Total pages in book: 25
Estimated words: 22903 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 115(@200wpm)___ 92(@250wpm)___ 76(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 22903 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 115(@200wpm)___ 92(@250wpm)___ 76(@300wpm)
“Hi Elder Stott,” I greet in a low voice. “What can I do for you?”
He leans against the pew casually, his thin frame dressed in an ill-fitting blue button down and loose khakis. Honestly, this guy looks like Warren Jeffs, the convicted FLDS leader. He’s got the same thinning brown hair, oddly pale skin, and cold blue eyes. Not to mention the crooked yellow teeth and perpetually chapped lips, currently pulled up in a sneer.
“Hi Tanya,” he greets. “We haven’t seen you much around Sanctuary lately.”
I nod. I’ve never liked Elder Stott much because he’s always seemed too interested in the young women of our congregation. But I have to be polite.
“Yes, I’m just been busy with my job lately. But I want to come more, and am making it a priority.”
Those cold blue eyes narrow a bit.
“Really? Your job,” he says in a derisive tone. “But what job could be more important than the Lord? Is there anyone or anything more holy than our Savior, Jesus Christ?”
His questions are not only rhetorical, but reductive as well, and the blood simmers in my veins.
“I need to pay my rent and put food on the table,” I manage in an even tone. “So yes, I need to work, and I enjoy what I do as well. My position helps me express myself, and I find it very rewarding.”
Elder Stott squints again.
“But you’re at the Corinthian, right?” he asks. “What could you possibly be doing there?”
Okay, this guy is now just plain being insulting.
“I’m a wardrobe assistant for one of the shows at the Corinthian,” I say in a frigid voice. “Thunder Strike, for your information.”
His blue eyes grow cold with disgust.
“A male revue? Where male whores get up on stage and take off their clothes? Those things are an atrocity, and no respectable woman would be associated with that kind of act,” he spits.
I contemplate my next words carefully for a few moments, trying not to fly off the handle.
“Well, the dancers definitely aren’t whores, because they’re dancers. And believe you me, the show is all in good fun and people enjoy it. Besides, your daughter works at the Corinthian too, doesn’t she? Isn’t Kaci a cocktail waitress?” Actually, Elder Stott has no idea what Kaci is up to because his daughter has a reputation for being a total party girl. I mean, those cocktail waitresses don’t get big tips from being cold and unfriendly. The high rollers like them flirty, cute, and wearing as little as possible. In fact, I’ve heard that Kaci’s turned tricks for some of the billionaires who frequent the Corinthian, all under the table of course. These are just rumors, but clearly, Mike Stott shouldn’t be castigating me now, seeing what his daughter does for a living.
But he has no idea because when I glance at the older man, he looks miffed.
“Yes, but Kaci’s not like that. She’s not taking her clothes off like some of you repulsive women do.”
I bite my lip and narrow my eyes. Kaci’s doing a lot more than taking off her clothes from what I’ve heard, but I’m not going to tattle on her. That’s her business, and I’m not going to intrude. But still, I have to clear up this issue.
“I’m not taking off my clothes, Elder Stott,” I say in a tight voice. “I’m a wardrobe assistant, so I work backstage. I assure you, my clothes stay on for the entire show and never come off. Now if you don’t mind, I’m just going to get back to my prayers now."
But instead of leaving, the middle-aged man stays put and squints while surveying my belly. I swallow hard while discreetly trying to pull my sweater down, but he’s already shaking his head as his eyes rove over the small bulge there.
“Those Corinthian men are getting to you, aren’t they, Tanya? I knew it was a den of sin.”
“No,” I say in a firm voice. “No one is getting to me. This is the City of Sin, but it’s just a moniker, and in fact, the people who work at the Corinthian are respectable. They’re businesspeople.”
But Elder Stott just won’t give up. His blue eyes home in on my belly and he squints.
“You’re pregnant, aren’t you?” he presses on in disgust. “I can tell. Lots of girls get pregnant when they associate with corrupt outsiders.”
A sweat breaks out on my brow as rage rises in my chest. What the fuck is his problem? So yes, I’m pregnant. Yes, I did the Mormon Dick Soak, and it backfired spectacularly. But that’s not his business, and will never be his business.
“If you’ll just excuse me—” I try again, even bending my head and closing my eyes this time, determined to ignore this fool. But Elder Stott just won’t let it go.
“You had a covenant with God,” he hisses, that cold blue gaze landing on my promise ring. “And you had the temerity to break it? What a fucking whore! You’re an evil woman who deserves to be ex-communicated from this church, not to mention cast from the Garden of Eden like the original temptress herself, Eve! I’m going to see to it that you burn in Hell, do you understand? In Hell with all the rest of the fast and loose little girls that like to fuck men for a living—”