Page 88 of Fake Shot

“The woman wanted a silicone ring,” Colt tells Rosie. “And I insisted on something a bit more...traditional.” He reaches into his pocket. “It’s funny, though, because I just picked this up for you today.”

He holds out his hand and in his palm rests a silicone ring made up of small gold dots linked together. I had no idea they made silicone rings in anything other than plain bands. “It’s actually...beautiful.”

He looks down at me with his lips quirked up slightly in a knowing smile. “It reminded me of the gold disk on the necklace you always wear.” Instinctively, I reach up and run the disk with the stars between my thumb and forefinger, and then Colt takes my hand and slides the ring onto my finger. “That’s better.”

“Alright,” Rosie says, her voice overly loud. We both turn to look at her, where she’s sitting with Morgan still standing next to her, fanning her face. “Now I’m about to cry because you two are too cute. So before I go and ruin my mascara, can we film this video?”

We all laugh, and then Colt says, “Okay if I stay?”

I’m about to tell him that it’s better if we have some privacy for this, when Rosie says, “Of course you can.”

When Morgan begins recording, Rosie shocks the hell out of me by starting out talking about her abusive ex-boyfriend and how she escaped that situation, all so she could give her daughter a better life.

She explains how isolating electrical school felt because there were only three women in the entire program, and how hard it had been to build connections with her classmates or see herself being successful in that field.

“And then, one day, they announced a guest speaker. It was an optional thing, after classes were already over, and I almost didn’t go because it meant I’d have to pay for an extra hour of babysitting, and Lord knows I didn’t have the money for that. But something told me I needed to be there.”

My throat tightens, and Colt wraps his arm around my abdomen, pulling me back against him again.

“And there was this woman, all blonde and looking like Construction Barbie, talking about how weneededmore women in the trades, and how she was organizing a mentoring program to connect women in trade school with women already working in the field. At that point, I was almost ready to give up on this path. I could have just dismissed her, thinking that her experience and mine were too different. What could this woman, who looked and talked like she was some rich girl from the city, possibly know about helping a woman like me? As it turns out”—Rosie turns to face the camera, moving her long hair back over her shoulder so the jagged, raised scar along her cheek is clearly visible—“everything. See, one of the things Jules taught me is that some of us wear our scars on the outside...” She points at her own face. “But some people wear their scars on the inside and use their pain to help others.”

Her eyes flick to mine, and she notes the tears streaming down my face before she looks directly at the camera. “I’m so glad I didn’t let my initial assumptions, based on nothingmore than outward appearance, dissuade me. Because this mentoring program...it saved me. Not only did it provide the guidance and support I needed to figure out how to make it through electrical school, but it’s also helped me line up the work experience I need before I can sit for my exam and get my journeyman license. Now that I’m working and have a steady income, it’s the first time in my life I feel like I can breathe. I have absolutely no doubt that the day I earn that license is the day I fully break the cycle of poverty and abuse I was born into. And I’m equally certain that without this mentoring program, I wouldn’t have been able to do it.”

I’m pressing my fist into my lips so hard I can taste blood, but it’s the only thing preventing my sob from escaping. I knew we’d helped Rosie, and a dozen other women like her, but I honestly didn’t know how much. And it kills me that we have a waiting list and can’t help more people until we get the funding to expand the program.

At this point, Rosie breaks down crying, and I don’t even think about it before I step out of Colt’s arms so that I can cross the room and wrap her in my embrace. “You healed me too...I hope you know that. You showed me what true strength looks like.”

A million thoughts are running through my mind at this point—thoughts of gratitude for the privilege that’s allowed me to do this work, and sadness for the women who have walked this path before me all alone. But none of the thoughts are screaming louder for my attention than the one that says, “You need donors NOW.”At a minimum, we need to hire someone to run the nonprofit—to recruit and coordinate the mentors and mentees, to handle all the administrative stuff that I simply don’t have time for.

I think back to how both Jameson and Colt have offered donations. I said no, initially, because of my pride. Because I didn’t want the mentoring program to succeed based on relatives donating, I wanted it to succeed because other people in the industry saw the need and recognized how we met it.

But does it really matter where the money comes from, if it helps us do the work we need to do? And once the foundation is in place, maybe that will free me and Audrey up to look for other donors.

Rosie pulls back, saying she needs a minute to collect herself, and she’s going to step outside. I point her toward the sliding glass door off the living room that leads to the tiny backyard, and she steps through.

“Wow,” Morgan says. “That was . . . powerful.”

I wipe my face and turn toward her and Colt, who stands slightly behind her where I left him. “Yeah. I wasn’t expecting to get so emotional.”

“I think that’s how you know the work is worth it,” Morgan says. She glances at me and then over her shoulder at Colt. “You know, I think I need a minute too. I’m going to take a quick walk.” She turns and heads out the front door, leaving us alone in the living room.

Tenderness lines his features as he gazes at me with what I can only describe as some combination of love and pride. “I hope you know how amazing you are.”

I wipe under my eyes again, hoping I’ve gotten most of the streaked mascara off my cheeks. “Remember when you offered to donate? I hope you have your checkbook ready,” I say.

He steps up close and wraps his arms around me. “There’s no one I’d rather invest in than you.”

“So,” Morgan says as she takes a sip of her drink and eyes our friends where they sit around the table now littered with drinks and appetizers. “Since Jules isn’t telling you what happened this afternoon, I guess I will.”

“It wasn’t a big deal,” I say, shooting her a look.

“Like hell it wasn’t,” she says, then shares the story of filming Rosie’s testimonial, beginning with Colt giving me a new ring and ending with Rosie and me sobbing in each other’s arms.

“Holy crap,” Audrey says. “I can’t believe I missed that. Theoneday I have an offsite meeting?” She’d been at the house of our next clients, reviewing their renovation plans so we can order the necessary materials once they’re approved.

“You missed the best part,” I tell Morgan as I reach into my purse for the check, then hold it up in front of me with two hands.

“How many zeros is that?” Audrey asks, snatching the check from my fingers. She looks at it, then up at me. “Are you for real?”

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