For Abbie. Happy Birthday! I know it's early, but it may take me that long to write it. Love ya, sis. :)

Chapter One

"I have to be honest with you Abbie; I don't think I can place you at this time."

Abbie's heart dropped. High hopes had filled her dreams the entire night after passing by the "Maids Needed" sign the night before. A job on the bottom of the ladder, only above trash collector, surely she could obtain work cleaning toilets and dusting shelves in someone's home or business.

"But the sign said positions needed to be filled immediately."

"Yes, but you're not qualified for those positions. I'll call you …"

"Really?" zipping her purse forcefully before slinging it over her shoulder, she spat. "How? Did you read my application Ms. Poconel, because if you did, you would have noticed that I left the phone number block blank."

"Then I suggest you fill it in." Threw gritted teeth, the lady at the employment agency fidgeted, apparently uneasy with Abbie's arguments that her eyes stared listlessly at the computer screen. "Please do so and have a nice day."

"No – no." The sidewalk outside that front door had offered her no protection from the light rain the night before, but Abbie had to be the first in line. "You can't deny me. Come on? How hard could it be to clean. I mean I know how to use a broom, a mop – a – a– a toilet brush. I really need a job."

How dare this woman? Playing with people's lives the way she did while they sat in front of her, heart palpitating to the edge of a heart attack, sweat threatening to drip down their brows while they waited for a yes or no from her lips. Who was she to possess such power? Did she realize or care that the income she could give or deny was the same as deciding whether someone lived or died?

Ms. Poconel was the judge, jury and executioner, at least in Abbie's world and she couldn't even see the face of the young, brunette, whose eyes begged for this one last chance to go her way and become her salvation.

"Please." The sorrowful, pleading tasted bitter in her mouth and stung her throat as it erupted.

"Fine." Ms. Poconel slid heavy frames off her face and rubbed the red marks they left behind, replaced them, then scornfully scanned the blond from head to toe.

Was she reconsidering? Taking a chance on her? Abbie's heart raced, she felt it through her worn blouse. A month living on the streets was more than she could take. This job would mean a warm winter, a real bed, hot showers and meals that did not have a previous owner.

"I tried to avoid this, Abbie, but I'm just going to be honest, since you obviously won't leave until you hear it. You're appearance is less than disdainful. There is dirt on your pants, a stain on your shirt and they're wrinkled beyond belief. You're hair is greasy and unwashed and honestly dear, you have an odor that trails behind even after you've left the room and that is why I cannot give you a job. This agency could not possibly send you out there wearing our logo. What would that say about us? We're a cleaning service and a dirty employee would bring doubt in our standards. Now, are you satisfied?"

"I didn't mean to offend you or your company, Ms. Poconel. I've had some problems. Truthfully, I've had more than a few problems. I'm homeless and I'm trying. I've been trying so hard to better myself. I just need a job."

"I can't. Good-bye Abbie."

Defeated, tears streaming down her face, Abbie slid down the outside wall of the agency. The world was so cruel, casting her out, her stepfather unable to wait another month for her eighteenth birthday to throw her out. He could have warned her. Told her that he only kept her after her mother's death because he didn't want his deceased wives friends to look down on him and cause their husbands to take their business elsewhere.

He probably told them she run off, or was away to college or traveling with her friends in Europe like she had planned before finding her belongings on the front stoop the night of her graduation. Boxes of items she had to leave behind, taking only a backpack of personal items, hoping a friend would take her in. Then she found out that she had no friends without her stepfather's money. So, she rambled the streets, hunting work. Her grades were good in school, good enough to gain her acceptance into college, but not good enough to win a scholarship, so that path road blocked. After a week, her hopes diminished as she was turned down time and time again. There were no jobs and ones that needed helped told her they would let her know. Now she knew they were just being nice and wanted her out of their place.

"What now?" He bag had been stolen the night before, taking the clothes she had washed for the job interview as well. And all in vain, she had nothing now. Nothing at all and it wasn't fair. It wasn't her fault her mother died and her stepfather resented her so why was she being punished for simply being alive?

The next morning she was awakened by an officer, poking at her with his baton, urging her away from the agency. She did as he asked and made her way to the back of a nearby coffee shop. Her stomach knew it was breakfast time and the trashcans would have to be her diner.

A blueberry muffin, used as an ashtray laid on a bed of used napkins, but it was still warm. Abbie pulled out the butt and the surrounding muffin until she was sure it was completely removed and popped a bite into her mouth. Still disgusting, but it no longer made her stomach churn to do it. It hurt it more to remain empty.

"What luck?" She exclaimed when she found a nearly full bottle of orange juice. It was a small, personal sized bottle, but it was the first sweet drink to pass her lips since she had left home and it tasted good, despite being nearly ruined.

Three years came and went and Abbie slept outside the agency and begged for a job from Ms. Poconel every day, but her efforts went unrewarded. Sure, she tried for other jobs, but with no results. Still, she dreamed a much different dream than she had before her graduation. No longer desiring a career, or a marriage or money, but a place of her own, warm and dry and out of danger. A run down trailer or apartment would do. Anything was better than what she had.

That winter was promising to be the worse they had seen in years and August nights left her teeth chattering. She dreaded the months to come, knowing deep in her heart that she would not survive against it. Once again Ms. Poconel turned her down and added a threat to have her arrested if she continued to sleep on the sidewalk in front of her business and it sounded like a good idea to her, so she sat in the lobby and warmed herself for a bit and listened while a man in a long black overcoat argued with the owner.

"How dare you propose such a thing to one of my employees. If I knew for a moment that you expected such evil I would have never sent anyone to you."

"the girls you've sent have all been more than willing to fulfill my clients needs and you get a huge commission. He's coming back to town this week and he will need a house keeper and cook. One girl this time should be fine."

"This is not a bordello. I doubt even the homeless girl would be desperate enough to take your job. Good day Mr. Hayman."

Curousity took over and Abbie followed the man outside wondering how awful the job he offered must be if the agency turned him away. Yet, she would be grateful. If only …

"Hey, you. What's your name?"

"Abbie."

"You the homeless girl the old bitch inside mentioned."

"I guess." She shrugged.

"Do you or do you not live on the street and sleep next to the door here?"

"Yes." Meekly she stared at her feet, embarrassed.

"You want a job, get in the car."

Please Review.