The Bouncing Buns Gentleman's Club

Chapter 7

After her call to CPS, Beverly couldn't wait to get out of the office. What a week, she thought with a sigh, I'm as exhausted as if it had been all seven days instead of just the five. What I would give to just take Sue's advice and go straight to Geo's instead of an evening socializing with the yacht clubbers. Beverly wasn't one to just not show up, she had told them she would be there and she would.

As usual, her drive to the boat was a non-event: around the parking lot, down the road, across the marina parking lot and she was there. The weekenders had not all arrived, so there were still a few of the better parking spaces left close to the pier. She was also lucky enough to barely beat the party boat crowd that would show up a little later and take up any remaining parking nearby. They would be heading for one of the two commercial boats operated from the end of the pier for a company function or wedding.

Compared to all the new and expensive cars they drove, Beverly's white Z4 appeared a bit worse for wear. It ran well, though, and would do for now. She pulled into the parking space, turned off the engine, and sat there for a moment with her eyes shut, the first time in hours. I wonder how many drunks will fall off the pier on the way back to their cars later tonight? Beverly thought as she got out of the car. It had happened several times just in the few months she had lived there.

Today's walk down the "gauntlet" was something she dreaded. Beverly had given the pier this nickname because it seemed like one when the weekenders were there. They were either sitting on their dock boxes visiting among themselves, or mingling as a group at the yacht club slip. Either way, she had to walk by them. They couldn't be avoided. After a hard day at the clinic, she was usually talked out and not in the mood for small talk. Today's ordeal made it even worse.

Beverly hoped they would all be at the club by now. It would be easier to go through the required social amenities with them all at once instead of a few at a time all the way down the pier. It wasn't that Beverly was antisocial, she wasn't; it was just particularly uncomfortable today given that she was emotionally exhausted. The fact that she had decided she wouldn't fit in and would not be joining the club complicated things even more and added to the stress she already felt.

She'd seen she was not in their league financially, and didn't want to start feeling somehow sub-par around so many much better off. Perhaps she would eventually do a little self-analysis in that regard, as she knew she shouldn't feel that way. Another source of discomfort, and perhaps the main one, was being so socially invested in just one group of friends.

Beverly had been introduced to them several times, and still didn't know all their names. Of course they knew hers, but they had one name to remember. She had several and would be facing them this evening, ready or not. Her decision to tell them she would not be joining would depend on whether Dan showed up. If he did, the announcement would wait until another time and save her the anxiety. She had more than one reason to hope he would be there.

Weekenders aside, Beverly did look forward to looking at the boats during her walk down the pier. One that always caught her eye had been owned by Red Adair. He'd made his fortune putting out oil well fires and was once the subject of a movie starring John Wayne.

Red must have been an avid deep water fisherman, at least he had the boat for it, she thought.

Beverly guessed it about fifty or sixty feet long. It had a large cockpit area, where the "fighting chair" sat majestically in all its ultra varnished wooden and chrome glory. There was also a tall and highly-polished "tuna tower." It was mounted over the cabin, a good thirty feet above the highest part of the boat, where fish could be spotted while under way.