The Perfect Ruin - Page 16

I stood near a table to the far left, hoping to avoid conversation. Unfortunately, avoiding conversation was not in the plans.

A plump woman walked up to me with a moonlike face. Her smile was wide and her eyes were thin, like almonds. “You must be Ivy!” The woman was loud. I hated that her voice was drawing attention my way. The less attention I received, the better this plan of mine would work out.

“I am,” I said, patting her back as she reeled me in for a hug. I was seriously never going to get used to the hugs.

“I’m so glad you could make it! I’m Vonyetta, Lola’s organizer and assistant. You are going to love it as a volunteer, especially for Passion Camp! We have so many mothers coming to enjoy camp this year, it’s nice to have your helping hands.”

“Thank you so much.”

“I’m so glad God sent you our way. Lola has been talking about all the new volunteers she’s interviewed! She told me you have a beautiful story. If you ever wish to share it with any of us, just know we are here to listen with open arms, sweetie.”

“Thank you!” Like hell I was sharing anything with these bitches. It was like pulling teeth for you, wasn’t it? Why would I share a thing with them?

Vonyetta gave me a friendly pat on the shoulder, and as she did, someone walked in, catching her attention.

“Oh, Meera! Look at you! Glowing with that bump, girl!” Vonyetta rushed toward the pregnant woman who’d walked through the door in a red sundress, and I turned away, glad she was gone.

I sat in a chair, gritting my teeth as the women in the room cackled like old hens and exclaimed over how blessed they all were.

Yes, yes, they were blessed. I got it already, but was it necessary to keep saying it? I’m not very religious, as you know, Marriott. After losing everything that mattered, how could I be? All hope was lost when I was fourteen.

Fortunately, Lola sauntered into the room and stole the show. Everyone greeted her with smiley faces and gave her so many compliments on her clothes.

I watched her stroll by, dressed in linen white pants and a baby-blue blouse. Her hair was half up, half down, and her face was free of all makeup except mascara. She was flawless, and I envied the hell out of her.

Still, when she looked my way, I smiled, and she gave me an urgent wave, like she was so happy to see I’d made it.

She was starting to like me, Marriott. I could feel it. The start of something great . . .

Well, for me anyway.

* * *

The camp training was a snoozefest. I can’t even count how many times I was about to doze off as Vonyetta went on about how the pregnant moms were nervous, but so thankful for the opportunity to kick their feet up and enjoy camp this summer.

I suppose if I were pregnant and got a chance to get into Passion Camp, I’d be grateful too. Passion Camp was a week-long event where pregnant women would be pampered with pedicures, manicures, facials, boat rides, three hot meals a day, and prenatal massages.

Rumor had it that it was hard to get accepted into Passion Camp. You had to truly need the escape and the help of a charity, and they also ran background checks on the women. Any hard convictions and they wouldn’t take you. Basically, you needed to be as poor as dirt and pure as snow to get treated like a princess for a week at Passion Camp.

When the volunteer seminar was over, we had a lunch catered by Lola. I slinked my way past a few volunteers to get to the front of the line and get my food first, making sure I could secure a seat close to Lola.

Because Vonyetta was her assistant, she had a seat beside her. Some other woman named Keke, who I was sure was going to cause me problems just from her nasty looks alone, took the chair to Lola’s right.

I didn’t care for this Keke woman. She was late to the seminar and had this weird, territorial claim on Lola. She was obnoxious, and I had no clue how the classy Lola Maxwell dealt with someone like her.

I sat next to Vonyetta, unfortunately. I had a rotisserie chicken club sandwich on my plate, with apple slices and a glass of champagne offered from the food line.

“I love bringing on new volunteers.” Lola sighed as she sat down with her glass of champagne. I noticed she wasn’t eating, though she insisted everyone take as much as they wanted. The serving area was filled with food—sandwiches, fruit, desserts, sangria, and champagne.

“It’s a blessing for sure,” Vonyetta said, and I swore I would stab her with my fork if she said the word “blessing” one more time.

Tags: Shanora Williams Thriller
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