Betty in Birmingham

Chastity Veldt

Description

Welcome to Bangingham…


Betty Abernathy doesn't have a husband, she has a roommate. And with age 50 on the horizon, she's looking for someone to bring a smile to her face and fill the emptiness in her life.
Standup comic Jake Nilsen has just what he needs to fill Betty's. . . heart.

Sujets

• Romance
• BD Erotique
• Romance érotique
• contemporary
• Erotica
• Fiction

Informations

• Publié par: 4 Horsemen Publications, Inc.
• Date de parution: 01 juin 2021
• Nombre de lectures: 0
• EAN13: 9781644502358
• Langue: English
• Poids de l'ouvrage: 1 Mo

Extrait

Betty in Bi rmingham
Copyright © 2021 Chastity Veldt. All rights r eserved.


4 Horsemen Publicatio ns, Inc.
1497 Main St. S uite 169
Dunedin, FL 34698
4horsemenpublicat ions.com
info@4horsemenpublicat ions.com
Cover by Battle Goddess Pro ductions
All rights to the work within are reserved to the author and publisher. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, scanning, or otherwise, except as permitted under Section 107 or 108 of the 1976 International Copyright Act, without prior written permission except in brief quotations embodied in critical articles and reviews. Please contact either the Publisher or Author to gain per mission.
This is a work of fiction. All characters, organizations, and events portrayed in this novel are either products of the author’s imagination or are used ficti tiously.
Library of Congress Control Number: 20 21937016
Ebook ISBN: 978-1-644 50-235-8
Print ISBN: 978-1-644 50-236-5
Audio ISBN: 978-1-644 50-237-2


Chapter 1
“I s there anything else I can get you, hon?” Jake Nilsen looked up from his book at the woman standing next to his table holding a pitcher. It was a Wednesday afternoon, and Jake was reading an old Rex Stout paperback novel. Finished with his lunch at a small cafe called French’s, he decided it was time t o move on.
“I’m sorry,” said Jake. “Do you have a to-go cup by chance? I’d love to take some sweet tea with me. And maybe t he check?”
The woman — her name tag reading “Kellie” — returned with a Styrofoam cup. “That’s good tea, isn’t it?” she asked. “We make some of the best sweet tea in the city.”
“Well, this is my first time in Birmingham, and it’s definitely the best tea I’ve had.”
“I could tell you were a first-timer,” sa id Kellie.
“Really ? How so?”
“’Cause you said Birming-am like you’re British. We say Bir ming-Ham.”
“Ah, okay,” said Jake.
“So where are you from?”
“I grew up in Minnesota, but now I’m a stand-up comic and I trav el a lot.”
“Are you in town fo r a show?”
“Yep, I’m headlining for three nights at Chip’s Com edy Club.”
Kellie pulled a black folder from her apron pocket and set it on the table. “I know Chip’s. My cousin, Jerry, is the bartender there. I may have to come see the show. Are you performing tonight?”
“No, just tomorrow night, Friday, and Saturday. I just came into town a day early because I didn’t have anything booked for tonight. So I thought I’d come hang out and check out a couple of bo okstores.”
“Have you been to Reed B ooks yet?”
Jake held up his Rex Stout novel. “You bet! That was the first place I went to and I got a few Rex Stout novels. A friend of mine owns a bookstore in Milwaukee, and she made me promise to stop in there as soon as I got i nto town.”
Jake flashed back to last week’s phone conversation with Molly Moser, a friend and lover from Milwaukee, Wisconsin. 1 The two had discussed her new relationship with Tad Ackroyd, a tax attorney she had started dating at the insistence of her Aunt Judy. As they talked, Jake mentioned where he was heading for his next gig, and Molly half-shouted i n his ear.
“Oh! You have to check out Reed Books! That’s an amazing b ookstore!”
“Jesus, do you know every bookstore in the country?”
“Maybe,” Molly mumbled. “I always like to go on little vacations with my book nerd friends and we check out bookstores. Besides, Tad says I can call it a buying trip and write it off on my taxes.”
Jake snapped his attention back to Kellie. “So anyway, my friend turned me on to Rex Stout and I found a few novels I hadn’t read yet.”
“I’ve heard of him, I think,” said Kellie. “What’s he write?”
“He wrote the Nero Wolfe mysteries in the ‘30s and ‘40s.”
“Ah, okay. That’s how I know him. I prefer Stephen King and Erika Lance myself,” said Kellie. “Horr or stuff.”
Jake grimaced. “I can’t stand horror novels,” he said, shuddering. “They give me nightmares and I jump at every little noise in the room. It’s worse when I’m on the road and staying in some apartment I’ve never been to before. Every noise is some kind of killer clown coming to kill me.”
Kellie laughed. “Yeah, I can see that. They’re not for everyone. Well, I’ve got customers to serve, but I hope I can make it to your show, Jake. Thanks for c oming in.”
“Thank you,” said Jake. He stuck $30 into the check folder and handed it back to Kellie. “Keep th e change.”
“Thank you, honey. Come b ack soon.”
Jake climbed into his pickup and drove the few miles to Chip’s and parked in the parking lot behind the club. He climbed out of the truck and locked it, stopping to double-check the lock on the bed lid too. He had an aluminum weather-tight lid installed so he could carry his luggage and a few favorite items, like a plastic tub filled with books. Locking it with the same key job that locked his truck, he headed into the club.
In his “day job,” Jake was a real estate investor who’d made quite a lot of money buying dilapidated homes and turning them into rental properties for college students. He did standup comedy as a hobby because it gave him a chance to drive around the country and do what he really loved: Making people happy . It also meant he could afford high-tech security for a 7-year-old Toyota Taco ma pickup.
“Hi, I’m looking for the owner,” said Jake.
“She’s in the office back there,” said the guy, pointing across the room at a door marked Private. He went back to drying a glass and didn’t look up from his task.
“Are you Jerry?” a sked Jake.
“Who wants to know?” The bartender looked up. He was short and wiry, and had tattoos on both arms.
Jake looked around to see if there was anyone else in the room. “Well, I . . . do?”
“Yeah, and who are you?”
Jake leaned in conspiratorially. “Who wants to know?”
“Jesus Christ!” exclaimed the bartender.
“Whoa, seriously? You know Jesus? And he was asking about me?”
“Goddammit, everyone’s gotta be a damn comedian.”
“Actually, I am a comedian. I’m the headliner this weekend. I’m just che cking in.”
“So why do you want to know who I am?” demanded the bartender, glari ng at Jake
“If you’re Jerry, I met your cousin, Kellie, at her re staurant.”
“And if I’m not.” The bartender had been drying the same glass for over a m inute now.
“Then I met a woman name d Kellie.”
The bartender busted out laughing. “Yeah, I’m Jerry. I’m sorry, I was just messing with you. Curtis Sanders s ays ‘hi.’”
Jake roared with laughter at Curtis’ name and he shook Jerry’s hand. “Holy shit, man, you got me. That was awesome. Curtis put you up to that?”
“Yeah, he was in here a couple of weeks ago and he saw that you were on the schedule. He said when you got here, I was supposed to fuck with you somehow.”
The two men laughed and chattered, replaying the gag and breaking it down like they were football analysts discussing a great play. They even took a selfie on Jake’s phone, both of them flipping off t he camera.
“I’m sending this to Curtis,” said Jake. “I’d better check in with the owner. Is t hat Chip?”
“No, Shari runs the place now. Chip was the last owner, we just never changed the name.”
Jake and Jerry shook hands again, and Jake headed through the door Jerry had pointed at. He walked down a short hallway to the office and knocked on the d oor frame.
“H i. Shari?”
“Who wants to know?” said the woman, popping a fried brown disc into her mouth and chomp ing on it.
“I’m Jak e Nilsen.”
“ Knellson?”
“No , Nilsen.”
“Well, what’dya want. I’m busy here.” She ate another fried br own thing.
“Did Curtis tell you to fuck with me, too?”
The woman laughed. “Yeah , he did.”
“I just got it from Jerry,” Jake said. He related the story to her and Shari cried with laughter. “Yeah, Curtis is a good friend, but he pranks me pretty hard s ometimes.”
“He can be a handful, but we love having him here,” Shari said. She stood up and shook Jake’s hand. “Nice to meet you. I’m Shar i Tucker.”
“Thank you for having me. I appreciate you letting me show up a day early. I usually come into town the day of a show, but I didn’t have anything booked, so I thought I’d visit some bookstores and see what I co uld find.”
“You picked a great day for it. Have you been to Reed B ooks yet?”
“I was there this morning. Picked up a couple Rex Stouts I hadn’t read yet.”
“Excellent. I’m more of a Tami Hoag fan myself. You want a fried pickle?” She offered up a plate of the chips she had been mu nching on.
“No, thanks, I just had lunch at French’s.”
“Oh, I love French’s. Jerry’s cousin wor ks there.”
“I know. I actually met her and we chatted f or a bit.”
“Kellie’s a peach. And they have the best sweet tea in the city, too.” Shari ate another fried... pickle chip! That’s what she’s eating. “So you probably need the keys to the apartment, right? It’s not too far from here. We have another comic who’s finishing up tonight and she’s staying there until tomorrow morning. You don’t have a problem sharing a place with a woman , do you?”
“Not if she doesn’t,” said Jake.
“Great. Her name is Kayla Baker, and she was our middle over the weekend. She said she’d stick around and run our open mics during the week before she left for Mobile. She’s middling down t here too.”
“I’ve met Kayla a couple of times. We were on the same stage at a couple comedy festivals in Charleston and Asheville. She’s a lot of fun, but I don’t know her t hat well.”
“Oh, excellent. She knows you’re coming, and I’ve got the key right here.” Shari texted the address to Jake, and he looked it up on Waze. He thanked her, said his good-byes to Shari and Jerry, and headed to his apartment.


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