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LOTTIE
A hatchelorette party.
It’s sort of like a bachelorette party, only for the mama-to-be before she hatches her chicklet. The concept is not entirely foreign to me, considering my bestie threw me one just a month before Lyla Nell was born.
Of course, that meant Cormack couldn’t go without one, or so Charlie and Naomi, Cormack’s besties, thought so. And seeing that my mother has been hired on as Cormack’s stunt coordinator, she’s come along for the debauchery as well.
A quick burst of memories from my own debauchery-laden circus comes to mind. I believe banana hammocks were involved, but I can’t be too sure since I’ve mostly blocked the trauma out of my mind.
But for reasons unknown to me, Cormack’s shindig is taking place at Red Satin Gentlemen’s Club, the seedy establishment Meg works at, as does Jed Silver.
I’ll admit, as much as I’m not looking forward to seeing a bunch of women stripping down to what their mamas gave them, I am looking forward to sneaking in a conversation with Jed.
Even though I saw him the other night in front of Marlena’s house, I didn’t get to speak with him the way I wanted. I’ll have to carve out a moment or two to corner him without arousing the suspicion of Noah or Everett.
Yes, they’re invited, too.
Half the town is showing up for this carnal review.
“Come on, girls.” Cormack waddles her way to the door of the club as Alex, her true baby daddy, opens the portal to the entry. “The nachos aren’t going to come to us; we’ve got to go to the nachos.”
I nod up at Everett. “And that, in a nutshell, explains what we’re doing here.”
“Cormack is possessed by nachos?” He lifts a brow as if amused.
“What the baby wants, the baby gets,” I say. “And you’d be surprised how soon in utero they start demanding things. Lyla Nell once had me eat a platter of chocolate truffles before ten a.m., and that was well before I knew I was knocked up.”
Carlotta snorts and she jumps by my side. “What was your excuse this morning at the bakery?”
Mom sucks in a dramatic breath, so strong and long, I wouldn’t be surprised if she inhaled a pasty or two. The waitresses at this place don’t wear much else.
“Lottie Lemon, are you expecting a baby?”
“No,” I say a touch too loud in an effort to stomp out any rumors that might ensue after this infantile conversation. “Everett and I are not having a baby.”
Keelie trots up, and it’s her turn to gasp. “You mean Noah did the daddy deed again?”
“No.” I wave her off. “Noah didn’t knock me up either. I’m not in the family way.”
“I’m not into the family way either, Lot,” Carlotta says. “It’s not too late to take a cue from me and drop Little Yippy off at the local fire department. They’ve got free donuts in the kitchen, and we can shove a few in our purse before we take off in the night—just like old times.”
She smiles at the stars as if reliving a wonderful memory, and I have no doubt she is. Only I wasn’t sharing donuts with her the last time she did it. I was the reason she was there to begin with.
And I can attest to the fact that Carlotta has never been so hot on being in the family way—even if she is mixing up her euphemisms.
Poor Charlie can attest to it as well.
My sister is already inside getting things set up with Naomi and Lily.
Of course, Suze had to schmooze her way over. This is all she talked about all day. And, boy, is she excited for the main event taking place this Sunday.
What a packed week.
Murder on Tuesday, hatchelorette party on Thursday—neither Cormack nor her cohorts wanted to infringe on what Friday brings—Evie’s graduation. And on Saturday, we catch our collective breaths before Cormack’s big grand finale—aka the baby shower of the century. Or as my mother has billed it on all of the fliers, banners, and social network billboards—the baubles for baby shower.
Alex nods as the entire lot of us streams through the door, and Everett, Noah, and I lag behind the pack, as do Mom and Wiley.
“Thanks, brother.” Noah scowls at his look-alike.
