Thank you for the reviews on my last story, I hope you enjoy this one just the same if not more!
And I don't know how you guys feel about religion, but I hope no-one is too offended by this storyline :)
brittanyZVAmoore : the song Troy is singing in 'Upside Down' is one I made up!
CHAPTER 1
"Father, forgive me, I have sinned."
"What is your sin my child?"
"I sleep with men. Lots of them. I'm supposed to be pure and virginal and-"
"God will not hate you for your sin. He only asks that you repent."
"Do you hate me father?"
"No, my child."
"I'm not really a child."
"I know."
"Do you see me as your child?"
"I see you as a member of my congregation."
"Not as a hooker from Vegas?"
"We're a progressive church."
"Must be to take hookers…"
"Do you have any other worries?"
A sigh. "I have nowhere to sleep tonight."
"The Chapel has a hostel for homeless women in need."
"It's full, I asked."
"I'm sorry that we can't help you." He sounded sorry, too.
"It's okay. I have a friend."
"Just one?"
"When I say friend, I mean client."
"When you leave confession, sit in the second pew. I'll meet you out there."
"No, it's okay…"
He heard the door of the confessional open and close again with a heavy thud, launching him from his seat to save the troubled youngster in his care. Only when he threw his confession box door open, all he saw was a streak of raven waved hair disappearing out into the sunlight like ribbons of black night.
"Who are you?" Reverend Troy Bolton asked himself. And why are you alone?
/
Gabriella Montez slicked red lipstick onto her bowed lips and looked down her nose into the public restroom mirror, repeating her mantra to give herself courage enough to work tonight.
She did quite well, she had a great figure and a beautiful face and she was often envy to the band of prostitutes parading the darkened streets of Kenward.
It meant she could have one busy week, and then a week off. Only not many landlords approved of her form of income and finding digs had increasingly difficult until she'd had no choice but to accept a flat from Juan. Her job was unusual and she still wasn't sure how it happened, she just knew it had.
She'd come to America from Fisher's Island as an immigrant, desperate to leave her war-torn home and she had found herself limited for income options. She didn't know if her family were dead or alive and she couldn't risk finding out, because if she went home now, she would never come back and although her new life was not what she expected, she loved it in Vegas.
At night the lights would awe her, at day she would enjoy her surroundings. And when she did meet the odd person who took pity, she was reminded about the strength of human kindness.
"Nice boots." Estelle approved from the doorway, flicking a look over Gabi's outfit.
"They're new." Gabi affirmed, twisting her shapely leg to show off the over-the-knee patent red leather design.
"We're getting a little fed up of seeing you round here, Montez." Estelle said and Gabi looked up, nervous at the mention of 'we', when Estelle was the only one inside the restroom.
Gabi feigned indifference and pursed her blood-red lips, her fake lashes batting to her cheeks. "I have as much right to be here as you."
"Not quite. You take all the trade. One look at you and the rest of us got no hope." Estelle folded her arms.
"I don't have much choice, same as you." Gabi sighed.
"You can find another strip to parade."
"This is my home." Gabi argued.
"Only you're not from round here, are you?" The other woman argued.
Gabi rolled her eyes. "I live here now, don't I?"
"I'm asking you nicely to leave."
"I'm sorry." Was all she said.
Estelle let out a whistle and Gabi widened her eyes in horror as three other women filed in, all with the intent to threaten her.
"Hey, come on…" She begged with fearful eyes.
"I asked…" Estelle lifted her brow.
"We don't want you here." Another woman said, a strong looking black girl that Gabi didn't relish fighting.
She pressed her lips in, surrounded and caged in by these women.
"Ok, fine, I'll go. Just please don't hurt me…"
"Too late, princess…" Estelle advanced as the group followed suit and closed in.
And it really was too late. Gabi was punished for her beauty, something beyond her control.
/
"What have you got?" Taylor McKessie asked as Troy shouldered into the Chapel wing with as much care and quiet he could manage.
"She got beat up," he said, his blue eyes gleaned with tears and his voice cracking with emotion as he carried the carcass of a petite Latino, one who had clearly been injured quite badly.
"Oh, Troy," Taylor went over and rubbed a hand across his shoulders, feeling his pain as much as the young girl's.
"I'm going to take her to the private wing and put her in the room next to me. Can you bring some supplies through, Tay?" He begged.
Dr. Taylor McKessie was Troy's lifeline. A full time day doctor at Nevada Clinic for Women, she spent every spare hour tending to his needy women's shelter victims just as he did. Only his job kind of required it, Taylor just did it out of the kindness of her heart- and her affection for him.
"Has she been out cold for long?" Taylor worried as she watched Troy lay the unknown girl tenderly on the wide bed, cocking her head at his gentility.
"Since I found her twenty minutes ago." He confirmed.
"Oh, god," she sighed, quickly moving across the room and leaning across the bed as Troy stepped back and prayed to his big boss that she would be ok.
The very same girl who had confessed to him on Sunday, the same one who asked for help and he couldn't give it. The one he had worried about for two days straight was now laying bloodied and bruised and he couldn't help but think that it was all his fault.
Had she been beaten up as a threat to pay her drugs bill? It was so common with these hookers; it wouldn't surprise him, only she hadn't sounded like she had a habit. Then what? Who would do this?
He ran a hand through his neat, cropped hair and frowned, his strikingly handsome face marred with worry lines as his sky eyes flicked back and forth while he stood, thinking.
"Troy, get some fresh clothes, I'm going to examine her." Taylor told him, ejecting him from the room while she carried out the personal inspection of his latest charge.
He came back in with sweat pants and a t-shirt, finding that Taylor had covered her with a blanket.
"She'll be okay, but once she's dressed bring her round." Taylor instructed.
"Aren't you going to dress her?" He asked.
"I can't stay. Chad called me and told me the engagement's off if I spend one more minute with another man," she arched her brow.
"I can't…" He began.
"Okay, here-" She took the clothing from him and quickly dressed the small girl in his care, walking by him as he looked over to the bed and gazed forlornly upon the bruised victim laying there.
"She'll be frightened, Troy. Just like the others. You know what to do." Taylor said at the door.
"Not really," he mused.
"Just be yourself." Taylor smiled and left without a departing notice.
He found himself wandering over to the intriguing beauty, his gaze flicking over her bruised, but now cleaned, face. He sat down on the bed and stroked a hand over her forehead and down her hair, offering comfort.
"What happened?" He husked. "I wish you could tell me."
Two brown eyes flicked open and he stood up guiltily, seemingly making her nervous.
"Who are you?" She gasped, sitting up quickly, then wincing and laying back down again.
"I'm Reverend Bolton." He supplied quickly. "I run the Rainbow Church."
"Where am I?"
"In my Chapel chamber."
"Why does everything hurt?" She squinted, her breaths fast and panicked but curbed by the pain in her side.
"You were beaten up." He supplied softly, his utter devastation at this fact evident.
Her eyes widened and her face struck fear as her memory clearly came flooding back.
"Oh, god…" She looked over to him, flicked her gaze down his body- one that showed he worked out quite a lot, she mused. He was wearing black boots, jeans and a long sleeve white top, something she never expected to see a reverend wearing. Especially not with cropped, sexy hair, too.
"Do you remember who did this?" He asked.
"Are you really a Reverend?" she checked.
"Yes."
"You look kinda sexy to be a Reverend." She offered honestly and watched him blush.
"I joined the church at eighteen." He supplied as if this might convince her.
"Wow. Way to take the hot ones," she told whoever was listening above.
"Who hurt you?" He asked again.
"Just some girls who thought I was ruining their chances of work." She admitted.
"How?"
"Apparently I'm beautiful." She derided.
"What's your name?" He wondered, tilting his head as he thought yes, in actual fact she was beautiful. But he didn't think she deserved being beaten for it.
"Gabriella. You can call me Gabi." She offered.
"I'm Troy," he introduced back, stepping closer and sitting on the bed edge again.
"Shouldn't I call you Rev?" She smirked.
"In here I'm not Reverend Bolton. I'm just Troy."
"Okay," she nodded.
"Can I get you anything- a drink?" He asked.
"Do you have any milk? I didn't eat for two days straight…" She explained and he flicked another look down her tiny body under the covers, imagining her slim and under-nourished body.
"I'll get you some bread and butter, too." He said, rising to fetch her food.
"Troy?"
He turned at the door.
"Thank you for bringing me here. Thank you for saving me."
/
Troy normally took breakfast in his own quarters, but not today. Nor any day he had a new member joining his growing safe-house. He liked to go down and visit the girls in his care, hear their banter and laughter and welcome the newbie into the fold.
As he came into the community breakfast room, the previous chatter dulled a little and one of the women at the table spoke.
"Morning Father." Rachel called out and he smiled at her, quickly scanning the group and not finding a head of raven hair like he hoped.
"Morning Rachel. Morning everyone," he smiled, his relaxed attire something they were slowly getting used to even though they would insist on calling him father.
He did ask that they call him Troy, he didn't feel old enough to be a father but his job kind of dictated his title.
"Do we have someone new staying?" Yvette asked from across the table as Troy sat down.
"Yeah, we do. But she's not up yet." He explained, eating his granola with big, boyish mouthfuls while the women around him stared at him. "What?"
"What's her name, then?" Eve asked expectantly from further down the large oak table.
"Gabi," he smiled. "Her name is Gabi."
"Is she…" Rachel didn't finish speaking but Troy knew what she was asking.
"She got hurt. She's resting in the chapel wing." He answered.
Rachel nodded and went back to her breakfast while Troy went around the table and asked each of them about their lives- had they found work? Did they get an apartment yet? Were they happy?
He rose a short while later with an arm full of snacks, flashing them all a wide grin. "Behave, ladies," he instructed.
They all crowed back at him as he ventured down the corridor linking the hostel to his quarters, pausing outside the guest room before he knocked.
He went inside despite there being no answer and he smiled as he found Gabi fast asleep on her front, just her mane of black curls visible above the duvet. The way she was clinging to the duvet made him ache inside- she looked like she hadn't slept in a comfortable bed in a long, long time.
He cleared his throat and wandered over, placing her breakfasts stuffs at the end of the bed before stroking his hand over her back gently.
"Gabi…" He called softly.
The ball of hair stirred and groaned and she lifted her head to open her eyes to him.
"Breakfast," he explained as she squinted at him.
"I don't think I can move," she planted her face back down before rolling over like a log- in one big, heavy movement.
Troy flicked his eyes over her face, checking her bruises, his heart sinking at the sight of her black eye. He itched to run his thumb across her cheek and blinked at the urge, quickly shaking it away.
"Are you okay?" He checked.
"I don't think there's one part of me that doesn't hurt." She admitted softly.
"I'm sorry." He pressed his lips in. "Have something to eat and I can give you painkillers?" He suggested to which she nodded and awkwardly dragged herself into a sitting position.
"You brought croissants?" Her wide amber eyes met his.
"Sure…"
"I feel like you know me already," she smiled, reaching for them, wincing when her ribs contested the movement.
Troy reached down and passed her the items, going over to pull back her curtains.
"Do you have belongings?" He asked, looking back over his shoulder.
"Mm-mm," she nodded, eating like a starved child, shoving pastry into her mouth.
"We can go get them today. You can stay here until you're better." He offered.
She paused her shovelling and looked up, swallowing her mouthful. "I can't." She said very quietly, looking back to the duvet.
"Why not?" He wondered.
"My boss will wonder where I am." She admitted, her tone and body language demonstrating her fear.
Troy blinked and held his angry breath in, praying upwards for forgiveness.
"Let me deal with your boss." He suggested in a protective tone she hadn't expected.
It left her mesmerised at the contrast of it all. Here he was, a Reverend- a messenger of God- living his life in the cleanest way possible and he was about the handsomest devil of a man she had met. He was dressed in jeans, a long sleeve top layered with a t-shirt and his body was strong and muscled and from what she could tell, perfectly formed. Right down to his booted feet. How on earth such an obviously hot guy could give himself up to God was beyond her. God should be less selfish and give him back to woman kind, she mused. His body deserved to be seen.
And then this. He had the gentlest, most careful hands and the most controlled way of moving around, yet his words were husky with threat. He had done this before, she realised. He had saved another girl from her drugged up pimp and his faith had survived despite it.
"Does God allow that?" She wondered with interest, popping the last mouthful of croissant into her mouth.
Troy smiled a little. "This is Vegas. There has to be concessions."
"You make your own rules," she nodded. "My kinda guy."
"I guess he'd rather the pimp got beat than you." He shrugged, rationalising his protection. "I'm here to help you out of the hole you're in."
Gabi nodded thoughtfully and rolled toward the bed edge, carefully standing with a few winces, flicking her eyes up as Troy stepped forward to help her, then stopped himself.
"Its ok, Rev. I trust you." She assured and he softened, stepping up to act as a brace for her as she wobbled on her feet.
"Where are you going?" He wondered.
"It's not what you want to hear, but I'm going back."
"Why?" He begged, watching her limp toward the chair that housed her fishnet tights, boots and revealing shorts and basque.
"Because my life depends on it." She smiled grimly.
"I can help you, Gabriella."
"I know," she smiled a tiny smile, pulling on her boots and rolling her sweat pants over them. "I just have to, okay?"
He pressed his lips in and frowned. "How do I know you'll be okay?"
"I always am." She assured. "Thank you for taking care of me."
"At least let me-" He strode toward her, trying to offer her a ride but she held up her hand.
"I can't be seen with you. You'll get hurt."
He shook his head and ran his fingers through his attractively cropped hair. "You can come back, any time." He insisted.
"Thank you." She nodded as she limped away and Troy felt every fibre of his being screaming out not to let her go, only what else could he do? He could make it worse if he got involved and although he cared about every one of his adopted family like they were his own sisters, he'd never felt this deep need before. It wasn't enough that he'd got her clean and fed her. He wanted her to be part of his safe-house. He wanted her to be free of her grim life.
But she was gone. And he couldn't do anything more than stand and fist his hands in frustration.