Page 1 of Charlotte
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CHARLOTTE
I’m the first of the book club members to arrive at the coffee shop for the meeting. I take a sip of my caramel latte with two extra shots and close my eyes. It's been a long week, and I definitely need this extra boost of caffeine if I'm going to make it through the day without feeling and looking like a complete zombie.
My phone is sitting on the table and begins to vibrate, making me jump. I look down at the screen and see the name of my old friend from high school, Kara, who I recently reconnected with in the last few weeks since moving to the city. It's a little early in my day for her high energy, and I'm tempted to send it to voicemail until my coffee kicks in, but tonight is her bachelorette party.
“Hey, Kara," I answer.
“Oh, good. I caught you,” she says, sounding slightly winded. I wonder if she’s calling me on her morning run. “I wanted to talk to you and let you know there’s been a slight change in the plans tonight.”
I can’t help but feel a flicker of excitement that she might be about to tell me that they are moving it to another night. I haven’t had a night to relax in almost two weeks.
“Brooke had an idea to try out a new club tonight. It’s called The Velvet Rope.”
Last I'd heard, the plans were to go dancing anyway, so I'm not sure exactly what the big change in the plans are.
“Okay, that’s fine.”
“Really?” she asks, sounding surprised. "You're okay with that?"
“It’s your night. I’m fine with whatever you want to do.”
“That’s great. I wasn’t sure if you’d be up to it.”
She’s not wrong, but I don’t want to tell her that. I’ve only just reconnected with her. My invite tonight was a last-minute thing. I don’t know any of her other friends going tonight. I don’t want to be the Debbie Downer of the group.
The bell above the door of the coffee shop rings out, and I look up to see Quinn and Jess walk in. They give me a quick wave before walking over to the counter to put in their coffee orders.
“I can’t wait,” I say, trying my best to sound convincing. “I’ll meet you at your place at eight.”
“Sounds good. See you then.”
We hang up.
I've never been a part of anyone's wedding festivities before now. And besides wanting to support my old friend, I’m kind of using this experience as a bit of research for whenever my brother, Nate, decides to pop the question to his girlfriend, Michelle. She’s our neighbor and the reason I got invited to join The Nice Girls’ Naughty Book Club.
I swirl the spoon in my coffee mug and take a few more big sips. I need my brain to wake up.
Quinn and Jess join me at the large table I’ve saved for the book club meeting. We make small talk as we wait for the other members to arrive. They each file in one by one—Courtney, then Fiona and Michelle, and lastly, Lily.
"Good morning, ladies," Lily says as she sits down in the last empty seat. She's wearing a t-shirt with some female superhero comic book character on the front that looks just like her.
We all settle in, catching up on the events of the past week. I still new to the group, so I listen more than I talk.
“I’m not going to be here next week,” Jess announces. “Axel has an away game for the playoffs, and I want to surprise him."
“Same here,” Courtney says.
“You’re going with her?” Fiona asks.
“No.” Courtney shakes her head. “I have to do inventory at the book store, and it's going to take a few days and most of my brainpower to get it done. So I don't think I'll be able to focus on getting any reading done.”
"Well, I guess we will take a break off for next week," Quinn says, looking around at the table for any objections but not finding any. "We can pick up on another meeting the following week.”
We all agree and start discussing the book assigned for this week’s meeting,Wanted Love. It was a romantic thriller about a female FBI agent sent to track down a wanted man in the wilderness of Alaska, but in the process of bringing him in, their plane goes down. So they have to depend on each other to survive and fall in love in the process.
“I liked it, but it was a little too intense for my taste,” Michelle says.
