Page 75 of Faking the Shot

When she’d asked Diana how she had gotten involved in the ministry, she had mentioned learning about women who had been caught in sex slavery, and how she’d been challenged about loving her world. So when she heard about what Glenda did, taking food and toiletries to the women who worked here, she wanted to be a part of that.

“You ready?” Diana asked in a low voice, as they exited the van and retrieved the gift baskets.

Ainsley nodded.

“If it makes you feel any better, you don’t look very Ainsley Beckett-like today.”

“I tried.”

Old jeans. No makeup. Hair in a ponytail. Today, she wasn’t an actress. Just a servant. A servant of God.

Glenda was met by a bouncer, who led them through the building to the dressing room. The room didn’t look too dissimilar to places she’d been in. Mirrors. Lights. Makeup. Hair products. It was just that the clothing was very different. Glenda was right. Eyes up was best.

Glenda introduced herself and the other ladies. “And we’re blessed to have Ainsley join us too today.”

Ainsley nodded, small-smiled, and gave a little wave. She didn’t want these ladies recognizing her and being distracted or put off by her being an actress.

She joined Glenda, Diana, and the others in distributing gift baskets containing cosmetics, toiletries and non-perishable foods. “I hope you enjoy.”

The dancers she spoke with were normal, sonormal, showing pictures of their kids, chatting about cooking, makeup, hairstyles, and staying in shape.

“You’re really pretty,” one woman—Destiny—said. “What do you do, Ainsley?”

How to answer without freaking anyone out, or make them think she was here for a story? “I work in TV,” she murmured. “How about you? How long have you been working here?”

“Five years.”

Five years. Five years of wearing tassels and high heels and not much else.

From what the ladies shared, she was soon able to join some dots and learn a little about their stories. Some women here might brazen it out, saying they were making money for school, or paying off debts. But others seemed more fragile, bruised by life, like a twist of fate had made them think they had no choice but to showcase their bodies in this way, ogled by men in this seedy place. It needn’t take too much. A bad relationship that had forced them from home. Men who had taunted and chipped away at their self-respect until this seemed their only option. Kids who needed food because their father had left. She pressed her lips together, blinked back tears.

“We gotta go. Our shift starts soon,” one of the other dancers said.

“We’ll go then,” Glenda said. “Thank you for letting us come. And if there’s anything we can pray for you about, then please, let us know.”

Ainsley offered a small smile, and exited, head lowered. She didn’t want to see the patrons here. They were as broken as the young women she’d just met.

She exited outside, went to the van, as overwhelming emotion leaked out in tears. How long had she judged women in that profession? It was only by the grace of God that her family—broken as it had been—had supported her and helped her stand strong when Baden had tried to break her spirit and led her down paths that were ungodly. That was God’s grace, not her own efforts. If her life had taken a few different turns, then she could’ve been on the receiving end of that gift basket.

Diana patted her back, handed her a tissue. “I know. It’s a lot, isn’t it?”

She wiped her tears. “I like to think I’m not judgmental, but I have been.”

“I think we all have been.”

She nodded, blew her nose. “Oh, these ladies so need Jesus.”

“We all do.”

Glenda placed a gentle hand on Ainsley’s back. “I’ve been coming for over a year now, but they’re making changes. Some of them are now making real prayer requests. At first, it was just silly things, but now they know we’re here to love them and not just condemn.”

“There’s too much condemnation in this world,” another woman murmured.

“That’s right.” Glenda sighed. “The last time we were here, one of the women said to me that she was so glad we come to visit them because we’re not like the other churches.”

“What did she mean?”

“Apparently other churches send them hate mail all the time.”

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