The Scarlet Letter Scandal (7 page)

“And I really need to be able to hire one of those landscaper wives from next door again to come over here and clean,” said Kellie. “I can’t take care of the house and the club all by myself. It’s a pain in the ass that they don’t speak English, or I don’t speak Spanish, but I can sure as shit point.”

“I don’t think the English-as-a-second-language classes are being offered at the pool clubhouse here in Stony Mill yet,” said Brandon, laughing. He walked over and took the paper towels from her hand and placed them on a small glass coffee table beside the shiny red leather couch.

She relaxed in his embrace. It was her favorite place to escape.

“Pot is practically legal in Maryland anyway,” said Kellie. “But if we could get our hands on a good supply of pharmaceuticals, I could definitely pay a cleaning lady. And I’ve wanted to start up that pole dancing class on Tuesday nights. That will bring in a little.”

“I’ll look into a few sources,” said Brandon.

“Be careful,” said Kellie.

“I will,” said Brandon, and he leaned down to kiss her.

“Want to kill some time in the Night Sky room?”

He walked over to the bar, wearing only his boxer briefs. The view of his perfect ass tempted her despite her tiredness from the earlier proceedings.

The mid-sized room was Kellie’s favorite. A small machine similar to a disco ball was mounted on the ceiling and emitted pinpoints of light onto the black walls. A moon mural had been painted on the ceiling by a club member in exchange for a few months’ fees. A king-size bed with a memory foam mattress in the middle of the room also made it the club’s most traditional setting for sex. The room was normally used for couples, though small groups of three or four often ended up in here on busy nights. Kellie wasn’t sure she was ready for her third round of sex today, but she saw Brandon walking over, already hard for her and holding out a bottle of Corona, complete with lime. And off the dress went again, over her head.

F
inished with her newest scathing blog post on The Keytown Mouse, a little client work, and a few more strategic emails, Rachel walked over to Zoomdweebies to pick up sandwiches for her lunch date with her good friend Kate. She’d called the sandwiches in, hoping to dash in and out before driving over to the college for her date with the professor.

“Hey, Zarina,” said Rachel as she closed the door to the café. “How is everything?”

“Great, busy,” said Zarina. “Stan has your sandwiches ready. Is one of these for my mom? Totally her sammie.”

Rachel smiled. Zarina knew the women were close friends, but she didn’t know the relationship went beyond that.

“You called it,” said Rachel. “You know your mom loves Stan’s California Hippie with all that avocado and sprouts and whatever other rabbit food is on there.” She ordered a black unsweetened iced tea. She was trying to lose a little weight and had cut out all sugar.

Stan laughed from behind the counter. “‘The Rabbit Food’ would be a great name for that sandwich,” he said. “One of those is coming right up and of course your very non-veggie roast beef and provolone.” He smiled, handing the wrapped sandwiches across the top of the counter.

Rachel turned around and saw the baker Lisa Swain walk in the door.

“Oh, hey, Lisa,” said Rachel.

“Hi, Rachel,” said Lisa, glancing at the lunch menu on the blackboard. She looked over at the cozy couch area, where
Fletch
was playing on the old-school TV. Fond memories of sitting at that spot with her friends for Scarlet Letter Society meetings, she wished they were meeting her there today.

“We missed you at the Housewarming Committee meeting last week,” said Rachel.

“Oh, you know those meetings are always during the time when I’m at the shop early baking the morning cinnamon rolls,” said Lisa. She looked at Zarina.

“Good morning, Lis,” said Zarina. “Saved you a copy of this newspaper that has the ad from your shop in it. Usual coffee?”

Lisa took the folded-up paper, noticing Zarina’s quick wink. Lisa hadn’t run an ad. She tucked the paper into her purse and ordered a turkey wrap with her usual iced mochaccino.

“I promised the other ladies I’d ask you about the muffins for the baskets,” said Rachel.

“I’m happy to donate muffins for the welcome baskets anytime,” said Lisa. “If you or whoever is putting the basket together when someone moves in just lets me know the day before, I can have them ready whatever morning you need.”

“Great,” said Rachel. “I’ll let them know, and maybe we can move the meeting time to a more convenient time for you next month.”

“Oh, don’t move the time just for me,” said Lisa, widening her eyes slightly in Zarina’s direction. “My hours at the bakery are insane.”

“Sounds like tax season for me,” said Rachel. “Okay, well, thanks for offering the muffins! See you soon.” And she walked out of the shop, seemingly in a hurry. As she rushed back to her car, she tossed the two Adderalls she’d had in her pocket into her mouth. She had called her son’s doctor and reported losing his prescription, picking up a “replacement” bottle that been serving her new casual habit.

Zarina walked around the counter to talk to Lisa while Stan made her sandwich, handing her the iced drink.

“I didn’t want to say anything in front of your neighborhood busybody,” said Zarina. “But have you seen this morning’s paper?”

“I wish. I never get a chance to read the whole local paper,” said Lisa, taking the paper out of her purse. “It comes to the door in the morning at the shop and I glance over it in between batches of baking, but I don’t have time to read it cover to cover.”

Zarina took the paper and opened it to a page past the center section. “Honestly, I can’t believe they still let this old woman write a gossip column,” she said. “How many print newspapers still have those? Anyway, check this out.” She pointed to a paragraph in the “Jane’s Corner” column.

Lisa read.

It seems a local web log is reporting the goings-on about town with an impressive and detailed level of knowledge. Known as ‘The Keytown Mouse,’ the latest online edition of this blog reports that a secret group of adulteresses in town meets regularly to discuss their extracurricular activities, not to mention some type of – dare I even say it? –
sex club
in a local community. Reminds me of those hippie swingers in the ’70s. Could they be making a comeback? This reporter would be curious to know who this anonymous, mysterious ‘mouse’ is, though considering how much he (or she!) seems to know about people’s personal lives, I certainly wouldn’t want to be in that doghouse!

Zarina half-smiled at her, not knowing what to say.

“Who even uses the term web log any more?” Zarina offered in the way of conversation.

“Old ladies with print newspaper columns,” said Lisa. “Maggie and Eva and I had talked about the Keytown Mouse blog. And you know whose neighborhood this is, don’t you?”

“No way,” said Zarina.

Lisa gestured the newspaper toward the door where Rachel had exited.

“Rachel’s and mine,” she said.

“Holy wow,” said Zarina. “I remember that you sort of hate living in that place, but I had no idea…”

“And adulteresses,” Lisa continued. “Nice to see that word still showing up in a newspaper.” She shook her head and puffed out a blast of annoyed air.

“Unreal,” said Zarina. “Both.”

“Well, I don’t think my husband reads either the ‘web log’ or the local rag,” said Lisa, “so I guess all the dirty secrets around town are safe for now, not that I even have any.”

“How is everything with you guys?” asked Zarina.

“Same old same old, I guess,” said Lisa. “Sometimes I think marriage is just about lowering your expectations so you’re not disappointed.”

Remembering where she was, she looked over at Stan, who had put her sandwich on the counter, and added, “Present company excepted, of course. You guys are so adorable.”

Zarina smiled. “Still newlyweds, at least for now!”

Lisa thanked them and walked out with her sandwich, hearing Chevy Chase as Fletch in the background singing “
Strangers in the night… exchanging clothing… strangers in my pants…”

G-chat

Lisa: You won’t believe it. Zarina gave me a newspaper article that calls out our “adulteresses” club.

Eva: There are still newspapers?

Maggie: Oh Christ it has to be that ancient twat who writes the gossip column.

Eva: People still read gossip columns in newspapers?

Lisa: People in town still read the local rag.

Maggie: Yeah they read the whole thing at the stoplight.

Eva: Does it mention us by name?

Lisa: No, it’s vague. Mentions the swinger club in my neighborhood too. I’m famous!

Maggie: 5 minutes of fame, slut.

Eva: Hamster cage liner. Fish wrap.

Lisa: I just don’t want it to get around that it’s us.

Maggie: Ah, who gives a fuck. Maybe we’ll get a reality show.

Eva: Extreme Whores. I’m in.

O
n the other side of Keytown, at 101 Oak Street, where no landscaping rocks adorned the yard, Jeannie Appleton set about cleaning up the morning’s breakfast. It hadn’t quite gone according to plan. She had imagined that the other women would be shocked and horrified by both the news bombs in the website posting. A secret group of women cheating on their husbands and meeting to brag about their adultery, not to mention sex rings in their neighborhoods? She shook her head as she Swiffered the crumbs from the dining room floor.
Unbelievable.
She picked up the landline phone and called her sister.

“Hi, Cindy. It’s me,” she began.

“Oh, hey, Jeannie. Everything okay?”

“Just because I call you on the phone doesn’t mean something’s wrong,” Jeannie said.

“I know. My phone just doesn’t ring that often so I always worry it’s something with a kid or family member.”

“You know I can’t stand texting and don’t have time for it,” said Jeannie. “I just wanted to tell you that I printed out that piece of, ugh,
writing
you sent me and showed it to two of the women here in the neighborhood today.”

“Did they laugh?” said Cindy. “My friends here in Maine think it’s a riot.”

“I fail to see why anyone thinks this is funny,” said Jeannie. “The inappropriate sexual goings-on of this community are embarrassing and now they’re public and no one seems concerned in the least.”

“Aw, big sis, you sound like Sister Saint Whosiewhatsee back in Catholic school,” said Cindy. “Times have changed. People sleeping with other people’s spouses isn’t exactly cause for a town meeting, or a stoning in the town square.”

Jeannie bristled at her sister’s nonchalance. “I wasn’t calling a town meeting, I was calling a meeting of one of my monthly committees to see what they thought.”

“And what did they think?” asked Cindy.

“They were very casual about it,” said Jeannie. “Apparently family values don’t mean anything to anyone anymore.”

“Look, sis, you left one of the most conservative religions in the world, Catholicism, to join your husband’s even more conservative uber-Christian right-wingnut cult, no offense, church or whatever, but that doesn’t mean the rest of the world is on board with your cries to stone all the witches.”