Listen, I've thought of something-" Why are you really here Mr. Devlin?", she cut him.He leaned against the kitchen counter. "What do you mean Miss La...son?" I mean that you can't be here just to help me solve my problems. Or fix me an omelet", she added as an afterthought."You haven't figured it out yet, have you?" He decided to tell her the truth. She would never believe it and for some perverse reason that made him feel safe. "I'm here because I'm mad about you and I want to help you".He held. I did not want to be alone for this so I invited my tennis friend Becky. I had just renewed my friendship with her after a lapse of nearly two years. She had been with me at the tennis courts on that day when I was served the legal process that was to begin my enslavement. After I won my freedom I learned that Becky had tried several times to visit me when I was a slave at Masterson Automotive but was informed that I was allowed no visitors. After I regained my freedom Becky and I spent much. More

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