. They hadn't planned on leaving for Florida for a few more days anyway. He'd lost his craving for bacon for the morning.

• • •

Charlie wandered through the garment district again, gazing into the windows and seeing things that she would do differently on a variety of the outfits being shown off behind the glass. She would use a different pattern here or a different cut there. She would use a different stitch pattern here.

"What's wrong with them? Don't they realize that the stitches they are using won't last long?" She chuckled at the idea of a runway model finding a loose thread while on the runway, and tugging at it. The dress would just fall apart on the stage. That would be too funny, she thought.

She wandered through the truck loading area and saw Mrs. K outside of her door. She waved at Charlie and smiled, her lipstick like a neon sign on her face. Charlie just smiled and waved back, keeping on walking through the area. She needed time to think about what her friend said to her. He said she needed to go home.

She intentionally didn't think about her parents or her home because it stirred up too many feelings inside of her, most of them unpleasant. There were a few that were good feelings, hidden well behind the memories of why she left home to start with. She did miss her few real friends and wondered where they were. She thought that they would probably be getting ready to go to school. None of them were quite like her and able to graduate early.

They would be passing each other in the hallways. They would laugh and enjoy each other and then go to their classes where they would sit and learn things from people supposedly smarter than they are. They would eat lunch in the cafeteria, from plastic bags or colorful lunch bags and talk about what they were going to do that weekend, who liked whom, or what other gossip older teens engaged in.

They wouldn't be walking a big city street alone, with dirty clothes, only getting a good shower maybe once a week, getting their food from charity kitchens or wondering what menace would loom out of the next dark alleyway. They got to be kids. They had dreams. She didn't and it made her angry.

Once she miscarried the baby she subconsciously stopped planning for the future. She didn't realize it until this morning when Man-Charlie talked about moving to Florida, presumably for the winter, that she never made any plans beyond the next few hours. She remembered a time when she had plans and goals that spanned years, not hours.

"What have I become?" She thought to herself out loud.

She kept on walking down the street and saw Adrianne's tiny little car pull into the parking lot in front of her. She didn't know she had a car. She just saw her behind the wheel and walked up to her when she parked.

"I didn't know you have a car." She said as she opened the door, startled by her quiet approach.

"Oh! Charlie! How are you?"

"I'm good, how are you?"

"I'm good too. Going to go check out the new design mall. You got me to thinking about opening my own place there."

"That's great!"

"Mrs. K didn't think so, at first. I had to promise that if I ever did get my own shop, I'd have to still do design for her."

"That's job security."

"She said that she loved my edgy fashion sense." She smiled shyly.

"See! I told you that you were the only one who thought badly of your work."

"We'll see how it all goes."

She put her arm through Adrianne's just like she'd done Man-Charlie earlier and walked toward the building but Adrianne stopped her. "Do you want to put your backpack in my car for now? Those people in there might try to judge you for living in the street."

Charlie was stunned to silence. She didn't know that Adrianne was aware of her living situation. She started to stammer out an excuse.

"Hey don't sweat it. I've known since I met you the first time."

"I'm embarrassed. I don't know what to say."

"It's okay. It was none of my business and still isn't. Those people in there," She points toward the glass building, "will pretend to make it their business and turn up their snobby noses at you."

"Sure," she took her pack off and handed it to Adrianne who locked it in the trunk of the car.

"We'll get it back when we leave."

"Ok." She realized that she had just locked all of her worldly possessions in another person's car. If she left, she could lose everything not that she thought Adrianne would steal her stuff. She didn't have anything.

"Do I look ok to go in?" She became self-conscious now that Adrianne had revealed what she knew.

Adrianne moved a stray lock of hair from Charlie's face. "There, now you're perfect. Remember, shabby is chic these days." She smiled.

"I'm certainly chic then!"

They approached the front of the mall and Charlie noticed that there were security cameras everywhere. "They sure have a lot of security for a bunch of clothes stores."

"Not just clothes. It's the diamonds. There is a brokerage in here now." She leans close to Charlie's ear. "I heard that they want to be the biggest diamond broker and have a ton of loose stones in a safe in the back."

Charlie shrugged, not really impressed. She'd always been more of a sapphire type of girl, never one to be turned on by diamonds. "So they are for the rich people? Is that what you're saying?"

"Not really. I think they want to be a source provider and sell to the jewelry stores and designers. You can look at their store but only by appointment and you can't actually browse."

"That really is snooty!" Charlie used a posh accent and pointed out her pinky finger.

"There is a small window you can look at, but it's usually nothing more than decorative boxes or a poster."

Charlie laughed, remembering the poster of the nearly nude woman and the diamond bracelet. "I know exactly what you're talking about!" She laughed some more, "Duct tape and a sea shell!"

Adrianne looked her puzzled, "How did you know? Have you been here already?"

"No, there are others..."

"Well let's go in." They pushed through the large and ornate revolving door. They could feel the air pressure change as the large door revolved. Bright lights lit them from above, obviously for the security cameras visible everywhere.

The two young women walked in to the large atrium-like lobby of the fashion mall. There was a security guard by the door. He was armed and Charlie noted that too. "Fashion police? She asked, barely able to contain another laugh.

Adrianne snorted and then choked it back, trying to maintain her decorum. "Please! I want to be a peer here some time, not a giggly girl!"

Charlie stopped grinning so largely at the security officer who probably thought she was flirting anyway. "Yes, ma'am. I'll try and be more proper."

They walked around in a large circle, taking in the marble, glass and brass that seemed to be the primary source of opulence. "Look how everything around the mall is sort of dulled, drawing your eyes to the display windows of the shops. They are advertising and drawing you in without you even being aware that they are doing it.

Charlie was amazed that she hadn't caught that. It was true. The farther you got from the windows, the less flashy and more mundane everything looked. It made you focus on the windows. "That's too cool! I never would have noticed if you hadn't said something."

"I bet you want some hot chocolate right now, too."

Charlie thought about it for a moment and then agreed, "Yes! How did you know?" She looked around for some sort of obscure subliminal messaging.

"Turn around." She did.

"That little coffee shop is using the same type of merchandising tactics. They have a couple of small fans that blow outward from the store. It carries the smell out into the atrium and draws you in. They have my favorite; mint-hot chocolate."

"You come here a lot don't you?"

"I started coming here while it was still under construction. I met one of the engineers and he told me about a lot of the design." Her cheeks turned a little pink while she talked.

"Ah, you had a crush on him." Charlie caught on.

"No! He's married."

"Doesn't change anything. You were crushing!" Charlie danced away from her, toward the coffee shop. "Come on. I'll treat to hot chocolate while you tell me everything."

Adrianne hesitated. "I didn't have a crush on a married man." She smiled. "He was just very smart and liked what I had to say. It was all professional. I promise."

"I was kidding! I know you would never do that! Come get some chocolate with me."

They sat at the wrought iron table and drank their hot chocolate. Adrianne bought some Italian coffee cookies which they both enjoyed. They spent probably an hour sitting there, noticing a couple of celebrities that tried hard to not be noticed. Adrianne also pointed out all of the shops and told Charlie about the designers that ran the products in them.

"That one right there," she pointed to one in the corner, "is a fraud. I know that designer and there's no way she's making what they have in their window. Her greatest creation was a custom painted tennis shoe. Mrs. K thinks that they are using "interns" to do the work." She made quotes in the air with her fingers when she said interns. "They bring in students with hopes of working for a large design house, challenge them, and then steal their ideas."

"How do they get away with that?"

"They call it a work product. They have them sign all kinds of waivers to intern. The interns are happy to just be working and having someone look at their designs. They don't care what happens to them as long as they get to climb that career ladder."

"Did you do that?"

"No, Mrs. K, rescued me from the street and when she saw I could design a turtle neck sweater that didn't scream 'old maid,' she offered me a job."

"You were homeless?"

"Yes and no. I was a runaway. I had a home to go to but thought I was too good or too smart for them so I stayed in the street." Adrianne looked at her waiting for a response.

Charlie, on the other hand, thought that Adrianne knew more about her than she let on and was taunting her or trying to teach her a lesson of some sort. It made her mad. "What are you trying to pull?"

Adrianne blinked. "What do you mean?"

"Are you trying to play some mean game with me?"

"Why in the world would you think that? I've never told anyone about where I came from. I thought maybe you would understand."

"Mrs. K didn't put you up to it?"

"No! She doesn't know I'm here. She'd probably fire me if she knew I spent so much time here."

Charlie began to calm down greatly. "So what about your shop? Where would it go?"

Adrianne quickly raised her hand to point over Charlie's head, "Right there!" It'll be above the diamond broker. That place is so mysterious, people will have to look up to the second floor and see my place. That's what that merchandizing engineer told me, anyway."

"It makes sense to me. Can we go see it?"

"It's not mine yet."

"I know that. I just want to see what it looks like from up there."

"I'm pretty sure that the upstairs is still locked off since they've only completed the ground floor."

"Oh come on, I sleep in the street. I can handle sneaking around a construction site."

"I may be a bit rusty."

"I'm sure you're remember just fine."

The two young women found a fire-stair that was unlocked and sneaked up to the next floor. The stairwell was packed with construction supplies and several really large new-looking duffle bags. Those got the girls attention but they walked past to go out on the landing of the next walkway to look down. They leaned over and looked down into the atrium. It wasn't too high but the marble floors made it look much taller than it really was. They only jumped back when the security guard looked up at them.

They crouched behind the railing. "Do you think he saw us?" Adrianne asked.

"I don't know."

"I don't want to get in trouble in this building."

"Just act like you belong here. Soon, you will."

They both stood up and looked over. The security guard was still staring at them. He winked at Charlie and she waved back coyly.

"Well we're busted." Adrianne said. "Right there is where I want my shop to go." She pointed at the doorway beside them.

"That's awesome! It's right in front of the revolving doors. It'll be the first thing you see when you walk in. You'll need neon!"

"They won't allow neon. It's too gaudy but I'll figure a way to draw your attention."

"I'm sure you will." She looked back at the security guard who was still staring. He gave a subtle head gesture for them to come back down, so they did, not wanting to push their luck.

Back in the stair well some equipment stored there caught their attention. Having both lived on the street, the presence of the black bags bothered them. They were too new compared to all of the old equipment stacked up and strewn around the area. Adrianne speculated that there was some great marvel of merchandising hidden inside of them. Charlie was just curious. Their curiosity getting the best of them, they were about to open one of the bags when the stairwell door began to open below them. The security guard stuck his head in. "Ladies time for you to come down, please."

They both laughed, "We're on our way." They went down the stairs and turned sideways to sidle past him holding the door open. Adrianne introduced herself as a designer planning on opening up a shop at the shop above them. She pointed to where they were standing.

"I'm pleased to meet you." He shook her hand, his own swallowing hers. "Are you a designer too?" He asked of Charlie.

"Me? Heavens no. I don't have a creative bone in my body. I just wear the clothes she makes."

Wanting to carry on the quasi-ruse, Adrianne jumped in. "She's a model! She models what I design." The guard looked at Charlie again, his eyes widening, apparently he'd been skeptical at first, considering how Charlie was dressed and looked.

"I can see her modeling. She has striking facial features." He looked closer at her. "How old are you?"

Charlie was about to concoct a lie for him but Adrianne again jumped in. "She's old enough to know better than to get mixed up with the likes of you!" She winked and punched the guard in the large bicep. He laughed.

"I have to lock up so if you'll excuse me." He turned, producing a ring of odd looking keys. "Extremely high security, you know." He locked the door. "I hope you'll keep your excursion upstairs to yourselves."

"Mum's the word," Charlie offered. "By the way, where is the little girl's room?"

The guard pointed between two large potted palms. "You'll go over there. The little boys room," he snickered, "is across the atrium."

"Me too," said Adrianne.

"Figures," said the guard, his chauvinism showing, "you all move in herds." He returned to his post by the revolving door.

• • •

"Oh my goodness!" was all Charlie could say as she pulled open the door to the women's restroom. She was bathed in a while light that reflected off of the ornate fixtures and marble floors. "This looks like a ball room!"

Adrianne followed her in, "yeah, it's nicer than where I live." She stopped suddenly, realizing that she'd just complained about where she lived, knowing that Charlie didn't even have a roof to sleep under. "I'm sorry."

Charlie waved her off as she walked in looking the place over. "This sink is huge. I could wash my hair in here and not touch the sides." She put her hands in the sink and warm water automatically came pouring out. She put her hands under a different looking nozzle and a scented foam soap poured out for her. She looked up searching for some way to dry her hands.

"Just hold them there. I did this the other day myself." Adrianne offered, and Charlie did, waiting. Soon a blast of heated air came from the same faucet that gave her the water. She rubbed her hands briskly.

"Too cool!" Charlie exclaimed walking toward a toilet stall.

"Wait till you see the stalls..." Adrianne said just as she threw the door open to reveal the small room behind. Charlie was amazed. There was a small sitting area _before_ you even got to the toilet.

"Hey there's a bench in here with a full length mirror – and a toilet!" She laughed.

"This is a fashion mall. A lot of people will come in here and change clothes to wear their new purchases outside to show off."

"Why don't they change in the stores?"

Feigning being affronted, "Are you kidding? That would be so gauche to wear something out of the dressing room. You change in an exclusive public restroom instead!" She laughed, making air quotes when she said "public.".

Charlie laid back on the bench. "This is comfortable! I could take a nap here."

"No, that's why the walls don't go to the floor and you can see under. People can see if someone is in there and it prevents anyone from staying too long."

Charlie bent over and peered under the door at Adrianne, "You mean these are for the voyeuristic?"

"Absolutely not!"

"But you said people come in here...oh wait, never mind. Ugh, I know what you're saying."

Adrianne laughed again. "You're such a country mouse!"

"Squeak, squeak," She replied, quite mouse-like.

• • •

"So there is an armed security guard at the door and cameras everywhere. It's an amazing place." Charlie excitedly told Man-Charlie about what she'd seen that day. "I think I know how to spend the night in there."

"You don't want to go to jail for something like that, Girlie."

"Well, if you're going to run out on me and not let me come along I have to do something!"

"I'm not running out on you. You need to go home and you're not going to do it if we all stay here with you."

"So that's it? You're all going to run away so I'll feel abandoned and run away myself?"

"No, it's not like that..."

"Yes it's exactly like that. You're going to abandon me just like he did. You're going to leave me all alone just so you'll feel better about yourself."

"I don't know what you're talking about, girlie, but it's got nothing to do with feeling better _about_ myself. It's just the right thing to do. Besides, I want to be able to take my shoes off and walk along the ocean. I want to be able to wear my short pants all the time. I'm not made for cold weather. I'm an Islander, remember?"

"So you want to just ease your guilt because you've made me reliant on you for support and you want to run away. 'Go home girlie, so I don't have to feel guilty about leaving you to go to the beach' is exactly what you're trying to tell me."

"It's not like that at all!"

"Yes it is!"

"Your immaturity is shining through Charlotte. You need to take me at my word. I have a bus ticket for tomorrow night at nine o'clock. You need to go get one to take you back home. I'll pay for it for you."

"Who do you think you are? You can't make me leave if I don't want to! I came to this city without you! I can surely live here without you!"

"But I don't want..."

"I don't care what you want. You stay away from me. Go on to Florida. Take your friends and you run away. Don't look back at me." She grabbed up her back pack and went around the corner and got her baseball bat, hiding it uncomfortably under her jacket between her back and her pack. She made for the park. No more dentist office doorways for her. No more Man-Charlie, Goliath or whoever the other one going with them is.

"Good riddance," She screamed into the night air.

She walked deep into the park and without realizing it began to emerge from the other side which was very near the fashion mall that she and Adrianne had spent the day in earlier. She began to hatch a plan to make her way inside for the next night. Tonight she would be sleeping under the stars. "I'm glad it's not raining." She said to no one.

As she walked down the sidewalk, she noticed blue and red lights strobing in the trees overhead. It created a bit of a surreal carnival atmosphere with the lights bouncing around the leaves. She crested a small rise and saw a police car parked behind an ambulance, both with their emergency lights on. She approached behind the small crowd that had gathered behind the hastily erected police tape.

"What happened?" she asked of a man holding a small posh looking apartment dog.

"It was brutal!" He shook his head. "I got here right after it happened. He was so brutal!"

"What happened?" she asked again.

"That girl was beaten." He pointed to a shroud draped shape.

"Is she dead?"

"As a door nail!"

"Who did it?"

"They don't know. They haven't caught him yet," He looked around conspiratorially, "but I saw him. I saw him sneak away."

"Did you tell the police? What did he look like?"

"He had on a short sleeve white shirt that had a gold piping around the cuff of the sleeve." He paused, "He also had on black pants and black tennis shoes."

"A stripe?"

"It was one of those polo shirts like the fashionable kids wear. Like a polo uniform." He rambled, "I hope you stay away from him. He punched that girl three or four times and then ran away."

He pointed back towards the perimeter street. "The cops won't believe me. They say I report too much."

"What do you mean?"

"I tend to call the police too much. They say I'm a paranoid."

"I understand." She said, now wondering if he was a crazy guy. "I have to go."

"You be careful out there! Say your prayers tonight!"

She spun on him, "What?"

"Be careful out there!"

"I will." Maybe she just imagined the older man telling her to say her prayers like Man-Charlie was so fond of doing.

She found a small nook next to a utility box. It was humming quietly and was warm. She put her back against it and laid down under her specialty store blanket. As long as it didn't rain, she would be just fine for the night. Her baseball bat was in her hand as she slept, just in case the guy who beat the other girl came back. She said a quick prayer before closing her eyes for the night. "It must be an old guy thing," she thought to herself.

• • •

Charlie woke up stiff and angry. Her body ached from sleeping directly on the hard ground instead of her usual cushion of stacked cardboard. She was angry that she was now officially a "park person," someone she swore that she would never become. The park people were those who were like you see in the zombie movies. They just seem to wander about aimlessly with no destination in mind or any kind of purpose. She'd always planned on where she would spend her nights and disliked the spontaneity of sleeping next to the humming utility box. She was especially uncomfortable now that the illusion of her male protectors was gone.

The killing in the park left her shaken, even though she had no idea how it happened, who did it, or who the victim was. She preferred to think of it like the news broadcasts always promoted it, "A drug deal gone bad." So far, the drug deals she'd witnessed were swift, silent and with as little drama as possible. Those that had the chance to go bad as the news would say, or involve such violence probably involved territorial arguments, large transactions or outright robbery. She doubted that her baseball bat would dissuade anyone from coming after her if they were truly interested in doing her harm.

She pulled her backpack from under her head and dragged out her toothbrush and smeared on some of the chalky toothpaste. She shoved it into the back of her mouth and held it with her back teeth as she closed the top of the pack. She decided to keep covered up in her blanket for the time being, not wanting to let the sun shine in on her just yet. She was angry and wanted to be angry for a little while at least.

As she scrubbed at her teeth, sans water, she thought back over her life of the last two days. She'd made some good money wearing fancy clothes, lost her best friend because he thought he knew what was best for her, lost her sleeping spot, became a park person, and saw a dead body, albeit under a covering. They started off ok, and ended in a rotten way. Was Man-Charlie right? Was it time for her to go home? She shook her head as she peeled back the edge of the blanket and spat the toothpaste into a bush. She squinted her eyes and looked around. She didn't see anyone lurking to do her harm, other than a jogger dressed head to toe in yellow spandex who looked more like a running banana caricature than a desperate killer of young women.

Standing, she stretched out her arms and then twisted her back at the hips, working out the kinks. She shook out her blanket marveling how dirt never seemed to cling to its "magical" forest green and gray surfaces. She first thought it was ugly when she bought it from the outdoor store, with the clerk explaining that it was intended for a "non-environmental impact" use by the owner, which included not introducing "offensive colors" to the outdoors. It worked well for her, when sleeping in doorways. The dark gray side had effectively camouflaged her in the shadows and the dark green side helped her blend in with her surroundings this night in the park.

"Ok, I admit it. I love it." She said out loud, validating the sales clerk's pitch to her months earlier. "It sheds water and dirt too. You're welcome!" She sighed, giving final validation for the clerk, although he had no idea she was saying it to the shrubs beside the utility box. Passers-by would think one of two things if they saw her do this: she was talking on a blue-tooth telephone device or she was stark-raving mad talking to imaginary people.

Her stomach growled angrily in protest to being empty for the night. She hadn't eaten the previous evening when she ran away from Man-Charlie and his fatherly over-tones. She stalked around the city and the park, preferring to be angry and ignoring her needs. She wanted oatmeal and bacon and decided to go to the church on 8th for the breakfast.

She knew she would run the chance of seeing her "old gang" but at that point, she didn't care. She was mad at all of them. They'd decided to move on, without even talking to her. Even worse, they'd made the decision that she should go home, without even talking to her. Man-Charlie just decided that he was going to impose their will on her, without regard what she thought she should do.

She slid the pack on her sore shoulders and headed across the park toward the 8th avenue outlet. She walked past the place the girl was killed the night before. She took a moment to consider her mortality – not her own, but of the dead girl. There was no chalk-outline, there was no police tape or warning cones with signs saying "A girl was tragically murdered right here on this very spot, last night." She was dead and the city moved on, oblivious that her life was snuffed out. She considered the baby she'd lost and felt a hitch in her chest. Where was the zest and love for life that people were supposed to have? Where was the respect?

There was a small stain on the asphalt walkway, about the size of a walnut. She kneeled down, and touched her hand to it. Was it blood or was it just a stain that had manifested over the years of pedestrian traffic? In a brief fit of melancholy she took off her pack and sat down where the dead girl lain the night before.

She looked around and no one was paying any attention to the homeless girl sitting in the middle of the large walking avenue. She knew that to the ordinary people, she was invisible and those that did see her tried their best to ignore her. They were 'above her.' She knew that because she'd been just like them in her past life which seemed like years ago instead of just a few months.

She laid back, where the dead girl had been just hours before, and stared at the blue sky above through the interlaced leaves of the tall Alder and Beech trees that the small conspicuous park signs identified them as. Clouds scudded across the sky occasionally casting more dancing shadow. She could feel the rough pebbling of the asphalt sidewalk under her. She thought back about the girl. Was the last thing she saw the moon over head or the face of her killer? Was she face up or face down when the end came? She turned her head and looked at the asphalt and wondered if the stain came from a trickle of blood from the girl's nose or mouth. A tear threatened to slip from her eye to crawl across her cheek. She grieved for the unknown girl, knowing that if her own life didn't change, she'd die just as anonymously. She never intended to be an anonymous nobody. She thought that a harsh and cruel fate.

A man pushing a trash can with a large sidewalk broom stopped to look at her. His drab gray uniform had patches identifying him as a parks and recreation employee and his name on the other side, "Hank." On his name, someone had used a ball-point pen and crossed out the 'a' in Hank and written in a 'u' transforming him into a "hunk." Charlie laid there looking at the man and the ridiculousness of the situation broke through her sadness and she barked out a laugh and rolled over on her side.

"Are you okay?" he asked.

"Yes, I'm fine." She stood up. "Did you know a girl was murdered right there last night?" She pointed at the spot where she was laying.

"No, well, yes, I did hear that someone died in the park last night."

"It was right there."

He stared at the spot and at the stain, withdrawing a small hand broom from his cart. "Turn around," he ordered.

"What?"

"Turn around, I'll dust you off."

She complied and very much the gentleman, he used the small broom to sweep dust and an errant leaf part from her shoulder. "Thank you, Hank."

"You're very welcome."

"Or...should I call you Hunk?"

He laughed. "My daughter did that the other morning. She didn't realize that it wouldn't wash out."

"I think it's adorable. It made my day a whole lot better. You make sure to tell your daughter that it made a sad, homeless girl laugh."

His handle-bar mustachioed upper lip curled into a smile. "I'll tell her exactly what you said."

She put her pack back on and put her ball bat in his trash can as he began sweeping at the area with the large broom. He stopped long enough to give her a parting goodbye.

"You never know when you'll encounter an angel." He looked at the bat handle sticking out of the can, "or a ball player."

She looked back. "You're right." She blew a slow kiss to the spot where the girl died and gave a fingertip wave to the street sweeper.

Some unknown power had intervened in her day, turning it around. The interaction with Hunk, which made her giggle at every thought of the scrawled "u" on his patch, had lifted a huge weight from her shoulders.

She remembered doing small things like that for her father and how much fun she had poking fun at him from time to time. He was such a good sport and would endure no ends of humiliation by her machinations and would always act so proudly toward her. She thought back to the hurt look on his face when she told them that she was pregnant. She'd tried many times since then to interpret that look and failed. Was it disappointment? Was he ashamed? Most recently when she considered it, she began to realize that she was wrong about it. Her parents were _frightened_ for her and for what her future held. They loved her.

The walk to the 8th avenue outlet was less of a burden than her trek into the park the night before. The park was such a beautiful place and under different circumstances was a haven for people to feel safe and enjoy their time outdoors, either alone or with others. To her it was like an oppressive prison that she had to escape. She wanted to stop being a park person, even if for only the one night, and wanted to become a park visitor.

She crossed the street in the cross-walk, amid the throng of people rushing to get to work. She was an example of contrast amid the suited pedestrians and uniformed police officers that were at the street corners this time of the morning. She stopped at the little Indian-owned news stand and spent $5 on a telephone calling card that claimed to allow calls to India or Mexico for 60 minutes. She'd decided to try and call her parents after she ate some breakfast. Although she wasn't sure what she would say, she owed it to them to let them know that she was doing fine and not to worry. She also owed it to herself to remind herself from time to time that she really wasn't alone in the world and did have true roots somewhere.

• • •

The door to the church kitchen area was closed and locked. The sign on the door said that there had been a water leak the night before and there wouldn't be any breakfast served this morning. It also gave directions on how to contact the church administration if you were in desperate need of food and they would make sure you were taken care. She shook her head knowing full well that she wasn't in desperate need having eaten well the day before. She wouldn't become more of a parasite on their resources than she already felt. She did understand Man-Charlie's attitude about wanting to work for is hand-outs. They stopped becoming charity at that time and were earned. He was a proud man at some point in his life and he tried to maintain his pride in his current state of lifestyle disrepair.

Turning away, she almost runs into a pretty young woman approaching the kitchen. "They're closed," she said to her as she passed. "There's no bacon for any of us this morning."

The stranger ignored her at first, and then snapped her fingers. "I know you don't I? You're Adrianne's pin cushion?"

"Sometimes I am. She says I fit her patterns well."

"Me too. I wear them at the shows sometimes. First you wear them, then me. Kind of neat meeting up like this."

Charlie realizes that this girl is one of the designers show models. Why would she be here getting a free breakfast when they get paid so well?

"Are you here for someone?" She asked her.

"I come here when I can to try and help out. I have a friend who ran away to come to the city. I sort of hope that if I'm here enough, she'll turn up and I can take her home. The free breakfast is usually awesome besides, just don't tell anyone you saw me eating any of it!"

"Wow, you must be a really great friend for her."

"I do what I can. I don't mind the work. The lifting does keep my biceps in shape."

Charlie smiles at this. She thinks to herself that it has to be a full time job to stay looking good like she does. She sticks out her hand to shake. "I'm Charlotte, but my friends call me Charlie."

"Hello Charlie!" She shakes her hand warmly. "I'm Angie. My friends just call me Angie."

They both laugh for a little while, exchanging gossip about the designers. Soon Angie decides it's time for her to go to work and try to make a living.

"Keep up the good work with Adrianne. You two make me look good."

"I'll do that!"

"You know, you should give modeling a shot. I bet Mrs. K would let you."

Charlie waves a hand dismissively, "No, not this kid." She was inwardly proud to have someone like Angie say that too her.

"See you around! Say, we could meet up. Do you work here often?" Angie offered.

Charlie didn't feel up to sharing her living conditions with her new friend. "Something like that."

• • •

She stopped back by the same news stand that she'd visited earlier and bought a new-age, ultra-healthy, guaranteed to make you live longer type of granola bar. The small stick, the size of a regular candy bar, felt like it weighed a pound. "At least it'll be filling," she thought as she tore the wrapper open and bit into the carob coating. She strolled back through the alleyway and saw Mrs. K on her loading dock haggling with someone else. She waved at the older Asian woman.

"That woman argues with everyone!" Charlie said to herself.

"You girl! Come here!" she yelled with her exotic accent.

Charlie walked over to her, "Hi Mrs. K. What's up?"

The old woman virtually vaulted down from the four-foot ledge of the loading dock and hugged Charlie fiercely around the neck. Her pancaked makeup was streaked with tears. "I was so worried about you Charlotte love! We heard a girl was killed in park last night."

"It wasn't me! I did go by there not long after it happened though. I met a man you'd really enjoy having coffee with." She told the older woman about what she saw the night before in the park.

"I don't want you sleeping in the park anymore."

Charlie blanched, "I don't sleep in the park?"

"Isn't that were all of the park people go?"

Charlie cringed at the title. She'd been there one time and now Mrs. K was already labeling her that. "Um, Mrs. K. I don't live in the park."

Unbelieving, she pulled Charlie close to her and hugged her again. "Sure you don't." She pushed her back at arms-length still holding her by the biceps. "Charlotte you promise me. You promise me that if you need a place to stay, you come find me and let me take care of you. You're a good girl and a good worker."

"Like you did Adrianne?"

"Yes!" She squealed, "Just like Adrianne. Look at how successful she is now. You let Mrs. K help you when you need it."

"Thank you but I don't have any talent like Adrianne has. She's amazing. I just happened to fit what she makes."

The old woman pulled her close, putting her hand on her stomach, just as her mother did when she last saw her, feeling for the baby inside; only Mrs. K wasn't looking for a baby. "You too skinny!" She said, "You need to eat more."

"I'm fine! I promise."

"You promised, now you do it."

"I will!" Charlie laughed. "Is Adrianne here yet?"

"No, I not see her yet this morning. She comes and goes as she pleases lately. She wants to open a boutique over in the new mall."

"I know! She told me about how much you were willing to help her. I think it's great!"

"Yes, as long as she still design for me, I'll help her." Her bright red smeared lips broke into a big smile, "I'm very glad you're alive Charlotte, but I have to go back to work. You come back and see me soon, okay?"

"I will Mrs. K!" She gave the woman a quick hug and walked on toward the front street and toward the new fashion mall. She'd hoped to find Adrianne there and ask her about calling her parents. She wanted the other girl's opinion before she did it. It was natural to want to call home but she was also very nervous about making the call. She'd gone for several months with no contact and was sure that her folks would be justifiably angry. Thinking back now, she regretted putting them through so very much. She realized that her precocious intellect still lacked maturity. Man-Charlie pointed that out to her often, it seemed.

"They are leaving tonight!" She said out loud to herself. "I can't forget to go see them."

She pushed through the rotating door of the mall, not worrying about her backpack since the security guard now thinks she's a high-fashion model. She looked around the atrium and didn't see Adrianne. "She's probably still at home."

Looking at the security guard standing just outside the revolving door, she realized that it wasn't the same one who eye-flirted with her the previous day. He wore his black blazer like it was a coat of armor, with his chest all puffed out. "I bet he has a kung-fu grip," she snickered to herself. She couldn't see if he was armed like the other guy but given the posh element of this mall, he probably was.

Not knowing if he was going to tolerate her presence or her stares, she quickly made her way to the coffee shop and noticed that the scent of hazel nuts was wafting out. Their smell marketing was very effective because she now wanted some hazel nut coffee and she didn't even like hazel nuts or coffee. She bought a steaming hot cup of decadent chocolate and an overly large sugar cookie and took it to the "outdoor" café tables to enjoy. She grabbed a local weekly trade newspaper from a nearby table and thumbed through it looking at the pictures of the runway models. "I could do that but I'm too smart."

She again chuckled at her own wit. Here she was claiming to be too smart to be a model while she was homeless, surviving off of hot chocolate and sugar cookies, using money she made doing exactly what she claimed to be too smart to do. Oh the irony!

Finishing her expensive breakfast, she gathered up her pack and made her way toward the bathroom, pulling the door open ready to enjoy the opulence. Instead she was greeted by a smelly man holding a toilet plunger on the way out.

"Oh sorry, missy, the toilets are out of order for a little while."

"What about the sink? I really need to wash my hands."

"He looked back in. Just don't go in that one with the plastic around the bottom. We had some water problems last night."

"Yeah that's contagious."

"Huh?"

They passed in the doorway, her trying hard not to rub against him, not wanting to get any plumber's by product on her clothes. Despite sleeping in the street and in the park, she had no desire to encounter other people's waste.

She washed her hands using the hi-tech sinks, enjoying the experience just like the day before, and looked at the out of order bathroom stall behind her in the mirror over the sink. The plumber had taped a sign on the door that said "out of order" and then taped black plastic all around the bottom of the walls to prevent anything from creeping from the damaged plumbing into the adjoining stalls. She pushed open the stall door and looked in, curious for an entirely unknown reason to look inside at his work.

The small dressing area was spotless and the only sign he had been there was the black plastic sheeting that was taped to the walls and to the floor. There were a few pieces of galvanized pipe fittings laying on the floor beside the commode fixture, but other than that it was clean. She picked up what looked to be an extra, or scrap, piece of the galvanized pipe fittings. It still had a bar-code sticker on it so she deduced it wasn't used in sewer. It fit well into her backpack pocket. Now she was stealing plumbing parts.

She shrugged and headed back out the door, only to be met by the same plumber, now shouting into a cellphone that the part wouldn't be available until Monday, two days later and then yelling that he'd just close the stall and come back Monday with the part. She smiled as she walked by. With her friends leaving for Florida tonight, she would sneak back in and spend the night in the dressing room on that cushy bench, at least until he repaired the toilet on Monday, giving her the weekend to herself.

• • •

She strode around the corner into the alleyway where she found Man-Charlie, Goliath and Vince sitting on a wooden stair case that serviced a closed Thai restaurant. They all stood up when she approached, each smiling.

"There you are girlie!" Man-Charlie said walking toward her.

Goliath grabbed her up and hugged her, not saying a word while Vince stood behind him waiting his turn.

"We heard a girl was killed last night in the park but the cops wouldn't tell us who it was and we couldn't find you." Vince whined.

"Girlie, we thought it was you. We were worried."

Charlie got defensive and chastised all of them, "If you're so worried about me, then why are you running off to Florida tonight without me?"

The other two men looked at Man-Charlie. Goliath asked, "I thought you said she was going to go home to her family?"

He shrugged. "I tried to convince her and she wouldn't listen to me?

"Then she needs to come with us." Vince piped up. "She can't be here with a murderer running around."

"Since when do I need you guys to make decisions for me like I'm not standing here?" She fumed. She put her hand in her pocket and pulled out the calling card and showed them. "Know what this is?" They just looked on.

"It's a calling card. I'm going to call my mom in a little while."

"There ya go Girlie! You call your mama and papa. You tell them where you are."

She whirled on Charlie and pointed a finger at him, "don't you lie to them either. I told you I could buy a ticket to go to Florida with you."

Vince whined on, "But you won't. You don't want to be with us."

Charlie knew that Vince had a crush on her but he could really push too hard at times. "It's not about that Vince. I wasn't invited and I was also told you didn't want me to be with you all."

"You are supposed to go home to your family." Goliath said. "You have a family. You have to go home. It's not fair." She realized that Goliath was upset. She didn't really know anything about him. He as always just "there." He was ever present and always just the quiet sentinel. She put her hand on his large cheek and wiped away an eyelash with her thumb.

"Big guy, you've always been so good to me. You've never asked for anything. I don't even know your real name." He blinked his eyes but stayed silent. "I know you always look out for me."

"Girlie, we have to leave at nine. I hope you make that call soon. I'll feel better knowing that you won't be on the street tonight."

She couldn't help but give Man-Charlie a malevolent look even though she knows in her heart that he only wants what is best for her. It made her heart hurt for the second time in a day. It doesn't do to be so emotional all the time living on the streets. "I'm going to go make my call."

Putting her pack back on, she waved a goodbye to the guys. "I'll try to make it to see you off tonight at the bus station. If not, enjoy your fun in the sun." She was overly cheerful and obviously faking it as she walked toward the corner.

"Hey Charlotte!" Goliath yelled to her.

She stopped and waited.

"It's Bill! My name is Bill!"

She gave him a cheerful smile and a large wave, "It's nice to meet you Bill."

The other two looked at Goliath. They never knew his real name either.

• • •

The electronic voice prompted her to push the buttons. "For English press the number one. En Espanol oprima dos" She pressed the one button. "Please enter your sixteen digit calling code followed by the pound sign." She followed the directions of the computerized operator and put in all of the numbers necessary to call her mom and dad. The voice said, "Please hold," followed by several clicks and then the phone on the other end began to ring.

Charlie could feel her blood pressure going up right along with her anxiety of talking to her mother. She secretly hoped that they weren't at home and the answering machine would pick up, just as much as she wanted to talk to them. The phone continued to ring, three rings, four rings, five rings, then a click and another voice came on the line. She recognized it as her mother's but she sounded so desperate.

" _Please leave a message after the beep. Charlotte, honey, if it's you, please let me know where you are. Your father and I are so worried about you. We haven't heard from you in so long and we are so worried about you_." Twice she said she was worried. Charlie felt terrible as the message continued. Her father came on the recording taking the telephone away from her mother who could be heard sobbing in the background. " _Punkin, please call us. We don't care what has happened. We love you and want you home_." A beep sounded, telling her it was her turn to leave a message.

She waited for a few breaths, not sure what she was supposed to say.

"Uh, hi, it's me, Charlotte. First, I'm very sorry I haven't called in a long time. I am ok. You don't have to worry. Uh, I'll call, I'll call you back another time." She quickly hanged the pay phone receiver into its cradle and took a really deep breath.

"They sounded so desperate to find me and to hear from me. Good grief, that message had been on their machine for no telling how long. How many people, over the months, had listened to them begging their ill-behaved and disrespectful daughter to call?" She thought to herself.

She felt about two inches tall and she understood what if felt like to feel small. What had they done to ever deserve to be treated like that? She made up her mind to call them tomorrow after the guys were gone to Florida and then just let whatever happened, happen.

She realized that she had yet to take her hand off of the telephone receiver. It felt like if she released her hand from it, her contact with her family would be forever severed. She took another deep breath and let go, putting her chin to her chest. She promised to call back tomorrow. Maybe the guys were right. Maybe it _was_ time to go home after all.

The bus station was brightly lit and Charlie didn't feel up to going to say goodbye to the guys and listening to their lecturing and whining about her needing to have already gone home. She walked around outside and looked through the windows a few times. She heard Vince's voice before she saw them and she ducked back into a shadow, letting them walk past. They were all wearing new T-shirts and not wearing coats.

"Those bozos really aren't coming back. They aren't even taking their coats with them," she observed. They stood around the door for a few minutes but the chill in the air drove them inside. They had over an hour to go before their bus left and she didn't want to watch them stand around.

Man-Charlie went to the ticket window and then called the other two over to him. They all reached for their pockets. "Pony up boys," she imagined him to be telling them, "I am not paying for your tickets too." They each handed the attendant some cash and their IDs and then brought back their tickets.

They stood around in a small circle at first, looking around, probably not sure what to do with themselves for the next hour. Charlie saw Man-Charlie look straight at her, but she knew he didn't see her outside, even if the eye contact looked right through her. They turned and went through the metal detector and let the agent there wand them with a hand held detector. She saw Vince make a comment to the agent and then step back quickly. Yes, a smart comment had to have been made.

She went back out under the street lights to make her way to the fashion mall before they locked the doors a nine. She was getting used to approaching that building and wondered if Adrianne would hire her to work in her boutique when it opened. She quickly dismissed that idea because she knew in her heart that when she called home again in the morning, her parents would convince her to come home. Or, she wondered, had she already convinced herself?

She slipped through the revolving door, apparently avoiding the attention of any of the security guards and made her way to the coffee shop where she bought a bottle of chilled coffee for way too much and a stale sugar cookie, probably from the same batch she bought the one that morning, again for way too much. She watched the security cameras panning back and forth and then slipped unobserved into the bathroom, quickly pulling the door open and slipping inside.

She looked under the doors of all of the stalls and saw no feet. Good, she was alone. She opened the door of the stall that was out of order and stuck her pack and coat in there on the bench. She then went into an adjoining stall to take advantage of the working toilet. While she was in there, the lights overhead dimmed slightly and she heard a canned but melodious voice over the public address system, " _The venue will be closing in fifteen minutes. We ask that all patrons and visitors conclude your business and exit the building. Have a pleasant night and we hope you will visit us again._ "

"Good," She thought, "in fifteen minutes, I'll have the place to myself." She finished up her business and went into the other stall to hide. The plastic sheeting taped to the floor would protect her from being seen from below. She locked the door to the changing area and was surprised to find a double lock. She turned them both. These people didn't take any chances did they?

### Chapter 3

She laid her head back on her rolled up blanket, enjoying the soft cushions of the bench. The dim lighting and the soft place to lay promptly encouraged her to drift off asleep. She wasn't asleep for long when she heard the bathroom door open and a woman's voice as she walked in, her high heels clicking on the marble. Charlie laid absolutely still and tried her best to hold her breath, just in case the other person had super-power hearing, which was absurd.

"Is anyone in here?" She heard the voice ask out loud. "Hello is anyone here?

She heard the high heels go down the row to each of the stalls opening them and looking in. "Here we go," she thought, "it's not time to get caught."

She heard the doors opening on the stalls and then the footsteps stopped outside of the one she was in and heard the voice say, "Out of order," followed by a laugh, "Soldier boy must have used this one and clogged it up." She rattled the door and then kicked at the plastic sheeting under the door. Charlie held her breath and waited for the alarm but none came.

The remaining five stalls were checked and she heard the woman report to a man outside. "There's no one here. I'll use the bathroom and then I'll be out."

"Ok," he responded. "Make it quick so I can lock up."

"Big ape," she heard the lady say. "Don't they know I'm a trained gemologist and not a security guard?" So, the security guard got a woman from the diamond brokerage to come check the women's restroom for stragglers. He apparently didn't want to go in himself.

She heard the woman enter the stall and then heard a zipper traveling, followed by the crack of knee joints as the lady squatted to do her business. She passed some gas and made a rude comment which almost made Charlie laugh and give away her hiding spot. She clamped her hand tightly over her mouth and squeezed her eyes shut. She'd laugh later.

Soon the door opened and the male voice boomed, "Would you get a move on?"

"I'll be right there!" She replied angrily and Charlie then heard the toilet paper roll moving and then the toilet flushed. It was automatic of course.

She heard the lady clip-clopping in her high heels toward the door of the bathroom, "I'm coming, keep your shirt on."

"Yuck she didn't wash her hands! How disgusting!" Charlie thought as the lady pushed open the door.

"Here I am!" she heard the lady say as the door closed behind her. "Hey what's that for?" There was a pause then she heard more voices through the large brass slotted vent in the door. "What's going on? Don't push! You don't need to do that!"

Charlie heard a really loud noise and then something slammed into the bathroom door, making Charlie jump and gasp. She heard a couple of women and a man scream. "Stop hitting him!" one of the women yelled.

She heard the same authoritative voice bark orders to others in the room and then said, "Take them to the back and lock them in the vault room. Take their clothes and their phones."

"No wait," she heard one of the women say, "you don't need to do that to us. We won't tell." She was pleading.

A different male voice joined in, "you follow directions and you'll be safe. He tried to grab my gun. Let that be a lesson in cooperation for you."

The first voice again, "Now move!" His tone then changed talking someone else. "Move them back. I'm going to lock up out here and then we can get to moving those gems."

"What about him? He needs a hospital!"

"Leave him. We won't be taking him to Paraguay with us." They both thought that was funny and laughed. "Cuff his hands behind his back, just in case he decides to wake up on us."

Charlie heard a key slide into the lock on the bathroom door and click closed. She was locked in now, whether she wanted to be or not. The lights all shut off in the bathroom, soaking her in darkness except for some ambient light from somewhere outside of the stall.

She laid there for a few minutes desperately wishing that she could wake up from this horrible dream she was caught in. She also wished that she could have gone home, gone to Florida, or even tried to spend the night at the mission or Mrs. K's; anywhere but here. She knew that she could hide in here until Monday when it was time to open back up, but she didn't know if they would let her. She worried that one of the women would have to go to the bathroom and they would bring her in.

She slipped her shoes off in the dark and put them on the bench beside her and made sure that nothing was on the floor by hanging her pack on the coat hook on the side wall. She carefully and quietly unlocked the door, flinching at the clicks the double locks made. The door swung open quietly, Charlie saying a silent prayer of thanks for the high quality piano hinge on the door.

She crept across the floor toward the light coming through large brass vent slats in the door. The slats were angled down so if she squatted and put her eye up against them, she could see outside of the door. Someone on the other side could lay down and look up through the vents and see the ceiling in the bathroom. She knew this from years of spying on her parents hiding her Christmas presents in their basement. She'd squat in the bush outside of the house and look in through the basement window. One day, mom turned the blinds the wrong way and she couldn't see in.

She got as close to the door as she could to look through the slats without actually touching it. On her hands and knees she pushed her right eye toward the top slat and looked out into the lobby and found her view obstructed by something. She knew the higher her vantage, the more she could see. Getting closer to the floor lessened what she could see but she had no choice so she looked lower. She put her eye by the slat and nearly screamed when a bloody, battered face stared right back at her. She fell back on her hands and backside, feet slipping on some fluid on the floor that was coming under the door.

She frantically backed into the darkest corner she could find and caught her breath. She pulled her knees up to her chest and wrapped her arms around them, hugging herself tightly. She was starting to hate the city. People had always talked about how violent the city was but until the night before, she'd never been exposed to murder. Now it was right in front of her.

Once she got control of her breath and stopped the tears of fear and distress, she realized that no one was pounding on the door trying to come in and get her. She slowly crawled back and saw her footprints on the marble. What had she slipped in? On hands and knees again, careful to avoid the small puddle, she slowly looked through the slats and saw the same unmoving face. She didn't have to fight the urge to scream this time and stared at him. Oh what she would give for a cell phone at the moment to call for help.

"Well at least the guys are off to Florida. Two bodies in two nights isn't what I would call a great tourism promotion!" she whispered to herself. She was famous for her false-bravado and this time she was even trying to fool herself. She wasn't suited for violence, no matter how tough she acted or intellectually she approached a harsh situation. She reminded herself that she wasn't a hardened television Texas Ranger, but instead she was just a girl, trying to figure out her way in life, without any support system.

She became almost frantic when sudden silence assailed her. She wildly peered through the slats in the door, trying to see if someone was coming from the lobby toward her. She hadn't paid any attention before, but there had always been an ambient background music playing throughout the mall, including the restroom; some formless, instrumental music. It was one of those things you realize is there but almost instantly dismiss and ignore – until it shuts off suddenly. The silence was deafening. Charlie immediately held her breath, afraid that someone could hear her.

She realized that she could hear yelling and screaming from a hysterical woman. It seemed to be coming through the wall vents behind the sinks. She quietly crawled over to the wall and put her ear against it, trying to hear what was going on. The wall below the sink was a horrible sound conductor and all she heard was muffled noises. It was clearer near the door. She stood and sat on top of the sink counter, pressing her ear to the mirror. The voices were much clearer now and she could make out what was being said if she held her breath and ignored the heartbeat pounding in her ears.

The security guys seemed to be arguing among themselves and then yelling at the women who shrieked in return. She heard over and over about a code to a door. The men were yelling at the woman. No, it wasn't code, it was combination, that's what they were yelling about. They were trying to get the combination to the safe in the diamond brokerage.

She heard the voices shift as they moved from right to left, toward the front of the store – toward the lobby and the restroom! She jumped up and ran back to the stall where she'd stashed her stuff and closed the door behind her. She managed to fasten the last lock just as the lights clicked back on in the restroom. She heard the woman yelling out in the lobby.

"He was the only one who knew the code to the safe!" she shrieked.

"Well he's out now, which is what you're going to be if you don't come up with that code." One of the thugs yelled back at her.

"Search his pockets and his billfold. This place is new. Maybe he wrote it down so he wouldn't forget it."

"No," the woman cried, "He said he'd never write it down because then someone could find it." Her breath hitched. "Like you. He hid it from people like you!"

Charlotte heard a meaty noise that probably meant the mouthy lady had just gotten a hand to the head or face.

"What about if we just break in?" One of the men asked. "We could blow the door off."

"I don't have dynamite, do you?" The other man asked sarcastically. "We could break in through the walls though."

"Hold on," the man now standing just outside of the door says. "I have the building plans. I can tell you where we can get in. Don't move!" She hears him running off and then shortly returning. The voices fade as they move away. Charlie takes a deep breath and calms herself for the umpteenth time in a few days.

She stands up from the bench and is about to unlock the stall door when there is a thud against the door outside. She heard grunting and then voices, "Comatose guys are heavy! Help me slide him away from the door."

She hears a key going into the exterior lock and then the restroom door slams open and the voices are just a few feet away.

"Look, look right here." She hears paper rustling, "If we punch through this wall, it'll be right into the vault room."

"So you're telling me that we can go through a bathroom wall and end up in a vault holding more than thirty million in diamonds? That doesn't make any sense at all."

"No one expected this to happen. The walls are poured concrete and reinforced with steel rods. See right here, the drawings say so."

"Where does that leave us?"

"We make a smaller hole. There is a utilities chase that runs through the wall most of the way. It's small enough for a small person to fit through and open the door from the inside with the emergency codes."

"I'm not small and I don't know the codes. I bet you don't either."

"No but Gail does. We can hold a gun on her friend, and then have her go through a hole and open the door from inside. All we need are some sledge hammers and some pry bars."

"I don't have any of those either. I must have left them with my dynamite."

"I'll go get some! I won't be gone more than an hour."

"Alright, I'll stay and keep the ladies company." He laughs wickedly.

"We need them healthy, one of them has to crawl through for us. They should both know the emergency code to release from inside."

"Do it."

Charlie can't help herself and peeks through a very small slit in the plastic around the bottom of the stall door. She sees three men, two inside with her and the other standing in the door aiming a wicked looking gun at two women nearby.

Before the one leaves to go gather tools to tear down the wall she overhears him speak lowly to the other, "Once this is over, there aren't any witnesses. Know what I mean?"

"Yeah, I got you. I'll take care of it."

"I figured you would. What about the other two who were in the stairwell the other day?"

"I took care of that mousy designer in the park the other night."

"You said there were two."

"The other was some equally mousy model that was with her. They went up the stairwell to look over the railing. I ran them off."

"You took care of one you said?"

"The old one-two-three-four punch did."

"You mean the old one-two?"

"No, she got all four." He laughed.

"The other got away?"

"I ain't found her yet but when I do, she'll get all four too."

Charlie sat back suddenly, not even worrying about noise, even though she didn't make any. "He killed Adrianne! That's who it was in the park."

She started to silently cry, "Poor Adrianne, she's gone!" She thought back how she'd looked at the body under the shroud without realizing that it was her friend. She had even laid down on the spot on the sidewalk where her friend died. Her heart ached.

"You need to find the other one fast."

"I'll find her in the morning. I know where they work. I followed her the other day and it's at a shop owned by an old Korean lady. I'll get rid of her and probably the old lady at the same time. It'll help the cops think it was the Koreans that broke in here and killed everyone."

"I like it!" The other growled. "We'll get away clean. Go get the stuff. We'll start hammering as soon as you get back."

• • •

The snick of the door lock was loud in the now-quiet bathroom. Charlie knew she was in deep trouble and only had a little while to escape. The front door was locked. She thought about hiding in the stalls until they were finished and just left, but she could very well be caught. She opened the door and looked around as much as she could, thankful at least that the goons left the lights on this time. They were certainly planning on coming back.

Charlie frantically looked around the bathroom for some other way to escape. She noticed what looked like a maintenance access in the ceiling of the last stall in the line. Hoping that it was another way out, she closed and locked the stall door behind her and climbed up on top of the toilet and then put her feet on coat hooks bolted to the walls. She reached up with both hands to try and lift the access panel up.

A cloud of dust and debris rained down on her, filling her open mouth and eyes with grit. She gagged, spitting it out and frantically rubbed at her eyes as she slid the panel to the side. The pain in her eyes was almost overwhelming, nearly causing her to fall from her precarious perch atop the coat hooks. Once she was able to see again and the tears had washed her eyes clear, she looked up into the hole. She saw the bottom rung of a ladder within easy reach.

The tunnel through the ceiling was dark and dusty and went straight up. She saw a dim light at the top that had a red tint, probably a fire system warning light or something like that. She climbed as far as she could in the dark, the red light offering no relief. She encountered several hatches or doors but they were all locked or bolted shut. She tucked in beside one large pipe that was labeled "hot water" and had an arrow pointing down. It was warm and wrapped with some sort of tape that looked like a plaster cast she'd had on her arm when she was a kid.

### Chapter 4

The snore that came from her mouth is what woke her, at least that's what she tried to convince herself as she napped beside the pipe, which seemed to be the safest place she'd found this night. The muffled voices below her are what gave her warning. The panel was still open and if they looked inside of that last stall, they would surely see it. She didn't dare go higher without a light and was now afraid that if she went down, she'd alert them to her presence.

She looked up the ladder longingly at the dim red light. Sure just knew escape was that way but she had to go back for her bag and her light. She couldn't crawl higher in a building any more than she could climb a tree to escape a bear. She had to come down eventually and she would rather it be on her own terms. Gingerly she began her descent, desperate to be as quiet as possible.

She clung to the last rung of the ladder, trying to figure out what to do next. She knew they would soon come in and then she'd be trapped. Lowering her body down until she was hanging by her hands, she dropped, landing with a foot on either side of the toilet, mightily bruising the insides of her knees. She tried not to cry out and bit her lip to fight back the pain. She slumped against the wall, hands grasping her knees.

She heard the voices in the lobby again, this time much more clearly. She ran from the stall she was in and slid into the one that was "out of order" quickly locking the door behind her. No sooner than she had pulled her feet up on the bench then she heard the outer door swing open.

"Are you going to move that guy away from the door anytime soon?" one of them demanded.

"Nah, by the time someone finds him, we'll be long gone."

"There wasn't anything in the wallet about a code was there?"

"No, it was empty, literally. The guy didn't have much in there other than a driver's license, a library card and a photo of a really hairy woman." He laughed. "You should see those caterpillars on her forehead."

Charlie absently touched her eyebrows and wondered if he would have said the same thing about her, not that it really mattered. She heard a very slight electronic beep coming from the front of the bathroom. Apparently the two men didn't hear it over their own banter.

"I bet they didn't get his cell phone." She thought to herself, "Those idiots didn't even think to look for a telephone on the guy's belt."

Of course, she didn't know if he had one or not, or if that beep was from one of them.

"Go ahead and drag him in here while I take this wall down. Just in case someone looks through the front doors, I don't want them to see feet sticking out back here."

"Alright, but I'm not cleaning the blood up."

He looks around and notices the footprints in the blood, "Man, you've got little lady feet." He says, insulting his partner as he opens the door. With a grunt and a faked vomiting sound, he laughs and drags in the diamond brokerage manager. He drags him through the blood and then by strange chance he covers Charlie's footprints with the body

"I don't have lady feet!" The other one said as he swung a sledge hammer, shattering a mirror and the tiles on the wall, sending fragments flying

"Hey watch out! Man that almost took out my eyes! Give me some safety goggles."

"I don't have any."

"Well, I want some if we're going to do this. I don't want to get blinded trying to get rich and not enjoy the wealth."

"Yeah me too. There are some in the jeweler's office, I'll go get them."

"I'll go too." He says, pointing at the body. "You're not leaving me in here with him."

"Let's hurry. I want to get this done." The two hurry out the door and Charlie listens for them to leave. She doesn't hear the lock being bolted.

"Here we go. It's all or nothing now." She puts her pack on her back and leaves the safety of the stall, heading toward the main door. She puts her ear to the door, listening for their return. A loud beep sounds from the shirt pocket of the dead man and Charlie nearly jumps out of her own skin. She leans over and reaches into his pocket to retrieve a new touch-screen smart phone. There is a "message waiting" warning on the screen. The little light glows green in her hand.

"This might come in handy. I can call the cops." She touches the screen to dismiss the message waiting indicator and sees the little battery icon flashing orange. It's almost dead. "I better do this now."

She touches "911" on the phone and hears a voice, "911 what is your emergency?"

"I'm in trouble," she whispers.

"I can't hear you. Can you speak up?"

"I think they killed a man."

"Where are you?"

"I'm at the new fashion mall. The guards, they..."

She heard voices approaching quickly. She'd blown her chance to escape. She shoved the phone in her pocket and ran back to the stall, again locking the doors.

She heard the men return and begin swinging a sledge hammer at the wall. The noise was deafening in the small room and she could hear chunks of concrete hitting the door of her stall.

"Wait a minute. Let's make sure this is the right place."

She hears one of the guys open the drawings of the walls. "See, between the second and third sink fixture is the chase. We can go right through there."

"Ma'am please stay on the phone and we'll track your location." The voice came from her pocket, muffled and the two men got quiet. She pushed down on the phone in her pocket, praying that the phone would be quiet and they didn't hear her outside.

She was reassured by the continued pounding on the concrete wall. It seemed to go on for a few minutes before she heard a sudden pop and loud curses. She could hear water rushing and spraying against the doors of the stalls.

"You idiot, you hit the water line with the hammer!"

"It was in the way. I didn't know it would explode!"

"What did you think it would do?"

"Turn the water off!"

"How?" He took a breath, "I don't know how!"

"We need something to plug it. Look around. Stick some concrete in it."

"I don't see anything that will fit!"

"Look in that out of order stall, maybe the plumber left something behind."

Dread filled Charlie's heart as she made herself as small as she could on the bench behind the door. She heard the door rattle as someone tried to open it. She'd only locked one of the locks and it shook loosely.

She held her breath and as expected the door slammed open with the kick from a large boot. It flew open and slammed into the bench right beside her, then rather comically if it weren't for the situation, it slammed back closed of its own momentum. Charlie pulled her feet up close to her body as the door was pushed back open, completely blocking her from view. As long as he didn't come in the stall he wouldn't see her. She could see his fingers coming around the edge of the door and was surprised to see that he had manicured nails. It was just one of those odd details that you usually overlook that she noticed this time.

He mumbled something to himself and then closed the door again.

"There's nothing in there. The plumber cleaned everything up."

"I'll roll up my tie and stick it in the pipe."

"Better be careful" He said jokingly, "you might get fired from your rent-a-cop job!"

The telephone beeped again, complaining about its battery being low. Charlie put her hand over it and pushed the volume button on the side to mute it, wishing she'd done that earlier. She looked at it to make sure it was off and noticed a string of numbers on the background screen. "He made the combination his background!" she thought. "I'm surrounded by idiots." Then she realized he was probably already dead and apologized silently.

The door to the stall flew open and two men barged in, grabbing her by her arms and legs, dragging her out.

"It's the model," grunted one of the men wrestling with her. "What kind of luck is this? She just showed right up."

"Get her out and take her with the others."

They stripped her pack off and roughly patted down her cargo pockets on her pants. The amateurs failed to search her shirt pocket where the phone was. It was probably because she was a girl. Even though they'd already killed a guy, they still had taboos with young women. She'd hoped the 911 operator was still listening but was pretty sure the low battery had disconnected them.

They dragged her out of the bathroom, through the stream of spraying water into the lobby. They yelled for their third who came running through the store front. His eyes grew large as he saw her.

"She was hiding in the bathroom."

"Take her in with the others. This is getting complicated."

They pushed her through the diamond brokerage where she noticed that all of the glass cabinets with the bright white lights were empty. They noticed her looking.

"Look at that will ya? She's facing three armed men and still can't help but look for diamonds. That's a woman for you – diamonds are their best friends."

"As soon as we get that door open, they'll be my best friend too."

Charlie was roughly shoved into the office next to the vault door. "Here's another one."

Two women were sitting on the floor beside the vault door, dressed in just their blouses, taped together at the wrists, back to back. She hoped they didn't make her undress too but instead they started arguing among themselves.

"There are too many here. Pick one to keep and shoot the rest. The model girl doesn't know the escape code so she can't go through and unlock from the inside. She's getting a bullet for sure."

"I don't know. I kind of like her." The guard that winked at her the previous day.

"You want the money or the girl? Can't have both."

"I want the money. I can find a new girl." He lifted his gun and pointed it at them and motioned for the smaller of the two brokerage women to step aside. "I guess it's going to be you two."

They both began to cry and Charlie was immensely sorry for herself. "I didn't come to the city for this. I just wanted to escape." Her tears flowed, "I want to call my mama."

"Oh shut up, you're not calling anybody."

The other woman was silently crying too, waiting for her fate. Her face already swollen from being hit.

In a flash of brilliance, that for once served her well, Charlie thought of something, "I have the door lock code! You don't have to punch a hole through the wall."

One of the men punched the other in the back. "She heard every word!"

"I have the door code!" She continued. "You don't have to kill us!"

"Now just how do you have the code?"

"It's on his phone! Here look."

She handed the telephone to one of the men who studied it and then had it jerked away by the other two who also studied it. That moment was the exact moment the telephone chose to die. It beeped once and then shut off. "No!" they all yelled, but one.

"It's ok, I got the code." The leader of the bunch said. He strode purposefully over to the vault and began entering numbers into the keypad. Soon an electric buzz indicated that the lock was disengaging and he could hear metal sliding on metal as the bolts were being withdrawn from their recesses.

"Oh baby, here we go." He tugged on the door and it pulled slowly open, lights turning on automatically, lighting up a dozen large velveteen trays, twinkling with more diamonds than Charlie had ever seen. "Those are the display diamonds. Get them too."

"I got them," one of the guys said, entering behind the leader, several of the black duffle bags in hand.

Charlie was mesmerized by the sparkling light show that was dancing around the interior of the vault as he shoved the trays into the bags. "Hey this isn't going to work," he said to the leader of the men. "They are going to fall off of the trays and go loose in the bags."

"Here, take these," the other said, tossing a number of large canvas bags to him. "Just dump them in there. The others should still be packaged for travel."

"What can I do?" the one guarding the three women asked, anxious to be involved.

"Just keep an eye on them."

"Don't be pocketing anything in there!" He warned the other two.

Charlie noticed that he was becoming agitated and starting to pace. He talked angrily to himself, obviously not the 'brains of the outfit.' She thought she could gain some favor with him.

"Hey, can I have a couple of those? They are so beautiful!"

"What?" He asked, incredulous.

"Some of the diamonds – you guys have a ton of them. I just want a couple." She looked at him pleadingly. "Please? I'll do anything."

"No! Are you loco lady? You're lucky to still be alive."

"But those are diamonds!" one of the other women chimed in. "Me too, I want a couple!"

"Can I have a pear cut? Can I have a marquis also?" The last of the women added.

"Look, you three," He yelled at them. "You're not getting anything!"

All three of the women were now chiding him, begging for the diamonds. "They are putting them in their pockets in there! I saw them. They aren't going to share with you unless you take them! Share them with us too!" Charlie acted desperate but what came next, she didn't expect. The tough guy grabbed her by the arm and shoved her roughly toward the other two women.

"Sit down! We have to tie you up. I need to go in there and help."

"Let me go with you!" She added desperation to her voice, maybe even overly so she thought.

"No!" he pushed her toward the women sitting behind the now open door.

Charlie turned to face him, her hands holding his forearm, opposite his gun. "Please let me go. I won't tell anyone." She had meant to continue the charade of frustrating her captor but instead let her true intentions slip out. Her real desperation crept through in a flood of tears.

Her captor could hear the other two talking inside of the vault. "What are you saying in there? I can't hear you. Are you cutting me out of the deal already?" His paranoia was growing as there really is no honor among thieves.

"Shut up and watch the women. We're almost done."

"No, I want to know what you're saying. You're not cutting me out!

"I bet they're in there right now trying to figure out how they are going to kill you and take your share of the diamonds," Charlie fed his anxiety. "I bet their pockets are heavy already."

"I'm very sorry girl. I don't have any more duct tape to tape you up. I have to get in there." He turned the gun toward her, her focus on the cavernous-seeming muzzle moving toward her. From out of nowhere, a heavy fist plowed into her temple sending her sprawling to the ground beside the door. She saw red, then black, then nothing.

The world swirled around her as she felt a pain in the top of her head and heard a hissing that was beginning to become clear. "Wake up!" one of the women was hissing at her and kicking her in the top of the head with her stretched out leg. "Wake up! Go get help!" She pushed her with her foot as much as she was able to.

"Oww, that hurts!" she said, grasping the sides of her head and trying to sit up unsuccessfully. Apparently the thug had been watching too many television shows and action movies where a single punch will put someone out for the duration, allowing him to complete his dastardly plans. Unfortunately for him, it was rarely the case and ended up stunning the victim if they weren't outright killed by the impact.

"Be quiet!" The other hostage whispered. "No one is watching you. They are all in the vault. You can get away and get help!"

Charlie pushed herself up on her elbows and then to her hands and knees. Her world was swimming in circles and she could see lights dancing before her eyes. She grabbed the door of the vault to pull herself up. It moved under her grasp.

The vault door, despite being excessively heavy and virtually impenetrable, was mounted on top of the line hinge mechanisms and a small statured woman such as Charlie was easily able to move it. She grabbed at it desperately to stop its movement so as not to alert the three inside the safe.

"Inside the vault!" her inner voice screamed at her. "They are all three inside! Shut the door!"

She leaned against the door, dizzy from the punch and probably harboring a concussion. She pushed it as forcefully as she could.

"Hey! The door is closing!" one of the men shouted from inside. They all scrambled toward the door but two of the three couldn't get around the large security boxes stacked in the center of the floor for the large diamond shipment. The final thug, the one who had punched Charlie, thrust his arm with the gun out of the door as it attempted to slam shut.

He screamed as the massive weight tried to close through his arm. His armed jerked in spasms causing him to pull the trigger on his gun several times. He shot several bullets ricocheting around the show room. All of the women screamed and Charlie threw her weight against the door again, making the man scream along with them. He withdrew his now injured arm, allowing the door to slam closed.

"It's not locked!" one of the bound women yelled. "Push the buttons!"

Charlie desperately stabbed at the buttons on the keypad as she felt impacts on the other side of the door, men's bodies trying to force it open. A shrill beep came from the mechanism and she could hear metal sliding on metal as the bolts engaged. A red light appeared on the control pad.

"You did it!" The other two women celebrated! "You trapped them inside!"

She sat down hard on the floor, her head swimming. She heard an unpleasant ringing in her ears. "Can't they unlock with the emergency code inside?"

The other two looked at each other and laughed. "Who's going to tell them the code? It was in case _we_ got locked in, not _them_."

"Call an ambulance," was the last thing she remembered telling the women as she heard gunshots inside of the vault. Her world closed in on her and swept hear away to darkness.

### Chapter 5

"You go up to your room, young lady while your father and I discuss what to do."

"Go to my room? Are you kidding me? You act like I don't have any say in what happens!"

"Do as your mother says, dear, we have to figure this out."

"Oooh!" Charlie yelled in exasperation as she fled out of the kitchen and upstairs toward her bedroom. "I'm not a child" she yelled to the air behind her.

"Yes, you're our child!" she heard her mother yell in return.

She jumped onto her soft bed, slamming her face into the pillow where she yelled again, only muffled this time. She thought about who she could call but her friends had abandoned her when they found out what she had done. "She was better than that and much too smart to do what she did," was what she heard a couple of times since coming home that day.

She had desperately hoped for hugs and love and even some leniency from her parents. Of course, she'd get those once the shock wore off. She knew her parents did love her, regardless of how stupid she acted. They were right too, she was better than that and much smarter.

"Charlotte! How are you feeling?" She didn't want to raise her head from the pillow.

"Answer me girl, how are you feeling?" The voice was sharp and angry.

"Go away! Let me suffer alone." She said through her pillow.

She opened her eyes and looked. Mrs. Kumi was standing over her.

"Mrs. K? What are you doing here?" She looked around, thinking she was in her bedroom in her parents' house.

"I heard what happened to you Charlotte girl! I came right away." She leaned over Charlie and kissed her on the forehead, sending a wave of nausea through her.

Mrs. Kumi saw the reaction and apologized profusely as a nurse stepped up. "She's going to be dizzy for a while. She has a concussion and a contusion on the side of her head."

"I'm in the hospital," she sighed to herself, realizing she wasn't in her bedroom but instead in the hospital.

"Don't you worry about anything. The police mans were here and told me that you saved everyone and caught the robbers."

"It's all foggy."

"You're a real hero girl. They caught the robbers in the safe and found the body of the diamond man."

"It's over then."

"Yes!" She said emphatically, "It's over now."

"Good." Charlie mumbled as she turned to her side and vomited in the trashcan. Mrs. Kumi jumped back and the nurse stepped up to wipe her mouth with a towel that was on the bedside table.

"I'll let the doctor know you're awake. We'll get you something for the nausea."

"Thanks." Charlie laid back and wondered if Man-Charlie and his guys were at the beach already. She wished that she had gone with them and told Mrs. K about the idea.

"Why no!" she protested. "If you had gone, they would have got away and would have killed those two girls. You saved them all!"

"If you say so." She knew the older woman was right but her headache was splitting and she dreaded opening her eyes once she closed them. "They killed Adrianne."

The older woman nodded gravely. "You sleep now."

Mrs. Kumi kissed her on the temple again, having already forgotten the pain she caused with the first one. She went out in the hallway where Charlie saw her stop to talk to a police officer. Mrs. K shook her finger in the officer's face and then pointed at Charlotte. She heard a lot of "yes ma'ams" and "we'll make sure she's taken care of."

She drifted back to a fitful sleep, the first time she'd been in an actual bed in weeks. She thought to herself how much of a shame it was that she had to have a concussion to get clean sheets.

The telephone ringing woke her later. She turned over, aching more than she had the hours before. "The phone's ringing! Can someone get it? I can't move."

It kept ringing. Whoever it was, wasn't going to go away. "Can someone get the phone?"

Finally she reached over and grabbed the receiver, causing more nausea but nothing came up this time. "Hello?" she answered groggily. There was silence on the other end.

"Is someone there?" She asked. "I'm not in the mood for jokes."

"Charlotte?"

She was stunned for a moment.

"Mom?"

"Baby its mom. We just saw you on television."

Charlie laid back in bed, a wave of anguish washing over her. She felt ten years old again.

"Mom you wouldn't believe what has happened."

"We know dear. We saw it on the news."

"It was ugly."

"Are you ok?"

"I'm alive." She realized that was a plus.

"Your father is packing a bag to come get you. We're going to leave in a few minutes. It'll take about three hours to get there."

"No!" Charlie protested. "No." she calmed.

"Baby you need to come home."

Charlie was silent, considering.

"Are you there? Did you hear me? You need to come home."

"I heard you."

"We can work all of this out."

"There's no baby, Mama."

"I know dear. You told us that a long time ago."

"People are going to ask."

"People know, Charlotte. They all want you to come home, those that count."

Charlie thought about sleeping in the doorway of the abandoned dentist office and about laying on the asphalt walkway where Adrianne's body had been. Emotions overwhelmed her and she choked up.

"Mama?"

"Yes child?"

"I'm ready to come home. I have some people to tell you about."

### Author's Note

Sometimes stories just need to end when they are finished. I won't try to force more text into a story just to give it length, unless I can first add to its value of the characters and the plot. I have numerous novellas just like this one, swirling around in my head and in the limbo of my computer. I hope to organize them and offer them for readers just like you to enjoy.

Thank you to my friends who inspired several of the characters in Out of Order. You know who you are: James, Charlie (The real one) and Angie. I offer no apologies for these characters, only an, "I'll do better the next time!" This is a fictional story with fictional characters, events and locations. If you think you resemble the people mentioned, other than those I mentioned myself, it is purely accidental. If you want to steal my idea for the tacky fashion poster, go right ahead. I won't be responsible for you making a fool of yourself, however.

The plight of our nation's homeless population is very real. During my undergraduate years in college, I had the opportunity to work with several mission efforts and met quite a few of these people. Many of them are just normal folks like you and me, facing some truly unfortunate and tragic circumstances. Some of them are verifiably mentally ill and should be receiving treatment somewhere appropriate instead of living in the streets.

Quite a few are the runaway similar to who I depicted in this story with the character of Charlotte. This is an all-too-common problem. Many teens experience a crisis and then take to the streets hoping to escape from or avoid the situations. They don't realize that they are actually jumping into a much more dangerous environment than they understand.

There are those people who also just made the choice to blend in with society and become invisible as a member of the homeless population. I encourage you to volunteer your time and your talents with organizations that help the homeless and do what you can to ease their burdens. There is nothing romantic or exotic about living in a gutter or alleyway. Most who do it would happily trade places with you.

God Bless Us All.

