Emergency Engagement. Michele Dunaway

his conscience demanded he fix it. “Let me help.”

      “You can’t.”

      Sure he could. He could solve any problem he set his mind to, except perhaps with his family. “Let me pay your security deposit for a new apartment. I’ll even pay the first month’s rent. You can pay me back whenever.”

      “I don’t take charity.”

      “It’s not charity. Consider it a loan. A favor. In fact, you can repay me with one.”

      Beth shook her head. “I won’t take loans. Not from individuals. They end up being charity. And I dislike favors. They have to be repaid at too high a cost.”

      “Yet you’d strip to earn the money.”

      “Stripping was work. Not politically correct, but honest. I’m not a hooker and I don’t strip bare. I’ve only done it a few times—a long time ago. It’s quick money. I needed that money. But I waited too long—I didn’t think Mr. Anderson would really evict me, not after the past few years I’ve had.” She swallowed.

      She was so tired, so sick of fighting to eke out an existence. Still, she pressed on. “You wouldn’t know what it’s like to be poor, would you? You wouldn’t know how hard it is to put food on the table, to make sure your child doesn’t suffer. You wouldn’t know…” She suddenly saw two of Quinton.

      Both Quinton’s spoke. “Beth, you don’t look good. You’re pale and…”

      “I’m fine,” Beth said. “I’m just fine.” She was always fine. She couldn’t afford not to be.

      And then, as if fate mocked her, the world went black.