Total pages in book: 62
Estimated words: 58142 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 291(@200wpm)___ 233(@250wpm)___ 194(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 58142 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 291(@200wpm)___ 233(@250wpm)___ 194(@300wpm)
I can’t help but admire the men as they follow the two women into the kitchen. They’re all extremely attractive, and clearly besotted with their respective partners. I wish I could find a caring family man like that. I don’t even need four. One will do.
I wasted too much of my life on my ex, Justin. I thought he was The One, but I should have realized a lot sooner that he wasn’t right for me. I’ve been single now for six months but have barely been on any dates. My best friend, Becca, says I need to “get out there more” and maybe she’s right.
When I carry the empty bakery trays into the back, there are even more people there. Maddy’s family — her four men, Adam, Matthew, Joshua, and Jacob, and their two daughters, Amelia and Charlotte — have apparently come in through the back door, and the kitchen is nearly full to capacity.
“I didn’t know there was a party going on here,” I say, finding Maddy in the crowd.
“I guess we have an instant party whenever we all get together,” she says with a laugh.
“We’re actually headed to the harvest festival in Whitman,” Lacy says. “They have a special event for children this afternoon.”
“I’m going along for practice,” Bianca says, smoothing a hand over the front of her flowy top to reveal an unmistakable baby bump.
“Oh, congratulations! When is the baby due?” I ask.
“April,” Bianca says, her hand still on her belly.
“That’s so exciting!” I tell her, as her four men beam at her with pride and excitement.
“I’ll be ready to go in just a few minutes,” Maddy tells the group. “Then, I just need to make a quick delivery nearby before we leave the island.”
There’s a white box on the counter. “I can make the delivery,” I say, speaking up to be heard over the side conversations that have started among the men.
“Oh, but you’re already delivering the unsold bakery. Where is it going today?”
“The woman’s shelter,” I say.
“Let’s swap, then,” Maddy says. “The shelter isn’t too far from the festival. This one is local,” she says, handing me the box.
My eyebrows lift when I see the business name on the order slip that’s attached to the box, but I don’t say anything. I’m full of questions, but maybe Maddy wouldn’t want everyone in this group to know where the box is going.
Since when do strip clubs order baked goods?
2
Perfection
Club Red is only a few blocks away, and even though I’ve never been there, I’m very familiar with it.
It’s been a frequent topic of conversation at my parents’ house ever since they first learned of its plan to open on Four Points. I heard all about how disastrous the male revue club would be for the island, and how it would ruin our community, luring innocent women into sinful activities. My mom and dad gathered names on a petition and went to town council meetings to try to prevent the club from coming here, but they weren’t successful in their mission.
The club has been open for about a month and doesn’t seem to be hurting the town in any way that I can see. It’s probably been helping to boost other island businesses during the off-season, when things are usually slow.
Apparently they’re helping Maddy’s business, too, since they’ve placed a bakery order.
I’m not morally against strip clubs, but I also wouldn’t ever go to one. Becca works in a bar where everyone keeps their clothes on, and I never go there either. Maybe it’s my upbringing, but it’s just not my thing.
So I’m a little nervous, but I couldn’t exactly tell Maddy that I refused to make the delivery right after I’d just offered to do so. Based on the parking lot, it doesn’t look like anything is going on at the club right now. There are only a couple of cars, and I hope that means that no one will be on stage at this time of day.
A couple of times, I’ve driven by at night and the parking lot was packed like a mall on Black Friday. I’ve also overheard women talking about the club — women who, unlike my parents, sounded extremely supportive of the new addition to the island’s entertainment options.
I circle the building in my car, looking for a delivery door, but nothing is marked except the front entrance. After straightening my black and tan plaid skirt, smoothing my white blouse, and making sure the low ponytail I always wear to work is still in place, I retrieve the bakery box from the car and take a deep breath.
What am I afraid of? No one will be stripping in the middle of the afternoon, and if they are, what will it matter? I can avert my eyes. It’s not like someone’s going to attack me.