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“Are you here to solicit funds from the club?” he questioned and for the second time in only a few days she hadn’t considered who she was talking to. First the wealthy, now the man who helps control the purse strings of the club.
“No, Chief said he found a truck, but even with the grants he found he needs a little bit more and I came up with an idea. We put on a show to help raise funds for a new fire truck. I have most of the girls on board I just need some of the members to agree.”
“Agree to what?” Hack asked. “If the girls want to donate their earnings what does the club have to do with that?”
“Well, it would be a male revue,” Porsche said nervously, her skin was tingling and belly becoming a tight fist of anxiety as Mike choked a bit on his coffee and had to turn around to tamp down the mix of laughter and coughing.
“Sorry,” he said holding his hand out toward them. “The visual is too good.”
“Again? Why are you talking to me about this?” Hack questioned.
“I am doing my best to get all the single men and maybe if a few of the claimed ones with influence—”
“Whew, oh my god, sorry, I’m trying,” Mike said as another peel of laughter had him snapping his lips together and trying his best to not blurt out.
“To participate in the fund raiser,” she continued, trying to not have actual daggers shoot from her eyes. “Honestly, I think we can raise enough money for that new truck, Roadkill figures three shows since the Roadside has capacity limits.”
“Claimed? As in my tan ass in a thong shaking it toPour Some Sugar on Me?”
“I’m out,” Mike said holding two hands up and wiping at tears, his face flushed. “Thank you, Porsche you have no idea how much I needed this today. Whew, I’m gonna go check on Syd.”
He turned the corner and headed down the hallway.
“Well, that right there tells you how good it would go,” Hack said. “Besides, I’m sure Preacher Girl here wouldn’t let me strip at a show.”
Hack turned to Preacher Girl who was hiding a smile.
“Three years and it’s like you don’t even know me baby,” she cooed, her eyes darkening as she scanned and probably stripped her man down as he sat beside her at the table. “I think it’s a great idea. Porsche you can count my husband in.”
“Um, I’m sorry, did you just pimp me out?” he snapped, holding his hand to his chest. “Next you’ll have me on the street corner cat calling the women walking down the street.”
“Oh, stop being a baby,” she said slapping his shoulder. “It’ll be good for you, besides, I think I know why Porsche is asking you.”
“Enlighten me?” he said.
“Fifty bucks says Red said he only shakes his money maker for Roadkill and more guys will sign up if you’re willing to take to the pole.”
“Seriously, what do you think about this Hack?” Porsche said.
“It is a good cause. Let me do some thinking.”
“Hebrews thirteen sixteen,and do not forget to do good and to share with others, for with such sacrifices God is pleased.”
The girl earned her name honestly with her Bible quoting ways as Hack narrowed his eyes at the woman he loved.
“God, God wants me to share my body, it would please him.”
“It’ll please me, besides, we almost lost Doc from a fire,” Preacher Girl said. “What if we had one here? We need a fire department.”
“Jesus, Mary and Joseph,” Hack said blowing a hard gust.
“Don’t blaspheme,” Preacher Girl warned.
“From the woman who two seconds ago quoted Hebrews to explain why I should strip for bills.”
“What’s your point?” Preacher Girl blinked a few times then stood and kissed the end of his nose.
“Hey, Creek,” Mike called from down the hall as he came back in the kitchen. “Little man is fussing.”
