replaced by a headache and a dark mood that would linger for daysunless she sought relief from an over-the-counter medication. And, despite the number of people gathered under the large tent, their voices raised in laughter, and the frivolity that accompanied a relaxed outdoor social gathering, she felt completely alone, abandoned by the one man who claimed the same initials as the first man who’d walked out of her life when she needed him most. Her father: Carlos Moore.
Reaching for her large leather purse, Alana searched its cavernous depths until she found her cell phone. She punched in the numbers for her voice mail, then the access code. Biting down on her lower lip, she willed the tears pricking the backs of her eyelids not to fall when the familiar voice telling her there were “no messages” came through the earpiece.
Scrolling through the directory, she depressed another button for her therapist’s number. “This is Alana Gardner,” she whispered into the tiny microphone. “I would like to come in Tuesday at six. Please ring me back Tuesday morning to confirm.” She ended the call and dropped the tiny phone into her bag.
“Are you all right, Lana?”
She turned to find Faye staring at her. “Sure,” she said much too quickly.
Faye sat down next to Alana, studying her closely. She knew there was something wrong with her friend, but decided it was not the time or place to question her. They’d come to Long Island to have fun and make lots of money while doing it.
Alana forced a smile. “What’s up with you and Hakim? I hope you got his number.”
“No, I didn’t.”
“What!”
Faye winked at her. “I gave him mine.”
Alana returned the wink despite her throbbing temples. “Now, that’s my girl.”
Faye had told Hakim she wouldn’t be able to go out with him until after Labor Day because she was working on a special project. What she didn’t tell him was that the project was working as an escort.
“After Bart introduced you two, I saw you hanging on to Lowell Knight.”
Alana massaged her temples with her fingertips. “It was all for show.”
“Nice performance.”
“It’s not like that anymore, Faye. I’m totally committed to Calvin. “
But is Calvin totally committed to you? Faye wanted to ask.
“What time are you leaving?” Alana asked. The party was winding down and the crowd was beginning to thin out with the onset of dusk.
“I’m not.”
Alana stared, tongue-tied. “You’re spending the night?”
Faye’s body stiffened in shock. Her best friend’s query was layered with an accusatory tone that set her teeth on edge. “Yes.”
Alana leaned closer. “What the hell are you doing,Faye?” she whispered. “Just because Bartholomew Houghton waves some paper in your face, you’re ready to drop your panties and—”
“Stop it, Lana, and get your mind out of the gutter.” Faye’s voice was low and filled with a seething rage she found hard to control. “You should know me better than that. The man wants me to spend the weekend with him, and sleeping together doesn’t figure into the equation.
“In case you’ve forgotten why I decided to sign on with P.S., Inc., let me refresh your memory. I need money for my brother’s appeal—a lot of money, because most lawyers see rapists and pedophiles as bottom-feeders in the criminal-justice food chain. Even murderers command more respect. So if Bartholomew Houghton wants me to spend a month with him, then I’ll do it. And if it means lying on my back to get the last dollar, then I’ll do that too.”
Alana studied the bright pink polish on her toes rather than meet Faye’s angry gaze. She had forgotten about Craig Ogden Jr. because despite the turmoil going on in the Ogden household Faye always appeared so well adjusted. The only time she saw her lose her composure was after Faye received a letter from her brother informing her that he’d spent a week in the Auburn Correctional Facility hospital
Reaching for her large leather purse, Alana searched its cavernous depths until she found her cell phone. She punched in the numbers for her voice mail, then the access code. Biting down on her lower lip, she willed the tears pricking the backs of her eyelids not to fall when the familiar voice telling her there were “no messages” came through the earpiece.
Scrolling through the directory, she depressed another button for her therapist’s number. “This is Alana Gardner,” she whispered into the tiny microphone. “I would like to come in Tuesday at six. Please ring me back Tuesday morning to confirm.” She ended the call and dropped the tiny phone into her bag.
“Are you all right, Lana?”
She turned to find Faye staring at her. “Sure,” she said much too quickly.
Faye sat down next to Alana, studying her closely. She knew there was something wrong with her friend, but decided it was not the time or place to question her. They’d come to Long Island to have fun and make lots of money while doing it.
Alana forced a smile. “What’s up with you and Hakim? I hope you got his number.”
“No, I didn’t.”
“What!”
Faye winked at her. “I gave him mine.”
Alana returned the wink despite her throbbing temples. “Now, that’s my girl.”
Faye had told Hakim she wouldn’t be able to go out with him until after Labor Day because she was working on a special project. What she didn’t tell him was that the project was working as an escort.
“After Bart introduced you two, I saw you hanging on to Lowell Knight.”
Alana massaged her temples with her fingertips. “It was all for show.”
“Nice performance.”
“It’s not like that anymore, Faye. I’m totally committed to Calvin. “
But is Calvin totally committed to you? Faye wanted to ask.
“What time are you leaving?” Alana asked. The party was winding down and the crowd was beginning to thin out with the onset of dusk.
“I’m not.”
Alana stared, tongue-tied. “You’re spending the night?”
Faye’s body stiffened in shock. Her best friend’s query was layered with an accusatory tone that set her teeth on edge. “Yes.”
Alana leaned closer. “What the hell are you doing,Faye?” she whispered. “Just because Bartholomew Houghton waves some paper in your face, you’re ready to drop your panties and—”
“Stop it, Lana, and get your mind out of the gutter.” Faye’s voice was low and filled with a seething rage she found hard to control. “You should know me better than that. The man wants me to spend the weekend with him, and sleeping together doesn’t figure into the equation.
“In case you’ve forgotten why I decided to sign on with P.S., Inc., let me refresh your memory. I need money for my brother’s appeal—a lot of money, because most lawyers see rapists and pedophiles as bottom-feeders in the criminal-justice food chain. Even murderers command more respect. So if Bartholomew Houghton wants me to spend a month with him, then I’ll do it. And if it means lying on my back to get the last dollar, then I’ll do that too.”
Alana studied the bright pink polish on her toes rather than meet Faye’s angry gaze. She had forgotten about Craig Ogden Jr. because despite the turmoil going on in the Ogden household Faye always appeared so well adjusted. The only time she saw her lose her composure was after Faye received a letter from her brother informing her that he’d spent a week in the Auburn Correctional Facility hospital
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