The Young Wives Club

by Julie Pennell

  “Ooh . . .” Cash smiled. From the look on his face, it was clear he had no idea what she had said to him. “Talk dirty to me, baby.”

  She laughed, then took a sip of the beer.

  “So, remind me why this rich husband of yours is making you work again?” He propped himself up on the kitchen countertop in the one spot that wasn’t covered in empty boxes, beer cans, or dirty dishes.

  She walked over and sat down on the hideous orange couch—he had taken it from his parents’ den when he moved out after high school graduation. Madison had helped him hoist it from the house and get it to their backyard, where his new home was parked.

  “I’m just helping my mom make some extra money.” She leaned back. “George is already paying my dad’s medical bills and their mortgage. I can’t really ask him to give them an allowance every month. . . .”

  “I dunno.” Cash swung his feet from the counter. “It sounds like you got him wrapped around your finger.”

  She gave him a look. “So, what was so important that you needed me to come here immediately?”

  Cash had texted her an hour before while she was cleaning the home of Ms. Benoit, an eighty-nine-year-old woman with four cats. Madison knew the only reason the old lady paid for the service was so that someone would check on her at least once a week to make sure she didn’t die and get eaten by her felines. And Madison couldn’t blame her—she had seen those kinds of stories on the five o’clock news, too.

  Cash jumped off the counter and walked toward her. “Guess what!”

  She had never seen him so excited—save for the time when he and his brother successfully stole the NO SEMIS ALLOWED sign from Caldwell Lane. “What?” she asked.

  “We’re going on tour with Pistols and Pops!” He threw his arms out so excitedly, she half expected him to break into jazz hands. “It’s a full U.S. tour—all the big cities like New York, Los Angeles, Austin. . . .”

  “No way! That’s awesome!” She stood up and gave him a hug. She was so proud of Cash; all of his dreams were finally coming true. “When does it start?”

  “We’re heading out next week, starting in Mobile, Alabama.” His smile revealed his slightly crooked teeth, the ones she for some reason found so sexy.

  But as thrilled as she was for him, a lump was forming in her throat. “That’s so great,” she said, trying to sound like she meant it. The idea of Cash going on a cross-country road trip without her made her heart ache.

  “Ditch your sugar daddy and come with me,” he said, kissing her.

  Madison pulled away from him, wondering if she heard him right. “What?”

  “You heard me, baby,” he reassured her, flashing a devious grin. “Blow him off. Come with me. You know you wanna.”

  She stared at him, processing his words. For years, this was all she ever wanted. Exploring the country together. Standing in the crowd, cheering him on. Flashing her backstage pass and walking past all the jealous girls. Now it was finally happening, and she couldn’t go. A wave of dizziness washed over her, as she sat back down on the couch heavily.

  “Why aren’t you saying anything?” he asked, sitting down next to her.

  “I just wish this would have happened a few months ago,” she said, pushing her hair behind her ears. “I’m married now, Cash. . . . I can’t just pick up and leave.”

  “Oh come on, we both know it’s not a real marriage.” He laughed. “Dude would probably pay for you to come.”

  She shook her head slowly. “Cash, it’s more complicated than that,” she said, thinking of her parents. How could she let George pay for their mortgage and medical bills while she was riding around the country with another guy?

  Cash narrowed his eyes. “Are you in love with him?”

  “No.” She nudged his foot. “But you and I are complicated, too. I mean, we’ve been hooking up for years and you can never even tell me what I mean to you.”

  He pushed her bangs out of her eyes. “I love you, babe. I don’t say it, but you know that.”

  She put her hands on his muscular chest. “I love you, too,” she whispered. So long she had fantasized about him saying those three words—so long—and this is when it actually happened? When she was a married woman? “But that’s not what I’m asking.”

  “Look, I don’t understand why you’re so obsessed with the idea of settling down.” He leaned back. “How can I know if you’re the one I want to be with for the rest of my life? It took me like a year to pick out my guitar, and I still stay awake at night thinking I should have gone with the Fender.” He rubbed her thigh. “I love you. I’m happy when I’m with you. Isn’t that enough?”

  She lowered her eyes. It was always a game with Cash. But she was guilty of it, too—after all, she always had it in the back of her mind that George was a way to get under Cash’s skin. And she knew he would crack one day. She just wished it would have been before she got married.

  “I want to go . . .” She paused. “But I can’t. Not right now.”

  Cash shook his head in disappointment. “You can’t or you won’t? There’s a big difference there.”

  “You know in any other circumstances I would do it,” she said, massaging the back of her neck. “But I can’t afford to ruin this right now.”

  Cash stood up and faced her. “You know, I thought this whole George thing was just one of your weird little evil plans, and I was fine with it for a little while. Hell, I even supported it,” he said sternly. “But I think it’s changed you, Mads. You’re not the same girl I knew before. You’re weak now.”

  How dare he? If Cash saw doing something like this for her family as weak, then he was a bigger asshole than she’d realized. She stood up, grabbed her backpack, and headed to the door. “Well, I’d rather be weak than an ass like you,” she hissed, her eyes flashing. “Good luck on your tour, Cash.”

  At every stoplight Madison checked her phone, hoping she’d see a missed call or text from him saying he was sorry and that he didn’t mean what he said. But her phone remained silent the whole drive home.

  • • •

  “HOW YOU FEELIN’, Daddy?” Madison asked softly as she walked into his bedroom. He was sitting in his bed under the covers.

  “Like poison,” he said, scooting over so she could sit in bed with him.

  “Me, too.” She sighed. “I’m sure for different reasons, though.”

  “What’s wrong, darlin’?” He let out a hacking cough.

  She leaned her head back on the pillow. “Nothing. Just a long day.” She turned to the TV, noticing two familiar little girls on the screen. “Oh my god, it’s me and Claire!”

  “Ha-ha, yeah. Yer mom found these old videos when she was cleanin’ out the scary closet.” He was referring to the coat closet in the front hallway. It had gotten that nickname after it had become a storage place for all the things they couldn’t find a place for in the house. Every once in a while, Madison would throw something in there: her flowered Doc Martins, a stuffed monkey she was too old for but couldn’t bear to throw out, a faded jean jacket. Over the years, she’d seen a beef jerky machine, a broken dart board, a rusty old bait-casting reel, a turkey fryer. . . .

  She focused on the home video. “Oh, is this the one where we’re at Uncle Mason’s wedding?” He was Connie and Jillian’s little brother who had moved to Grand Isle to be a fisherman.

  “Yeah,” he said with a sentimental grin.

  She cracked a smile and focused in on the TV. “The bride is wearing a lovely white gown wrapped in a big pink bow,” little Claire announced on camera, mimicking the red carpet reporters she watched on TV. “She looks like a present. . . .” She pushed her short brown hair behind her ears. “Absolutely gorgeous.”

  “Yeah,” little Madison chimed in, scratching the big white bow in her hair that her mom had made her wear. “She’s pretty.”

  “I can’t wait to get married!” Little Claire beamed, twirling around in her frilly pastel pink smock.

  “Who are ya gonna
marry?” Madison asked with a wide grin.

  “Someone who makes me feel like a princess,” she answered matter-of-factly. “What about you?”

  Young Madison turned her head straight into the camera and looked up to the right, biting her lip in excitement. “Cash Romero,” she said with a giggle.

  Madison put her hand over her mouth.

  “Is that the boy who always steals your glue?” Claire continued on the video.

  “Shut up,” little Madison said, laughing, her knotty brown hair blowing in the wind.

  “Um, let’s turn this off,” she said to her dad.

  He hit the remote, and the screen froze. He turned to her with a smile before taking a sip from his blue tumbler. “Aren’t you happy that didn’t actually happen?”

  She wanted to agree with him—she really did. But for some reason, all she wanted to do was hug that little girl in the stupid pale blue dress and cry.

  38

  claire

  “AND TURN . . . AND shake . . . hips to the side . . . one, two, three, four . . . and crawl . . . crawl . . . bend . . . snap . . . and pose!” Kimmy pushed her messy hair out of her eyes and studied Claire’s stance. “Finger to the mouth! You can’t forget that! That’s the sexiest part.”

  “Oh, sorry,” Claire said, biting her pointer finger in the seductive way Kimmy had taught her just a couple of minutes before. “I feel so stupid,” she finally admitted.

  “But you’re doing so great!” Kimmy shouted above the loud music. “Seriously . . . when you were shaking those hips, I got a little turned on.” She gave Claire’s butt a playful smack, similar to the one they had been practicing on themselves in the last routine.

  Claire’s eyes widened, and she blushed.

  “Here, let’s take five,” Kimmy said, turning off the music. She sat on the floor and began stretching out her legs. “So, I looked at a potential studio space today. It’s an old car garage, but I think I could convert it easily.”

  “That’s fun,” Claire said, joining her on the floor. “So, it’s really happening?” She was excited for Kimmy to start her own business; it made her wish she had something she was so passionate about.

  Kimmy nodded eagerly. “I think so.”

  “Have you thought about teaching other kinds of workout classes beside strip?” She stretched forward, grabbing her feet with her hands. “I just feel like you’d get a bigger client base that way.” Claire left out the part about also being too embarrassed to take the class in a public setting.

  “Aw, but I love the whole concept,” Kimmy said. “Don’t you just feel empowered after you do it?”

  “Um . . .” Claire looked up to the side and pondered the question. “I like doing this, yes, but I don’t know if ‘empowered’ is the word I would use.” She unscrewed the cap of her water bottle.

  Kimmy tightened her ponytail. “You don’t have to answer this if you don’t want to, but have things with your husband gotten any better?”

  Claire thought back to her and Gavin’s relationship over the past month. She had been reading a lot of Christian self-help books, mainly about forgiveness and building a stronger marriage. She had pushed the whole strip club memory to the back of her mind and tried to instead focus on keeping her husband happy and interested in her. He had apparently stopped going to The Saddle—at least that’s what Kimmy had told her—and they’d even had sex a few times, but she couldn’t help but feel like their relationship was still stagnant. “I mean, if you’re asking me if these classes made Gavin look at me differently, then no,” she finally said.

  “Well, that’s not the point of them,” Kimmy said, standing up. “Do you think I stand up onstage every night dancing for those gross guys at the club? Hell no. I’m dancing for myself.”

  Claire took a gulp of her water, feeling perplexed.

  “I know you think that you’re doing it for your husband to turn him on, and maybe that’s a perk, but that’s not the goal with this stuff.” Kimmy grabbed Claire’s hands and pulled her up off the ground, placing her hands on her shoulders. “It’s about you. You need to feel sexy and confident for anyone else to think that. And trust me . . . when you do feel that way, you won’t even care what anyone else thinks because you’ll be so high.” Kimmy did a twirl, striking a pose at the end with a hip pop.

  Claire clapped and smiled. “Okay, I’ll try.”

  “Take it from the top!”

  • • •

  “NOW, BEND . . . SHAKE the hips . . . crawl . . . crawl . . . five, six, seven, eight . . . and pose!”

  After Kimmy’s pep talk and half an hour of practicing, Claire was feeling sexier with each move that she did, her hip cocking in the proper position and her mouth as pouty as it could ever be.

  “Nailed it!” Kimmy said, giving her a high five. “So, how do you feel?”

  Claire wiped away the sweat on her forehead with a towel. “I feel good,” she said.

  “Just good?” Kimmy looked disappointed.

  “Great!” Claire clarified. “And maybe a little sore because I bent too far down on that last beat—but yeah.” She smiled.

  Kimmy laughed. “All right, so then I’ll see you next week for our last session, right?” She walked over to the kitchen sink to refill her silver water bottle.

  “Yep! Looking forward to it.” Claire grabbed her bag and slung it over her shoulder.

  On the drive back home, Claire decided to make a last-minute detour, stopping off at Geauxchamp’s Department Store downtown. Kimmy’s words rang in her head—if she could feel sexy again, maybe Gavin and her marriage would benefit from it, too.

  In the lingerie department, she made her way over to a display of lacy black things. Some slow jazz played on the department store’s sound system, setting the mood. She picked up what looked to be panties, but her eyebrows shot up as she realized they were missing the crotch part. She quickly dropped it and moved to another display.

  A pile of red satin items was spread out on a white shelf. She rubbed her hand across the material—it was so smooth and soft. No wonder why guys loved this stuff.

  Something royal blue caught her eye, and Claire turned to find a mannequin wearing a beautiful, soft satin set similar to the red one she’d just been admiring. Gavin always said he liked her in that color. It was perfect—sexy without being overly revealing—and she quickly spotted the set hanging on a rack nearby. Claire shuffled through the sizes until she found hers.

  As she headed toward the checkout counter, a voice called out, “Well, is that you, Mrs. Claire?”

  Claire froze, glancing down at the satin lingerie in her hands. Her gaze slid over her shoulder, where she found a petite little old lady with silver hair looking up at her expectantly.

  “Oh, hi, Mrs. Rosa,” Claire said. She could feel herself turning bright red. “How are you doing?”

  The woman, one of the oldest members of their church, stared at the lingerie in Claire’s hands, raising an eyebrow. In Mrs. Rosa’s hands was a green pair of cotton granny panties and some packages of the type of stockings she wore to church every Sunday, even when it was ninety degrees. “Now, I’m doing lovely, dear,” she said, clearly trying to not seem like she was staring at the blue pieces.

  Claire thought about shoving the lingerie behind her back, hiding it from Mrs. Rosa’s judging eyes, but she decided not to, in fear of seeming too obvious. And also, if there was anything that Kimmy had taught her in those lessons it was that she needed to be confident in everything that she did. Claire held the nighty and thong in her hand as they chatted about the upcoming church potluck and Mrs. Rosa’s successful attempt at spicing up her deviled egg recipe with a dash of Worcestershire sauce and Tabasco.

  “It gives it quite a little kick.” She put her tiny frail hand on Claire’s arm and lowered her voice. “After so many years of the same recipe, they were gettin’ kinda boring.” She flashed a toothy grin.

  Claire laughed out loud. “I understand, Mrs. Rosa.”

  “Wel
l, I’ll see you soon, darlin’,” the old woman said. “Have a good night.”

  She could have sworn Mrs. Rosa winked at her. “Bye, now!” Claire giggled to herself as she headed to the checkout register.

  • • •

  “SADIE’S ASLEEP,” CLAIRE said softly to Gavin as he put away the last of the clean dishes from their dinner earlier that night. She had made seared scallops and lemon orzo from her Living Skinny Cookbook, and her husband had all but licked the plate clean. She stopped him from putting their wineglasses in the dishwasher. “Hey, let’s just be bad and finish the bottle of wine.”

  Gavin looked up with wide eyes. “Well, I’m not gonna argue with that.” He walked over to her, still in that day’s work clothes—a simple white button-down shirt with his sleeves rolled up and his preppy salmon-colored chinos—and poured them each another glass.

  Then he went into the living room and picked up his iPad before settling into the armchair. Claire took a large sip of the wine, and then snatched the device from his hands.

  “We’re gonna go technology free tonight,” she purred, sitting on his lap.

  “Are you drunk?” he whispered, smiling mischievously. He wrapped his arms around her waist.

  “Nope,” she whispered. She took another sip of her wine and set the glass down on the side table, then scooted off his lap. She stood up and pulled her brown hair out of its ponytail, shaking it out like Kimmy had showed her.

  Gavin leaned back on the couch with an appreciative grin. She shimmied down and then back up again, and swayed her hips from side to side. As Gavin’s eyebrows shot up, Claire slowly unbuttoned the top button of her shirt.

  He let out a low whistle, and she smiled, feeling more confident.

  “I’m buying this wine every time from now on,” he said, his eyes not leaving her once.

  She leaned over and nibbled on his earlobe. “This is just the appetizer.”

  He immediately put his wineglass down on the table next to hers and stood up, grabbing her hand and leading her to the bedroom. Claire’s whole body tingled with excited anticipation.