Women’s Fiction

Because sometimes I want to be an adult, I do write Women’s Fiction. Usually stories stroll into my mind regarding every day situations. Love, hate, forgiveness, struggles, and miracles. So, in my women’s fiction you’ll find a lot about my beliefs as a Christian as well as fun fantasical elements because I truly believe that God gave me this gift of writing to have fun with it! And fun will be had.

RUNAWAY CHOICES
SPRING 2012

Preview of RUNAWAY CHOICES

CHAPTER ONE:
The bright morning sun peeked over the clouds, skewering me with the wakeup call I hadn’t ordered. My hand reached for the window shade, yanking it down to shield the blinding rays from my drowsy eyes. Flying was one of my least favorite activities, and catching the red-eye flight out of Chicago was even worse. Eight hours on a plane sitting too close to my neighbor, near someone else who smelled like a liquor cabinet, and still another with an apparent distaste for hygiene in the last century, had not been my idea of a great start to my vacation.

I snorted. Yeah, a vacation.

“Ladies and gentlemen, we’re making our final descent into London,” the crackling voice announced, startling the sleeping man next to me from the log-sawing contest he was having with the man in 13B. My headache proclaimed loud and clear that my row buddy was the winner. By a landslide.

Sleeping had been a useless endeavor. My pillow had been my ineffective attempt at a buffer, and I’d debated, more than once, on using it as a deadly weapon.

“Ma’am?” I heard from the aisle.

The mouthy flight attendant, whom I’d encountered during a bathroom break two hours into the flight from O’Hare, stood awkwardly at the end of my row.

I saw right through her false smile and glared.

“Can you return your seatback to the upright position?” Her tone was less than friendly.
A wide, cynical smile crept across my lips. Tilting my head, I raised my eyebrows in the most sarcastic pose I could muster.

“Please?” came her snarky inclusion.

My row buddy turned, and I transformed my face, offering the biggest puppy dog eyes I could muster. The seatback clicked into place.

It was the flight attendant’s turn to glare.

“Does she have a problem with you?” the concerned man said in his thick British accent.

“I… She…” I started, maintaining my confused expression as I poured on the dramatic improvisation, complete with quivering lip.

The flight attendant’s glare turned into outrage and she hurried down the aisle.

I wiggled my fingers in a little sarcastic wave outside the man’s view.

My neighbor twisted towards me, and I contorted my face into bewilderment.

Score.

Shrugging my shoulders, I leaned my head against the cabin wall again, invisibly rejoicing at my small triumph. That would teach her to mess with a girl who needed a cola outside of “serving hours,” as she had put it. Who cares what time it had been? I’d needed the cola. I would have gladly paid the last five dollars in my pocket for it.

“Give me the freaking can,” I’d demanded, raising a huge scene at the back of the Boeing 747.

“Keep it down,” she’d begged.

Ouch. The wrong thing to say to a woman suffering a caffeine addiction headache the size of a watermelon.

I’d kept it down all right. Only the back ten rows had heard me over the dull roar of the engines. Three-fourths of the plane hadn’t seen the display.

Tragic, really.

It had been my best performance to date. I may not have a lot going for me, but I do have a few talents tucked up my sleeve. After all, I was on my way to London by sheer talent alone.

That guy never saw me coming.

A small, genuine smile graced my lips before I glanced over at my portly neighbor, who was packing his belongings into his satchel.

The plane turned, which threw my equilibrium off kilter. My second dose of Dramamine was wearing off.

I shimmied the visor up, and the whole row winced away from the bright sun. Despite being the world traveler I claimed to be, this was my first trip to England. I’d had a layover here a few years earlier, but I’d been in a stupor that night. I hardly even remembered catching my connecting flight. Nevertheless, I had made it to Vienna, which was all that had really mattered on that trip.

In the early morning light, the streets of London looked more like a bad case of spider veins than a decent city layout. The streets followed no rhyme or reason. From the air, they seemed to dart out at every angle, not minding in which direction they started or ended. Coming from Chicago, the land of the perpendicular, this might be a challenge to navigate.

The stench in the cabin kicked up a notch as the air vents tampered down in our final approach. Someone needed to make a law requiring all ticket holders to have bathed in the twenty-four hours before a flight. I mean, seriously, the stink was so strong that coupled with the movement of the plane I had to fight the urge to gag.

I stuffed the shade closed. I was about to lose it. I leaned back in my seat and concentrated on breathing, trying not to inhale through my nose.

“Your first time in London?” The voice of my neighbor interrupted my meditation.

“No,” I lied, keeping my eyes shut, attempting to stifle the conversation.

It worked.

With a few controlled, deep breaths, my stomach settled. Just hold your cookies a little longer, Beck.
Through my parted lids, I peeked scrupulously at my neighbor poking at his iPhone. I didn’t mind conversation, but at that moment, I didn’t think I could carry one without either puking or ripping someone’s head off. Ask the flight attendant. She could attest. Not that I was sorry — quite the contrary. My last few weeks had been rough. Anyone in my situation would have responded likewise, with or without the massive headache and the urge to barf.

My mind raced over the events that had plagued the past few weeks. Too much. I had been through too much for my short twenty-three years of life. No one could argue with that. The real kicker had been… No, I’m not going there, not right now. Thoughts of my past pressed forward, threatening to overtake me.

Get a freaking hold of yourself, Beck. It’s not worth it. I could feel the sensation well up around the corners of my eyes. I was a master at bottling my emotions. I certainly wasn’t going to let them fly at fifteen-or-so-thousand feet.
Reaching in my backpack, I pulled out my compact mirror. I needed to check the damage this eight-hour flight had caused.

Ugh. I had bags the size of my carry-on hanging out under my blue eyes. No amount of cover-up in the world would be able to hide those, so any efforts to make myself more presentable would be futile. It wasn’t the first time I’d arrived in another country looking like a vagabond, and it certainly wouldn’t be the last.

“So where you headed?” My neighbor’s head bobbed into the reflection as he attempted to ignite conversation.
I snapped the mirror shut and smiled politely, intending to brush him off. However, he had such a curious expression, one that said he wasn’t going to let up until I spoke a few words.

We weren’t due to arrive in the hangar for another twenty minutes. What the heck.

“Actually, I lied.” I fiddled with the release button on the seat back air phone.

“Ma’am?” I heard the flight attendant’s impatient voice again. This time I couldn’t contain myself.

“What now?!”

“I need you wait to use the air phone until we arrive.”

I threw my hands up in surrender.

The perplexed man glanced between the flight attendant and my defeat.

“I pissed her off earlier this morning.” I glared at the woman, who walked away in a huff.

“You were saying?” He sounded undeterred.

Man, does he have a one-track mind or what?

“Yeah, so I lied. I’ve never been to London. I don’t know the first thing about it. And looking down at the street design…” I pushed the window shade up half-way and pointed. “I’m sure I’ll be lost before the day is out.”

“Where are you headed?”

“I’m not really headed anywhere,” I admitted to the total stranger. “I’ll probably stay at a youth hostel.”

“Oh, really?” He scratched the scruffy stubble on his chin. “Which hostel are you thinking?”

Goodness, this man is nosy.

“Umm, I know of a few in Central London. I haven’t really decided. I have all day to check them out.” Well, most of that had been the truth. I did have all day, but lack of funds prevented me from staying anywhere. I would spend most of the day contemplating how to achieve something to eat.

“The hostels are safe enough.” He bobbed his head in approval. “How long are you staying in the city?”

“I dunno,” I said. I hadn’t really thought about how long I was going to stay. “…long enough to earn the money to buy a ticket out, I suppose.” Oh. I hadn’t planned to share that.

“So, you’re stuck in London?”

“I wouldn’t say stuck.” I could con my way out any day of the week. So really, I wasn’t stuck.

The man studied me thoughtfully. “Ben,” he said, sticking out his pudgy fingers.

“Ann,” I lied, putting my hand in his. I wasn’t about to give him my real name. He had enough personal information already.

“Ann, you say?”

“Yeah, Ann.”

“Well, Ann,” he said, as if he already didn’t believe me, “I have a proposition for you.”

Oh great. Why do I always attract the pervs?

“What’s up, Ben?” I said, my voice dripping with sarcasm.

He chuckled seeing humor in my tone. “I own a hotel just outside London.”

I braced myself for the question that had been posed to me every week since I’d left jailbait status, and even some weeks before.

“I need a courier.” He took an advertisement query out of his jacket pocket and placed it on my lap. “I was actually planning to go to the post as soon it opened this morning, but you seem to have crossed my path at the perfect time. It’s not much of an opportunity — just small errands for my guests.”

I couldn’t help but gape. Offering me a job? Is he out of his mind? He looked serious enough.

“I can’t pay you much, but I can offer you quarters, meals, and dress.”

My mouth still hung half open in shock when the plane touched down on the landing strip.

“You want to offer me a job?”

“And a place to stay, some food, and a bit of pay… sounds like you could use it.”

I struggled, trying to formulate words in response. Usually, I conned people into things like this, yet here this man sat offering me this opportunity and he didn’t know me from Jane.

“What-cha say?” He inclined his head. “It’s safer than most of your alternatives.”

Whoa. Had he guessed I didn’t have but five dollars to my name? Maybe he was some kind of mind reader.

“Uh, I guess.” I hadn’t completely thought the whole situation through, but it was a warm bed, a hot meal, and some pocket money. I would’ve been stupid to pass it up, right? Besides, I really had no other place to go.

“Brilliant.”

I couldn’t think of anything to say. Me, at a loss for words. This is a new predicament.

“Oh,” I finally managed. “I guess I should tell you my real name.” I immediately felt foolish.

“You mean it isn’t Ann?” he said sarcastically.

“No, but I didn’t totally lie. Ann is my middle name.” I groaned. Lying came so easily to me. “Beck. My name is Beck.”

“Beck?” he asked, eyebrow raised.

“Yes… well Rebekah. But no one calls me that,” I added quickly. “Just Beck will do.”

“Rebekah Ann, my newest employee.”

I turned and pushed up the shade the rest of the way, pretending to gaze at the tarmac. I was despicable. I could even lie about telling the truth. When did this happen exactly? When had it become easier to tell a lie rather than the truth?

Ben’s iPhone slid off his lap and hit the floor with a thunk. He tried to reach it, but his large girth prevented him from finding where it hid beneath the seat.

“I’ll get it for you.” My fingers searched the floor blindly before touching the smooth casing just out of my grasp. I leaned forward, fumbling, then tucked my head between my legs to get a better view. It was lodged between our two seats.

“There it is.” I tugged the phone from its hiding spot, inadvertently pressing buttons. It lit up, and a message appeared on the screen. I froze.

Written across the screen was my name.