Chapter Twenty-Three
Holy shit, this was really happening.
Eve had expected delays, red tape, asses to kiss. But somehow, the town inspector had not only approved the rear yard of the
club for a designated outdoor space, but their contractor’s plans had been approved.
And thus, they’d broken ground on the Jam Jar.
Did going pedal to the metal on the addition scare her? Yes. But she didn’t have time to debate the pros and cons when she
was digging her way out of debt. Although, with the influx of customers, thanks to Full Bush Rhonda and her influential grandkids,
the Gilded Garden was edging its way out of the red. Eve’s gut told her to trust Veda’s vision and that’s what she was doing.
Some might call her leap of faith shortsighted, but she’d been a girl with a dream and a dollar once too. It wasn’t a coincidence
she and Veda had found each other.
Eve shifted her travel mug of coffee in her hands, trying to swallow the sense of being invaded.
Not easy when a construction crew was leaving a path of dusty footprints on the pristine oak floors of the Gilded Garden.
Lumber made itself to the rear acre balanced on hefty shoulders, a table saw whirred outside beneath the low canopy of trees.
An expansive plot had been dug and was being reinforced with steel rebar and mesh, awaiting a concrete pour—the spot that would one day be a patio, while other members of the crew worked on the stage.
Veda waved at her from across the chaos, but her usual smile was missing, which appeared to be due to her boyfriend. He’d
traded his vintage tough guy look for paint-splattered jeans and the company T-shirt, though he still had a bandanna hanging
from his back pocket. He made an irritated gesture at Veda and she closed her eyes, appearing to take a deep breath, before
walking away to join Eve.
“Hey,” Eve greeted her.
“Hey,” Veda said, forcing a chipper tone. “Crazy how this was just an idea in my pretty little head and now it’s a construction
zone, right?”
“I agree that it’s crazy.” When normally Veda would have laughed or made a self-deprecating joke, she slumped a little, instead,
so Eve rushed to qualify her statement. “Crazy in a good way, I mean.”
“Yeah,” Veda said with a nod, obviously trying to sound bright. “Speaking of ideas, I had another one I wanted to run past
you. The GoFundMe is still bringing in donations—we’re nearly at forty thousand. But I thought . . . what about a live fundraiser?
You don’t open the club on Sundays. We could do it then, so it wouldn’t interfere with the schedule.”
Eve cataloged Veda’s excited energy and wanted to be supportive, but her mind immediately conjured up an auction or a bake
sale. “Hmm. What are you picturing?”
Veda framed the stage with her raised hands.
“The All-Nighters would play a gig, but we’d also have burlesque performances in between sets.
Sort of a way to fuse the two—music and performance art.
Merged into one venue. We’ll ticket the event and put a portion of it toward the reno.
You could use a chunk toward the bills.” She shrugged.
“I think people will be more inclined to donate if they can see the renovation in progress. Roped off, of course. What do you think?”
“I think you’re brilliant, actually,” Eve said honestly, staring at the stage and envisioning a whole new scene. Rockabilly
burlesque. Somehow the marriage of the two was the perfect fit she’d never considered until now. “I’ll schedule staff and
dancers for Sunday, if you can handle the band.”
“Consider it handled,” Veda said, rocking back on her heels.
“Now.” Eve hooked an arm through Veda’s and tugged her into the unlit lounge, out of earshot of any construction workers.
“Come on. Let’s go sit in my office, so you can tell me what’s been bothering you.”
Veda blew a raspberry. “You already know it’s a man. It’s always a man.” They wound their way through the seating area to
the backstage space, continuing through the door of Eve’s office where she flipped on her brass desk lamp. “I’m really starting
to think they’re not worth the hassle, honestly. Mood killers, every last one of them.”
For the millionth time since he’d left her in a confused, gelatinous state in the building parking lot, Eve thought of Madden.
He definitely hadn’t killed the mood that night. No, he’d read her mood and matched it. He’d . . . oh my god. Given her the peak sexual experience of her life. Granted,
she’d been a virgin, but she’d grown up in a strip club and currently owned a bar, which meant she heard a lot of gripes. Women lamenting their lack of a spark in the bedroom with their partners or disappointed with hookups that had
seemed so promising. She was wise enough to know it was rare for a woman to be so satisfied she walked around in a zombie
state, the way Eve had been doing for the past week.
Deal’s off, Eve. I want more than six months.
Some enlightened part of her wanted to scoff at Madden’s parting shot. She’d waited for Madden to be her first time and now he was placing too much importance on a hymen. How silly.
But . . . it wasn’t silly.
Because waiting for Madden had been about a lot more than “saving herself” or “staying pure.” No, she didn’t buy into the
belief that a woman had more value if she was untouched. In Eve’s case, however, the years of waiting were partly out of fear.
The number of times in her life she’d been objectified and spoken to with disrespect had led to a wariness of men. Of their
motives. What would happen if she put her faith in one of them?
Madden, though.
In his presence, she was free of fear. Of doubt.
Eve felt his protection and respect and love. And she didn’t want to settle for less.
So she’d waited.
“Okay, woman, you’re zoning out on me again,” Veda said, waving a hand in front of Eve’s eyes. “Please stop. It’s actually
terrifying the way you’re suddenly staring at something in the corner.” Veda looked over her shoulder and whimpered. “Is it
a ghost?”
“Not a ghost.” Eve waved a hand. “Sorry.”
“Don’t be sorry; tell me why you’re staring into the ether.”
“I can’t.”
“Sometimes you take the whole mysterious vibe a little far, you know that?” Veda slumped back in her chair, crossing her legs
unceremoniously. “Fine, I’ll start. Smith is cockblocking me. Vocally speaking.”
Eve sipped her coffee. “I need you to elaborate.”
Veda swallowed, her fingertip tracing a circle pattern onto her knee.
“The All-Nighters are recording a demo and he won’t let me sing on any of the tracks.
Nothing but backing vocals, anyway.” That finger was now stabbing into her knee.
“It’s a battle every time I want to add one of my original songs to the set list. Or do anything but showcase him.
I get what he means about the band sticking with its original vision, but .
. . I don’t know. I’m just starting to feel
more and more stifled. Creatively.”
Dump him.
That’s what Eve wanted to say.
Eve had heard Veda sing—she had pipes for days. If this guy was trying to prevent an audience from hearing that, he was afraid
of being outshone. Period. That advice might come on a little too strong, however, especially from Eve, who’d never even attended
one of their shows, so she took a roundabout tack.
“What do the other band members say?”
“The band was already formed when I joined. They’re all childhood friends, you know? All dudes. They’re not going to vote
against him.”
Eve hummed. “What is the response when you sing at shows?”
“People like it, I think.” Veda shrugged. “Maybe they’re just being nice.”
“They’re not just being nice,” Eve said firmly. “You’re talented, Veda.”
The other girl sniffed. “I’m no Full Bush Rhonda.”
“Who is?” Eve deadpanned. “Look, keep fighting to be on the demo. Keep fighting to sing at shows. If it’s important to you,
it should be important to him. Period.”
“Wow. That’s so real,” Veda said, sounding kind of hollow. “Sort of like Madden marrying you so the kids can have health insurance?”
Eve thought of Madden handing her the framed sketch outside the courthouse. How he’d spent hours cooking with the kids, teaching
them how to play catch. “Yes . . . like that,” she managed.
Veda leaned forward. “I knew you were acting like a stoned ghost hunter over the Irish dude. The second I brought him up,
you got that faraway look in your eye.”
“No, I didn’t,” Eve scoffed, not used to being called out. “I’m thinking about the construction. I’m running numbers and—”
“Stop lying.” Veda slapped a hand off the edge of the desk. “He banged your brains out, didn’t he?”
Eve rolled her eyes, perched her mouth on the spout of her coffee mug. “Veda.”
“Please. I’m losing faith in men. Tell me one of them knows what he’s doing. Tell me one of them isn’t just an entitled little
bitch that expects everything and gives nothing.”
“Technically, I’m your boss and that makes this conversation inappropriate.”
“Then temporarily fire me, bro. Give me the dick digest.”
Eve was really good at keeping secrets, especially her own, but this odd euphoric feeling had been held prisoner inside her
for a week and it weirdly wanted out. And yeah, maybe she did want to verify Madden was one of the good apples and perhaps
inspire Veda to demand better from Smith in the process. “Fine, you’re fired. Temporarily.” Eve put her hands over her eyes.
“He . . . um. He listens. He pays attention.”
“Stop. I’m already about to come.”
“Like, extremely close attention. When we were . . . you know. I swear I couldn’t breathe or blink or move a pinkie finger without him .
. . reacting to balance me. Like his instincts are tied to mine.
I don’t know how he did it, but he made me feel dominated and free at the same time.
I couldn’t feel my legs afterward. I still can barely feel them. ”
“Wow,” Veda whispered.
“Yeah.”
“I thought you were just going to tell me he has a big one.”