Total pages in book: 103
Estimated words: 96850 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 484(@200wpm)___ 387(@250wpm)___ 323(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 96850 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 484(@200wpm)___ 387(@250wpm)___ 323(@300wpm)
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.