I shut my laptop and checked my phone.
Maisy
Girl, we need outfits. Like, yesterday. Party’s in less than a week!
Shit. It was Sunday. Midsummer was next Saturday. I’d been blowing off Maisy for over a week now. I’d been too exhausted from writing, keeping my business afloat, and attempting to keep thoughts of Wes, and sex, and sex with Wes, out of my demented fucking mind.
Wes had thanked me for telling him I was home safe last Friday. Neither of us had reached out since.
I shamefully admitted the truth to Maisy.
I was just going to order something off Amazon. That’s kind of where I’m at financially.
Maisy
Oh no, no, no. You can’t do that. Meet me at the church at 5. We have a private slot, don’t sweat it.
I read the text a couple times, trying to make sense of it—as if anything had ever made sense about The Circle.
“Whatever,” I muttered to myself as I started my getting ready process. My methods were fine-tuned to fool the world into believing I didn’t spend my days in pajamas at my desk.
I hastily applied lip gloss and mascara at half past four. I couldn’t afford a cab right now, especially not when I’d need one to get to the party mansion Saturday. So, I paired my red dress with corset detailing with sneakers. A New York classic.
After thirty minutes of scorching heat in the underground, the cool, air-conditioned lobby of The Circle felt like deliverance.
There was one young, attractive man at the desk today and an older, impassive man on the opposite end of the room who was clearly security personnel.
“Nova?” he asked cheerfully.
I nodded.
“Follow me.”
As I trailed him, I noticed the church was calm, empty. Sunlight filtered through the stained glass, and the interior was spotless, hiding all traces of kinky goings on.
“Are you a volunteer?” I asked him. I needed to gather as much information as I could to present to Lorelei when it wastime to deprogram her, and everyone knew it was Cult 101 to operate on free labor.
“Yes, but I’m paid,” he said, as if reading my mind.
“A living wage?” I probed.
He glanced back at me with an amused grin. “Yep!” He led me to the room where the first soirée had been held. “You’re new right?” After I nodded, he continued. “This community is extremely generous.”
Right.Generous. Generosity as a form of control tended to cast a dark shadow.
He paused when we reached the door. “I know it’s hard to unlearn what the outside world has taught us—that the natural order is dog eat dog, and we should isolate and fend for ourselves in order to survive. But changing the world starts here, with us, by helping each other, caring for our neighbors, digging deeper than the surface for authentic connection. We weren’t born to be burnt out, exhausted, impoverished. We were born to thrive together. We were born for…”
“Abundance?” I offered, stealing buzz words from my rapidly changing algorithm.
His smile broadened. He looked like he could be cast to play Prince Charming at a Disney park, with his blond hair, blue eyes, and dimples. “Exactly. The world is meant to be lush, sensual, fertile. Not scarce. The Circle doesnotdo scarcity.” On a laugh, he opened the door.
My thoughts snagged on the word fertile, but I quickly grew distracted by the luxurious drawing room I’d been led into. Racks of clothing and tall mirrors were arranged around the space, along with an array of tea house finger food on tiered plates.
Well,clothingwasn’t exactly the right word. It was mostly lingerie and intricate costumes at first glance. There were tablesof fairy wings, flower crowns, hair pieces, tiaras, and Medieval cone princess hats.
I already had choice paralysis when Maisy popped out from behind a rack to greet me.
“What the hell is all this?” I asked.
