Page 37 of Karma's Kiss

“What else did he tell you?!” I holler at my brother. “About our date?!”

David pulls a zipper across his lips before taking another huge bite of brownie, which is just plain annoying; shouldn’t his loyalty lie with me?!

While my first two dates with Sawyer were nothing short of vineyard-picnic-chocolate-mousse glorious, a part of me is wary about continuing down this path with him. Let’s take stock of why, shall we?

I’m only recently single. Actually, I’m still paying off my nonrefundable wedding dress, in fact. Where am I going to wear that now? Grocery shopping? Honestly, I should probably see if Matthew’s secretary wants to buy it off me seeing as she likes my taste when it comes to everything else for her wedding…

Anyway, besides my status as a newly minted single girl, there is the issue of Sawyer and me getting off to a weird start. That’s hardly a meet-cute we could share at our wedding. Yes, everyone! I participated in an espionage heartbreak attack on him and then accidentally let my feelings get in the way of the mission.

It’s not like it really matters. A few pierce-you-through-the-heart kisses does not a relationship make. I shouldnotbe entertaining the idea of texting him about a third date. It’s ludicrous.

Fortunately, the decision has been taken out of my hands for the moment. I’m busy tonight—couldn’t call him even if I wanted to. I have book club.

Once a month, my mother and her closest eleven friends get together at my mom’s house for book club. Seems simple.It’s not.I’ve heard about this club for years. I knew it was invite only, and even though there’s a waitlist a mile long, no new members are allowed to join until a current member dies. Truly, that’s what my mom said. With a straight face!

I thought she was exaggerating about this, but just a little while ago, our doorbell rang. Everyone in the group shouted at me not to answer it.

“Why in the world not?”

I ignored their protests and swung the door open to find Marie Claire—retired PTA president and current preacher’s wife—cradling a casserole dish and smiling wide.

“Madison, good to see you! You look just cute as can be in that dress.” Then she dipped her head around me to see into the living room. “Hi, y’all!”

“We’re a little busy here, Marie Claire,” Paulette Dougherty said, not getting up from my mother’s couch. I thought her tone was a bit aggressive, but it didn’t deter Marie Claire.

“Oh I know! I know! I saw you guys were over here and I was just at home tonight, not doing anythingat all. Thought I could stop by with this seven-layer bean dip and—”

She was already handing me the dip when Lolly Garnett—Sawyer’s grandmother—yanked it out of my hands and shoved it right back at Marie Claire. “You know the rules!”

Then she slammed the door in the poor woman’s face.

I didn’t think Lolly had it in her! She’s got Queenie by twenty years and seems frail as a bird. She’s five feet nothing on a good day,maybea hundred pounds.

My jaw was on the floor. “Don’t you think you all are taking this book club membership thing a little too far?”

All twelve women in my mother’s living room stared back at me as if I’d completely missed the point.

“It’sexclusive. It’s just the way it has to be,” Lolly snapped. “And besides, Marie Claire doesn’t want to join our book club, she just wants to come in here and get the 411 so she can gossip about us on Sunday. That womanlovesto yap. If you’re ever curious about how a rumor gets started in this town, look no further than Marie Claire.”

The only reasonI’mallowed to stay for book club (no, being a blood relative of Queenie is not enough) is because I’m living here right now. It wouldn’t be fair for my mom to kick me out for the night. I know this because I overheard the women debating whether to kick me out for the night.

“She could sit out on the curb for a while. What’s the big deal?”

Now, we’re sitting in the living room enjoying Laura’s margaritas, Pamela’s guacamole, Queenie’s melted brie, Lolly’s pigs in a blanket, and Paulette’s bacon-wrapped shrimp. My plate’s fully loaded and I’m figuring out how I could possibly shuffle things around a bit so I can fit one more shrimp when the women start diving into their discussion.

The book of the month isHis Glory Ride. My mom described it to me earlier as a “fun little motorcycle book.” I took that to mean it was of a similar ilk toZen and the Art of Motorcycle Maintenance.

I was wrong.

“I didn’t like the way the author described Nico and Roxy having sex on the motorcycle,” Laura Pearson says.

“What’s the problem? With reverse cowgirl, she’d be able to steer AND use the throttle whilein flagrante.”

“I just think at highway speeds, it would be safer, and thus sexier, if he instead took her from behind while keeping control of the Harley,” Stacey Wolfe declares.

“Well when I was dating that biker back in ’96, we used to…” My aunt Tricia goes on to enumerate all the helpful tips aboutoptimal two-wheeled sex positions. I stare mutely at the shrimp platter as my ears start to melt off my head. No wonder they don’t want Marie Claire in their book club! She’d faint if she heard this discussion!

My phone rings on the counter in the kitchen. Thank god.

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