Hidden in the thick pages of the Chicago Tribune, it nearly escaped Hope’s attention: Boarding house room to rent. Safe location. The promise of safety prompted her to respond. But when the super opened the door revealing a room as unremarkable as the ad itself, Hope’s optimism faded. The shabby décor, best described as early austerity, consisted of a ladder-back chair, a floor lamp listing dangerously to the left and a scarred, three-drawer bureau. A narrow army cot completed the room’s meager furnishings. But there was one redeeming feature. A tiny bathroom tucked into one corner of the room was a definite improvement over her last room that offered only a shared bath down the hall—and a growing suspicion she was being watched.
“It is safe, isn’t it?” she asked Donny, the super. “Like your ad said?”
Donny scratched the stubble on his chin thoughtfully. “Safe as most places, I guess.”
She sighed resignedly, “Is the bedding clean?”
“Lady,” Donny answered tersely, “everything I got is clean—from the floor on up! And the rent’s good. Eighty a week or two-seventy a month.”
Her life being too unpredictable to pay in advance, Hope withdrew several carefully folded twenties from her jeans and counted out one week’s rent.
“Guess you won’t be here long,” Donny grumbled. “What name goes on the receipt?”
“Name?” she asked blankly.
“Yeah, lady. For the rent receipt.”
Hope struggled to remember. “Ellen—Ellen Rogers.”
He eyed her curiously. She was nothing like the drab, used-up type he usually saw in these rooms. “Ain’t none a my business missy, but what’s a nice lookin’ young thing like yerself doin’ in a dump like this?” When she didn’t respond he gave her a hard look, taking in her tall frame and nervous green eyes. “Well,” he shrugged, “there’s no way in hell you’re gonna be here very long—but I’d sure like to know what you’re up to.” He gave her a surprisingly friendly wink and left.
Hope unpacked her battered suitcase and put a well-worn stuffed bear dressed in an Irish kilt on the cot. “Well, Laddy,” she sighed, “it’s nothing to write home about—” then realized that writing home was no longer an option.

Hope found a waitressing job at a small diner within walking distance of her room. It was tiring work but the tips were decent and she liked Jake and Nell who ran the place. They always sent her home with leftovers, so she spent little on food. Her tips and paycheck covered her rent, requiring her to dip into her savings only for dire emergencies. She patted the pocket sewn inside her undershirt, reassuring herself that the several large bills remained secure.
Heading for the diner, Hope trudged through August’s humid heat. She looked in wonder at joggers, panting and dripping sweat, loping by. She imagined a “runner’s high” felt as glorious as racing Renegade through the countryside, something she tried not to dwell on.
Reaching the diner with time to spare, Jake greeted her happily. “Good thing you’re early, Ellen. Nell and I are busy as all get out. He looked at her with a teasing smile as he flipped burgers on his sizzling grill. “You know, half our customers come here just to get a look at you. The male half that is. Even Nell knows I hired you for your good looks, ‘cause it sure wasn’t those glowing recommendations that got you the job—you know, the ones you keep forgetting to show me?”
“It’s not me bringing them in, Jake. It’s your cooking.”
“Well, I’m no Martha Stewart, but I do make a mean pot of goulash. If there was such a thing as a goulash cook-off, I’d take first prize, don’t you think?”
Hope laughed, “And your meatloaf, and your chili, and your monster burgers—”
“Yeah, anything with hamburger, and I’m the king.”
“Hey, King Jake,” Nell scolded. “Get your skinny butt in gear! I got customers waiting.”
Jake chuckled. “Nell, you’re the reason I work day and night in this place. I love being sweet-talked by beautiful women.”
Nell snorted with disdain. She was nearly as round as she was tall and weighed a solid two-twenty. “You work day and night ‘cause you own the place, Jake.”
Hope smiled at their bantering. She was getting dangerously attached to them. She smoothed back her hair preparing to greet her customers.
“Ellen, get on in there now,” Nell chirped. “Lordy, you don’t have to primp like some fancy princess. How I got in the middle of royalty, a skinny-assed king and a prim and proper princess, I’ll never know!”
Laughing, Hope pushed open the swinging doors to begin earning her hard day’s pay. Her shift ended at eleven, but she stayed until midnight helping with the clean-up. Putting in extra time made for good job security. And, she felt safe at the diner.
Hope called out a tired goodnight, leaving in good spirits. But as she walked through the unfriendly darkness, her mood dampened. Infrequent streetlights cast long shadows along the way, and she sensed hidden danger as she hurried home. He had no right to do this, to change the way she looked at her world! Would she ever stop living in fear? Who am I kidding? I can’t imagine living without the fear of being found and taken back. How had it come to this? Her mentor had become her tormentor, her enemy her only ally, and her lover the greatest threat to her life!

He’d stopped at the diner for a late night snack and spotted her as she left. It fuckin’ can’t be, he thought, charging after her. The orders were to bring her back unharmed. The small, wiry man cursed. He’d grab her right now if not for that, but his car was parked too far away. What the hell good did finding her do if he couldn’t get his hands on her?