The Society Stalkerproblems Ivy Smoak download

https://ebookbell.com/product/the-society-stalkerproblems-ivy-
smoak-38047324

Explore and download more ebooks at ebookbell.com

Here are some recommended products that we believe you will be
interested in. You can click the link to download.

The Society Stalkerproblems Ivy Smoak

https://ebookbell.com/product/the-society-stalkerproblems-ivy-
smoak-38047318

The Society Series Books 1 3 The Society Series Boxset Ivy Fox

https://ebookbell.com/product/the-society-series-books-1-3-the-
society-series-boxset-ivy-fox-46080826

The Society Series Books 3 4 The Society Series Boxset Book 2 Ivy Fox

https://ebookbell.com/product/the-society-series-books-3-4-the-
society-series-boxset-book-2-ivy-fox-46080828

The Society Thisiswar Ivy Smoak

https://ebookbell.com/product/the-society-thisiswar-ivy-smoak-48637294
The Society Of The Horsemans Grip And Word Billy Rennie James S Munro

https://ebookbell.com/product/the-society-of-the-horsemans-grip-and-
word-billy-rennie-james-s-munro-49158526

The Society Of The Sacred Heart In 19th Century France 18001865 Phil
Kilroy

https://ebookbell.com/product/the-society-of-the-sacred-heart-in-19th-
century-france-18001865-phil-kilroy-49492990

The Society Of Jesus In Ireland Scotland And England 15981606 Lest Our
Lamp Be Entirely Extinguished Catholic Christendom 13001700 Thomas M
Mccoog S J

https://ebookbell.com/product/the-society-of-jesus-in-ireland-
scotland-and-england-15981606-lest-our-lamp-be-entirely-extinguished-
catholic-christendom-13001700-thomas-m-mccoog-s-j-49860466

The Society Of Jesus In Ireland Scotland And England 15891597 Building

The Faith Of Saint Peter Upon The King Of Spains Monarchy 2nd Edition
Thomas M Mccoog

https://ebookbell.com/product/the-society-of-jesus-in-ireland-
scotland-and-england-15891597-building-the-faith-of-saint-peter-upon-
the-king-of-spains-monarchy-2nd-edition-thomas-m-mccoog-50850416

The Society Of Genes Itai Yanai Lercher Martin

https://ebookbell.com/product/the-society-of-genes-itai-yanai-lercher-
martin-51389230
The Society #StalkerProblems

By Ivy Smoak

Copyright 2021 Ivy Smoak

All Rights Reserved
 Want a behind-the-scenes look at my journey as an author? The ups, the
downs, the movie deals…I’ll share it all!

And as a special thank you for joining, you’ll get an exclusive copy of my
book, The Society #Tanner.

CLICK HERE to join the party!

To anyone who dares to join the Society.
You’re invited...
 CONTENTS
Title
Chapter 1 - My Stalker
Chapter 2 - Stranger Danger
Chapter 3 - Under Arrest
Chapter 4 - The Invitation
Chapter 5 - A Million Dollars?!
Chapter 6 - Handsy Hassan
Chapter 7 - Literally Dying
Chapter 8 - Tax Codes
Chapter 9 - Yes, Doctor
Chapter 10 - Homeless Rutherford Strikes Again
Chapter 11 - The Contract
Chapter 12 - Hermit Weekend
Chapter 13 - #HorseFacts
Chapter 14 - Blueberry Pie
Chapter 15 - Smooth Floors?
Chapter 16 - Double, Double, Shower Trouble
Chapter 17 - JUMP!
Chapter 18 - The Escape
Chapter 19 - Holy Meaty Goodness
Chapter 20 - “True Love”
Chapter 21 - The Elevator Incident
Chapter 22 - Tanner Rhodes
Chapter 23 - Two Rude Surprises
Chapter 24 - Clause Fourteen
 Chapter 25 - Odegaard Gangbang
Chapter 26 - My Fashionista
Chapter 27 - Cash or Credit
Chapter 28 - Special Delivery
Chapter 29 - Jerkface
Chapter 30 - Tanner’s Secret
Chapter 31 - The Fourth Incident
Chapter 32 - An Unexpected Guest
Chapter 33 - Super Sexy Lunch Date
Chapter 34 - Garlic and Holy Water
Chapter 35 - My Second Wish
Chapter 36 - Hazing the Noob
Chapter 37 - So Much Awkward
Chapter 38 - Flint Ironside
Chapter 39 - Swimming with the Sharks
Chapter 40 - Sauna Surprise
Chapter 41 - Archer, Mustang, and Vandal
Chapter 42 - TOP SECRET
Chapter 43 - Son of a Dick
Chapter 44 - Refund Emergency
Chapter 45 - The Bookshelf
Chapter 46 - The Secret Door
Chapter 47 - Buggin’ Out
Chapter 48 - My Third Wish
Chapter 49 - DODO
Chapter 50 - Matthew Freaking Caldwell
Chapter 51 - Taken
Chapter 52 - The Sex Auction
 Chapter 53 - The Onyxies
Chapter 54 - Gray Sweatpants GIFs
Chapter 55 - They’re Back
Chapter 56 - Best Member
Chapter 57 - House(boy) Arrest
Chapter 58 - They’re Back Again!
Chapter 59 - Absolutely Delicious
Chapter 60 - Better Than Cake
Chapter 61 - Drenched
Chapter 62 - Highlight of My Life
Chapter 63 - The Spaceboy Collection
Chapter 64 - Monkey Party
Chapter 65 - A Kool-Aid Proposal
Chapter 66 - The L Word
City of Sin
A Note From Ivy
 Chapter 1 - My Stalker
Tuesday

I stared at the different smoothie flavors. The strawberry banana was calling
to me. But I’d promised myself I’d try a new flavor every time I came here.
I was kind of celebrating though. I’d officially signed my divorce papers
this morning. Goodbye, Joe Dickson. And good riddance. I thought I might
get emotional today, but I was feeling pretty freaking fantastic. Strawberry
banana kind of fantastic. Maybe…
“Next,” the barista called.
Oh no. I hadn’t made a choice yet. I hated when this happened.
Indecision was the worst when there was a line. And I’d rather drink
anything than make someone else feel annoyed waiting.
“Any day now, sweetie,” the barista said and put his hand on his hip.
I hated when he sassed me. So I blurted out the first flavor my eyes made
contact with. “Could I please have A Date with Buckwheat Hemp?” Ew,
what? The name was kind of cute, but the actual smoothie sounded freaking
terrible. I didn’t want buckwheat or hemp anywhere near my mouth. And
the date part of the name made me shiver. I hated the taste of dates. And I
hated all actual dates. I’d stopped going on them after…the incident.
The barista laughed. I wasn’t sure if it was because of the name of the
smoothie or the look of horror on my face.
It was probably my face. Which was fine. Be scared of me, barista man.
I preferred my men at a safe distance anyway. That way I couldn’t
accidentally set them on fire. Damn it! I promised myself I’d never think of
the incident ever again. But it just kept popping up. And now that I was
thinking about it, I couldn’t stop. It was like it was happening all over
again. My heart started racing as I pictured Matthew Caldwell’s dick
catching fire. Because I’d set it on fire by accidentally knocking a candle
into a saucer of oil and flinging it at his junk. The shriek of horror out of his
perfectly kissable mouth haunted my dreams. It was the worst thing that had
ever happened to me…and I hadn’t even been the one in flames. God, if I
ever saw Matthew Caldwell again, I’d just die.
“That’ll be $9.25,” said the barista.
I tried to shake the image of Matthew Caldwell out of my head. “$9.25?”
The strawberry banana one was only $7.
He shook his head and pointed to the sign behind him.
All the sass. Why did something so gross cost so much? I pulled out my
card and swiped it through the reader, trying not to wince. Please let me
have $9.25 left in my account. My card cleared and I breathed a sigh of
relief. Being unemployed really sucked. My now-official-ex-husband taking
all our assets in the divorce sucked even more. And if I didn’t figure out
something soon, I’d end up like the homeless guy in my apartment. I mean,
he didn’t live in my apartment. If he did he wouldn’t be homeless. But he
broke in all the time and liked to lick my freshly delivered pizzas. Homeless
Rutherford and I were not on good terms.
I stepped to the side as I waited for my smoothie to be made. I’d had an
interview today for my dream job. And I thought it went pretty well. But I’d
had to pee the whole time and was too nervous to ask where the restroom
was, so I’d almost peed my pants. They probably thought there was
something seriously wrong with me as I’d sprinted out of the room. Why
had my bladder failed me at the worst time? Almost. Almost failed me. I
hadn’t actually peed my pants.
 The barista was still looking at me weirdly as he placed my smoothie
down on the counter. Jokes on you, buddy. I’m not interested in dating you.
Besides, I was almost positive he was gay.
“Smoothie for Ass.”
“It’s Ash! Not Ass. How many times are we going to have this
discussion?”
He just shrugged.
I grabbed my smoothie. There was only one man I was actually
interested in anyway. And I was about to go stalk him. Er…view him from
a safe distance where I couldn’t accidentally set him on fire. If anything, he
was stalking me. But I kind of loved having a stalker. The way he stared at
me…
My phone started buzzing in my purse.
I jumped, causing some of my smoothie to splash out onto my pants.
Gross. Does hemp buckwheat stain?
I fumbled with my phone as I pulled it out. I didn’t recognize the
number. What kind of psychopath calls someone’s phone? Had they not
heard of texting? Or email? I debated not answering because they were
basic, but it was ringing and everyone in the smoothie shop was staring at
me. “Hello,” I whispered, trying not to disturb anyone.
“Hi, it sounds like you’re breaking up. Is this a bad time?”
Yes this is a bad time! There’s millions of people staring at me! “Who is
this?” Apparently I’d forgotten how to have a normal conversation. Not that
I’d ever known how. I tried to huddle in the corner of the shop so everyone
would leave me alone.
There was laughter on the other end. “It’s Bee. From…”
“Bee Inspired Media Group.” I held my breath. She was the woman I’d
interviewed with earlier today. The same interview that I’d sprinted out of
because of my bladder. My dream job.
“That’s the one,” she said. “We loved your ideas. We really think you’d
be a perfect addition to the team. If you could start next Wednesday…”
“Yes!” I screamed into the phone and somehow managed to spill some
of my smoothie onto my shirt now too. Now everyone really was staring at
me.
“That’s wonderful,” Bee said. “We’re so excited to have you. I’ll see you
at 9 am next Wednesday morning.”
“It’s a date.” Oh my fucking God, what did I just say?! Did I just ask my
married new female boss out on a date? Why? Really…why?
Bee laughed. “See you Wednesday, Ash.”
I squealed when she hung up. At least, I hoped she’d hung up. Because I
really didn’t want to break my new boss’ eardrum. “I got a new job!” I
yelled to the sassy barista.
“Cool,” he said.
How was he not excited for me? Oh, he didn’t know why else I was so
happy. “And I’m officially divorced!” This was the best day of my life!
“Shocker.”
Rude. I needed to start going to a different smoothie place. If only there
was another one so close to my stalker’s residence and my spin class… But
alas, there wasn’t. So I was stuck with this rude boy.
“We’re closing,” the barista said. “So you need to leave.”
Shit. I looked down at my phone. It was almost 8 o’clock. I was going to
be late! I ran out of the smoothie shop and sprinted as fast as I could. My
best friend always made fun of me for wearing sneakers…but in this case,
they came in handy.
I realized about halfway to my stalker’s apartment building that I had
smoothie stains all over my shirt and pants. I started blotting at them as I
ran, somehow spilling more of the pungent smoothie everywhere. Did
buckwheat have some kind of weird magical attraction to clothing?
I skidded to a stop in the middle of the sidewalk when I saw someone
come out of my stalker’s building. He lived in One57. It was the most
prestigious apartment building in the city. I couldn’t even fathom what
someone did for a living to afford a place in there. But I didn’t have time to
daydream about his profession today. Because it wasn’t my stalker that had
just walked out onto the sidewalk.
No.
No, no, no.
Matthew. Freaking. Caldwell. The man whose penis I’d set on fire.
I couldn’t face him. I’d seen him once after the flaming pants incident
and I’d jumped into a lake to avoid him. It hadn’t worked. I’d wished I’d
drowned.
I ducked into an alleyway before he could spot me. There was an open
dumpster calling to me. It was overflowing with bags of trash. It would be
the perfect place to hide. But I was deathly afraid of germs. It was like at
the top of my list of greatest fears. Right under being late. This was what I
got for being late for my stalker’s stalking. God. What do I do?
I started fanning myself because I was breaking out in a sweat. There
wasn’t really a choice here. Screw my life. The dumpster was the only
option. I was just about to fling myself into it when I thought I should
probably at least check to see if Matt was coming this way.
I peered around the corner toward One57. And…Matt was nowhere to be
seen. I breathed a huge sigh of relief. He must have been going the opposite
direction. Or maybe I’d just imagined him. I often dreamt of running into
him again and having to hurl myself into oncoming traffic. Phew. Today
really was my lucky day!
 I debated emerging from my hiding spot. On Tuesdays and Thursdays at
exactly 8 o’clock, I always sat on the bench across the street from One57.
For my stalker’s optimal viewing pleasure. But today I had stains all over
myself. And I was sure my face was flushed from running and almost
having to dumpster dive. So it was probably better to keep hiding. This was
why I always brought binoculars with me. Just in case.
They weren’t creepy stalker binoculars. Because I wasn’t a stalker. He
was. These were like fancy opera watching binoculars. Or ones you’d use to
watch the Kentucky Derby. I wasn’t doing anything weird. I pulled them
out just in time.
My stalker emerged from One57. God, he was so handsome.
I audibly sighed. The only reason I put up with his stalkery tendencies
was because he was gorgeous. His expensive tailored suit stretched
perfectly across his broad shoulders. His jaw looked like it had been
chiseled by a sculptor. What I would do to lick it…
And his smile. God. He smiled down at his driver, a little man in a
butler’s uniform that always seemed to be bowing and scurrying about.
Honestly it was hard not to laugh at his driver in his little costume. But my
stalker didn’t laugh at him. I liked that he treated his employees like the
humans they were. He was kind and warm and compassionate. I assumed.
But it was his confidence that really made him intriguing. His suits were
always colorful. Today the fabric was crimson with black polka dots. The
sides of his head were shaved, with the top kept long and pulled into a man
bun. Who the hell is confident enough to dress like that? God knows I
wasn't. And I think that was why I was so attracted to him. Er…I mean,
that’s why I didn’t report him to the cops for being a stalker. Because he
dressed, walked, and probably talked with so much confidence.
 I had no idea what his name was. Even though I assumed he knew mine.
I didn’t even know what he did for a living. But if he lived in One57, he
was definitely filthy rich. Was he a powerful CEO? No, a CEO wouldn't
dress the way he did, or have a man bun. He was unique. Danger oozed off
of him. Maybe he was in the mafia. Or maybe he was the owner of a club. It
was easy to picture him sitting in the VIP section, a cigar in his mouth and
each arm draped around a beautiful model. Ew, no. Scratch the models. I
amended my vision to include a few bouncers keeping the hordes of club
girls away from him. Except me. If I were there, we'd lock eyes, and he'd
tell the bouncers to let me approach.
I watched as his eyes darted toward the bench I usually sat on.
He scowled.
Oh my God, he scowled! He was sad that I wasn’t there. He really is
stalking me! I’ll be honest, for a few months there, I’d been a little worried I
was the stalker.
I adjusted my binoculars. This wasn’t all in my head. Sometimes I
wondered if I just imagined us making eye contact every Tuesday and
Thursday evening. But this proved that I wasn’t just daydreaming. My
stalker really did stare intently into my eyes twice a week. The only
explanation I could think of was that he was stalking me. I didn’t condone
stalking. But I really liked the way he stared at me. He made me feel…
beautiful.
And honestly, this was the only kind of relationship I trusted myself to
be in these days. I got to ogle him from a safe distance so that I’d never
repeat the incident. And he…I don’t know what was in it for him. I was
pretty sure he was just madly in love with me. Such a stalker.
I watched as his driver opened the door of his black Rolls Royce
Phantom limousine. My stalker glanced once more toward the empty bench.
 God, I could watch him like this all day. I took a sip of my smoothie,
forgetting for a moment that I’d ordered one with hemp and buckwheat. I
started gagging. Why did I keep trying superfoods? Superfoods were the
freaking worst.
When I looked back at my stalker, he was staring at me. Holding my
binoculars. With smoothie dribbling down my chin. I’d been caught looking
every bit the stalker in this situation.
Kill me now.
 Chapter 2 - Stranger Danger
Tuesday

I swore my stalker laughed at me. But it happened so fast, I couldn’t be

sure. The next thing I knew he’d climbed into the back seat and his driver
had sped off. The limousine drove past me, license plate number B783...
Just kidding. I totally didn't have his license plate memorized or anything.
Because that would be crazy. And I wasn’t crazy. He was. The guy was
nuts.
Such a stalker.
I stared at the car disappearing into traffic as I took another sip of my
smoothie. I immediately gagged again, somehow forgetting the disgusting
flavors from a few seconds ago. Gross. Trying new things sucked. I threw
the smoothie into the dumpster. The sight of it made me shiver. Did I really
almost jump in there?
That would have been crazy.
As soon as my stalker’s limo was out of sight, I emerged from my hiding
spot. That was a close call. Yes, he’d seen me spying on him. But I’d seen
him looking for me. I was already in a good mood. But him missing me?
That was the icing on the cake. I smiled to myself. I wanted to dance and
jump and sing in the middle of the sidewalk. But if I didn’t hurry, I’d be late
for my spin class.
My ex-husband had royally screwed me in the divorce. The stupid
cheating asshole had blackmailed me with a sex tape I’d made for him a
few years ago. He had only left me with two things in the divorce: enough
money to pay three months’ rent in the dingy old apartment we’d gotten
when we first moved to New York, and a membership to this stupid spin
class right in the center of Manhattan. He’d given it to me two years ago for
Christmas. I’d taken it as an insult and never gone. So of course he left it to
me as one final jab at my self-confidence.
The joke was on him, though, because I’d been coming here for months,
focusing on getting the best damned revenge body in the history of revenge
bodies. And I was confident-AF. Most days. I also didn’t mind that coming
here gave me an excuse to lurk outside One57 at 8 pm on Tuesdays and
Thursdays so that my stalker could get me out of his system. Did I say lurk?
I meant casually lounge on a bench. Those biweekly encounters were
probably the only thing keeping my stalker sane and preventing him from
showing up at my house with a knife or something crazy. That was a scary
thought.
Hopefully my stalker was of the sweet variety. Although, I bet he was a
beast in the bedroom. He had that look about him. Rawr. I bet he rawred in
the bedroom. I pictured him stalking me like a lion on the prowl. Pouncing
on me and tangling us up in the sheets. I couldn’t wait to run my fingers
through his hair. And feel the scruff on his jaw line. And ask him a million
questions about his personal life.
I walked into the locker room. It always felt like I’d accidentally
wandered backstage at an Odegaard fashion show. Seriously. Joe had
definitely picked out this place specifically to torture me. But I wasn’t
phased. After all, none of these women had the most gorgeous stalker on
earth. I did.
I opened my locker and started to change. I ignored the way my jeans
tried to rip off my underwear with them because they were so tight. I
pretended I didn’t have stretch marks on my ass that grew too fast in college
because of the all-you-can-eat buffets. Spoiler alert, I could eat a lot.
Because food without hemp was delicious. Luckily for me, a lot of the food
went straight to my boobs too.
I snuck a sideways glance at the girl next to me. She had stripped down
to her $500 lingerie and was literally measuring her waist. She had a tape
measure in one hand as she jotted down the measurements with her other. I
shouldn't have looked. But I couldn't help myself. Twenty-two inches.
Twenty-two! How was that even possible?
Fine, maybe it bothered me a little to be surrounded by all these
supermodels. I pulled my red hair into a messy bun. It wasn’t worth
comparing myself to these women though. They were stunning, yes. And
me? I just had a smattering of freckles across my nose and a face that made
me look like I was forever in high school. But my stalker stared at me like I
was sexy. Not cute. Hopefully he’d never accidentally stroll into this room.
Because I couldn’t deal with my stalker stalking anyone else.
Maybe he preferred cute little redheads to wine, dine, and cut up into
little pieces. God, why am I suddenly picturing my stalker as a serial killer?
I needed to stop with my overactive imagination. He just likes to wine and
dine and have magnificent sex with redheads. No murder necessary. But
what man really preferred redheads?
I was pretty sure the answer was none. Because gingers are weird and
people think we don’t have souls. For the record, we do. But I did
understand why guys preferred blondes with tanned skin. All the ones I
knew were always smiling. It truly seemed like they did have more fun.
And there was no doubt about the existence of their souls.
"Hey girl," said someone behind me. A normal person would have
turned around and said hi. But I wasn't normal. The thought of a stranger
talking to me made my heart rate double. Small talk felt like being
waterboarded, and it was only amplified by the fact that small talk at this
spin class was mostly about how Yvonne had taken three whole weeks to
get back into Instagram shape after having her baby. What a lazy slut, huh?
Please don't be talking to me. Please don't be talking to me, I thought as
I buried my head in my locker. I tried to look busy by moving my bag
around.
"Ash," said the person.
Not necessarily me. There could be plenty of Ashleys here.
And then they tapped on my shoulder.
Screw my life. I didn’t want to talk about Yvonne’s weight loss when
technically I’d been gaining weight over the past few months instead of
losing it. I didn’t know how that was happening. I was pretty sure it was
because I was gaining muscle. And maybe a little because I refused to stop
eating ice cream. What kind of monster gives up ice cream? Although,
talking to one of the members of my spin class might be helpful. Because I
was really wondering if I should be eating protein before or after my
workout. I’d been getting these protein smoothies before coming here and
now I was just worried that was exactly what I shouldn’t be doing. Hmm…
“Ash!”
Oh God, I can’t stall anymore. I slowly turned to see which of the
supermodels deigned to speak to me. But it wasn't one of them. It was my
best friend, Chastity.
"What are you doing here?" I asked. I didn’t wait for her to respond
before I threw my arms around her. I was just so relieved I didn’t have to
talk to a stranger today. My best-day-ever streak was continuing.
Chastity laughed. Then she pulled back and gave me a devious smile. "I
wanted to come see what drags you all the way out here to midtown twice a
week. I have to admit, I'm disappointed so far. I was expecting there to be a
pizza and ice-cream buffet. Or at least some hot guys."
 Oh God, does she somehow know about my stalker? I kind of liked
having this one thing all to myself. Although if he were a serial killer, it
would be good to give Chastity a heads up. I bit the inside of my lip. Telling
her could wait. He hadn’t even done anything dangerous yet. Just those
sultry looks. Mmm. "Sorry to disappoint."
"So what am I missing? Is it the instructor? Is he #gorg or..."
That was definitely not it. But if I admitted there were no hot guys here,
she’d leave. And I was super happy she was here. I slammed my locker
closed. "Come on, class is about to start." I grabbed her arm to pull her
through the sea of models.
Chastity shook her head. “Spin classes are so 2010. If you really want a
good workout, you should come to my nude yogalates class sometime.”
Never.
“But for now, we should go back to my place, get some takeout, and
watch whatever show you want. Burgers on me.”
That was such a tempting offer. Especially because today had been
amazing and I had so much to celebrate. But I needed this. After my
separation from Joe, I’d resolved to focus on finding myself. And I wasn’t
going to find myself at my favorite burger joint. “But you haven’t even seen
the hot instructor yet.” I raised both my eyebrows. He wasn’t actually hot.
But Chastity didn’t need to know that yet. Hopefully once she was in there,
she’d just finish the class with me. Although I never really knew what to
expect with Chastity. She’d probably flirt her way out of the class somehow.
“I knew it,” she hissed. “Look at you, you can’t stop smiling. I knew you
came down here all the time to ogle some hottie. I’ll be your wing girl and
try to get his number for you.”
I was smiling because I was finally divorced. And I’d confirmed that my
stalker was stalking me. And I’d gotten my freaking dream job! Oh, I badly
wanted to tell Chastity that I got the job. After all…she’d hooked me up
with the interview. We’d been talking about getting to work together ever
since graduating from college. It was going to be so much fun. But if I told
her right now, she’d definitely pull me out of here and say we needed drinks
to celebrate. And I wanted to get my spin on. I’d tell her right after we were
done.
“This is perfect,” Chastity said. “I keep telling you, you’re going to feel
so much better after you get laid.”
I laughed. She was going to be wildly unimpressed by my spin class
instructor. If only she could somehow get the number of the guy I was
stalking. I shook my head. He was stalking me. And I didn’t need a wing
woman when it came to my stalker. I needed a restraining order. The guy
was clearly obsessed with me. In a really good way.
I knew what I needed to do. And it had nothing to do with getting a
restraining order. I needed to be my own wing woman. On Thursday at 8
o’clock I’d walk right up to my stalker and introduce myself. I just needed
to figure out the particulars. And do some research to see if I could fit a fire
extinguisher in my purse just in case I accidentally recreated the events of
the incident. And maybe do some light stalking of my own to make sure he’s
not a serial killer.
 Chapter 3 - Under Arrest
Tuesday

One thing I’d learned since Joe and I separated was that I actually liked
exercising. Well, maybe not the act of exercising. It felt like slow torture.
But I liked the results. I liked that it made me look younger and more toned.
Yeah, I wasn’t a supermodel like these women. But I felt really good about
myself now after years of Joe putting me down. And each time I came to
spin class, the workout got easier. I could actually feel the corners of my
mouth tick up as I started spinning faster.
I wanted to believe I was doing this completely for me. But my stalker
was in the back of my mind all the time. Did he notice my transformation?
Did he like it? I tried to shake away the thought, but it was impossible. It
was like I was living in a constant daydream. He stares at me too.
The instructor yelled profanities at us for motivation and I spun faster.
I didn’t care at all that the instructor wasn’t a hot dude. But apparently
Chastity did. Because we only made it about two minutes into the class
before Chastity screamed bloody murder and jumped off her bike.
"I don't know her," I muttered as all my fellow spinners turned to look at
us. But as Chastity rolled and flopped around like a soccer player who had
just received a fake life-threatening injury, I began to get concerned. More
about her mental health than her ankle, but still concerned. What the hell
was she doing? I got off my bike and knelt by her side while the entire class
watched. "You okay?" I asked. I hated everyone’s eyes on us. I was never
going to live this down. Now I’d have to sell my membership…
 Chastity winced and grabbed at her knee. "My ankle," she cried. "I think
it's broken." She looked down and grimaced. “Definitely broken.”
"You're holding your knee."
She quickly repositioned her hands. "Can you take me home?"
"Is she okay?" asked the instructor, even though it was pretty clear that
Chastity was faking her injury. She knew I hated when people made a
scene. Why was she doing this to me? Oh right…I’d lied to her about the
instructor being hot. Payback was a bitch.
"She'll be fine," I said. Together, the instructor and I pulled Chastity to
her feet and helped her back into the locker room. Then we got an Uber
back to her apartment. She stayed true to her story that her ankle was
broken throughout the ride, but to me she seemed much more concerned
with touching up her makeup and texting. I craned my neck to try to see
who she was talking to, but she was quick to block my view.
"You're being weird," I said.
"You'd be weird too if you had a broken ankle. This shit hurts." She
puckered her lips and stared into her handheld mirror as she checked out her
freshly applied lipstick.
We were just going to her apartment. Why was she putting on lipstick?
“Then shouldn’t we be going to the hospital?”
“What kind of insurance do you think I have? No. I just need some ice.
Oh, ice!” She started texting again.
Yeah, she was definitely being weird. “Should we stop and get some?” I
asked.
“What?” She finally looked up from her phone.
“Some ice.”
“No, I’ve got it covered.”
Okay…
 She went back to texting.
When our Uber arrived at her building, she requested I help her up. She
put her arm around me and hopped on one leg…which was the same leg she
had supposedly broken. If the spin class had been too intense for her, she
should have just pretended to get an urgent text or something. This ankle
thing was way over the top. And I was kind of annoyed that she’d made me
miss the rest of my workout. Maybe I could go for a run later. I almost
laughed out loud. A run? I was divorced. I hadn’t lost my mind. I bit the
inside of my lip. Or maybe I loved running and I just didn’t know it yet? I’d
add it to my list of things to try.
"Here," Chastity said, handing me the key to her apartment as she tossed
her long blonde hair over her shoulder and popped her hip like she was
posing for an Instagram picture.
“What are you doing?”
“Huh?” She looked down at her pose. “Nothing. Stop being weird.”
“I’m not being weird. You’re being weird.”
She shrugged and held up her phone like she was about to take a picture
of me.
Yeah, she was definitely being weird. Which was saying something.
Because I had quite a bit of experience in that department. I unlocked the
door and turned to help her in. I closed the door behind us and tried to find
the lights.
“Someone’s been naughty,” a deep voice said from somewhere in the
dark apartment.
I screamed at the top of my lungs.
Chastity flipped the light switch on.
And standing in the middle of the apartment was a very well-built police
officer. He flashed us his badge and then lifted up a pair of handcuffs.
 “You’re under arrest, Ashley Cooper.”
No. I hadn’t done anything wrong. I wasn’t going down like this!
“Turn around slowly,” he said.
Fuck that. I did the first thing I could think of and sprinted toward the
fire escape.
“You’re going to regret resisting arrest!” the officer yelled behind me.
Shit! Was I breaking the law by running? It was too late now - I was
already climbing down the fire escape. How many years in prison would I
get for this? And what had I done to get arrested in the first place? I never
broke any laws. Going to jail was on my list of greatest fears!
“Ash!” Chastity yelled from behind me.
Sorry, Chastity. It was every woman for herself. And it didn’t sound like
he was there to arrest her. He’d said my name. I was the one running from
the law. I was going to have to change my name. Again. Damn it! I’d just
changed my last name back to my maiden name earlier today. God, I hated
going to the DMV. Not that I could go to the DMV now. I was a wanted
woman.
The stairs clanged beneath me as I picked up my pace. I needed to get
out of the city. Could I make it to the docks before getting caught?
“Ash, stop!” Chastity yelled again.
I was pretty sure I heard a chorus of people yelling “surprise” too. But I
wasn’t sure. And I didn’t have any time to think about it because I hopped
onto the landing wrong and fell off the side of the fire escape. And right
into an open dumpster.
I screamed at the top of my lungs as my ass collided with a bag of foul-
smelling trash, popping it and making it seep all over me. I’d known I was
doomed to end up in a dumpster today as soon as I saw Matthew Caldwell.
Fate, you filthy mistress.
 “Ash!” Chastity yelled from somewhere not in the dumpster. “What are
you doing in there? He’s just a stripper!”
Say what? I peered over the side of the dumpster, cringing when my
hand made contact with the metal. “What are you talking about? Did he
follow me?”
“I hired a stripper for you. To celebrate signing the papers. Happy
Divorce Day!”
“That’s not a thing!” I knew she’d been faking her injury. I should have
suspected that she was luring me to a party I didn’t want to attend.
She laughed. “I got you so good.”
“You know my rule about strippers!” I wanted to laugh too. Because this
wasn’t the first time this kind of thing had happened to me. For my
bachelorette party, a stripper had shown up yelling about a fire he needed to
put out. I’d thought the building was burning down so I fled down the fire
escape. I’d legit run barefoot for three blocks before I realized he was a
stripper rather than a real fireman. The fact that I saw no flames or smoke
tipped me off. I’d made a no stripper rule after that for a reason. And rules
were not meant to be broken.
“You’re single again, Ash. Which means Single Girl Rules are back in
effect! So your no stripper rule is trumped by Single Girl Rule #10: All
celebrations of important life events must involve strippers.”
“No Single Girl Rules!” The only good thing about being with Joe was
that I got out of all Chastity’s crazy Single Girl Rules. They were not
normal girl code rules. They were fucking nuts. Just like her.
“Come on, let’s get you back inside. All the guests are waiting…”
“All the guests?! Chastity, I’m covered in garbage!” I tried not to gag.
“But…there’s food and presents…”
I did love food and presents.
 “And your whole extended family…”
“What? Chastity, why is my whole family here?” And why would she
invite a stripper to a family affair?
“You know Aunt Carol tags along everywhere with your parents.”
Aunt Carol was technically my great aunt. And she couldn’t be trusted to
be left alone, so my parents always brought her to events like this. Well…
not like this. I had no idea what the hell this was. Divorce Day parties
weren’t a thing.
“I need a shower and some alone time,” I said. “Not a party.”
Chastity sighed. “I’ll make a deal with you. I’ll let you have a shower.
But how about we still have a girls’ night?”
“A very small girls’ night.”
“Exactly.”
I didn’t really believe her. But I wanted out of this dumpster as soon as
possible. “Fine. Help me out of here and then get rid of everyone. Including
the stripper.”
“You’re #lame. But fine.”

***

I pulled on a pair of Chastity’s sweatpants and a tank top she’d let me

borrow. I’d scrubbed myself raw until the water turned cold. And I still felt
dirty. And not in a good way like my stalker made me feel.
I peered out of the bathroom to see if Chastity had kept her promise. I
spotted all my friends through the sea of balloons. And when I say, "all my
friends," I mean Chastity and two other girls my age, one that I liked and
one that I really didn’t but had to pretend to because my other friends
maybe kind of liked her. Chastity had kept her word. It was just a very
small girls’ night.
“Finally,” Chastity said. “Come join us.
“Your mom made that zucchini bread you love. And I made one too.”
She pointed to a raw zucchini on a plate with a dinner roll on each side,
resembling a penis.
“That does not classify as zucchini bread,” I said. “Chastity, why on
earth did you invite a stripper to a party that my parents were attending?”
Chastity laughed. “They didn’t care. And Aunt Carol seemed particularly
pleased by the fake police officer. She couldn’t look away.”
“She can barely see.” I plopped down on the couch next to Madison, the
other friend I actually liked. I didn’t bother to say hi to Liz because she was
probably already asleep. Really…why did my friends keep inviting her to
things? She wasn’t even conscious.
I lifted up a slice of pizza. At least there was the promised food. And
presents. My eyes landed on the pile of presents next to the couch. “Can I
open those?” If I’d known that getting divorced meant I’d be getting a pile
of presents, maybe I would have dumped Joe a long time ago. Way before I
found out he was cheating on me with an instamodel.
“I thought you’d never ask.” Chastity tossed me the first present.
It was a self-help book titled “You Are Not Worthless” from Madison.
Um, I know that. Why did people assume I was depressed because I got
divorced? I was happy. Next up was a definitely re-gifted bread maker.
Followed by three sets of wine glasses, two pieces of divorce-themed wall
art, and a bunch of stuff from Hallmark. There was a set of lacy black
lingerie that I assumed was from Chastity. “Thanks, Chastity.”
She shook her head. “That wasn’t from me. I got you the stripper.”
 Right. I turned over the card. It said it was from Aunt Carol. Ew. I felt
dirty again. Almost as dirty as when my body was in the dumpster.
I quickly lifted up the last present. It was a six-month subscription to
Match.com. Great. Whoever gave me this must not have realized that I
couldn’t be trusted around men and fire.
“Perfect,” Chastity said and snatched it out of my hand. “Let’s get you
signed up tonight!”
“What? No way.”
“Why not?”
“You know I can’t date right now. Not after…” I looked both ways like
someone that didn’t know about it would overhear. But they all knew…
“The incident.”
“Would you stop whispering that?” said Chastity. “It’s not a big deal.
You set some guy’s dick on fire one time. That’s not a reason to give up
dating!”
“It was more than just that. I stripped in the public restroom and he
caught me nearly naked drying my shirt under the hand dryer.”
“And on your next date you’re not going to do either of those things.”
“I was also late.” The worst of all the things. I poured myself a glass of
wine to distract myself. I didn’t want to relive that date right now. Don’t
think about it. Don’t think about it. I gulped down a huge sip.
“If you go on time to a date you look desperate. Come on guys, help me
out here.”
Liz snored.
“I think it’s great that Ash is taking some time off from the dating
scene,” Madison said. “She needs time for just us girls right now. We don’t
need men to be happy.”
 I laughed. Madison had always thought Joe was an ass, and he always
thought that she had a big lesbian crush on me - his words, not mine. The
fact that she loved watching the Yankees and talking about the players’ hot
little butts did not influence his opinion of her. Because she’d never had a
boyfriend. And she had a penchant for making penis mutilation jokes.
Either way, she was my friend. She had been since before I ever met Joe.
And now I needed everything pre-Joe more than ever.
“You’re seriously not going to sign up?” Chastity asked.
I shook my head. I didn’t need to date right now. I had my stalker. The
last thing I needed was for him to get jealous. He was probably crazy, after
all.
“Well there goes that plan. I was definitely going to have you sign up for
a dating app tonight. But fine. Onto more important matters. Let’s discuss
the Single Girl Rules instead, because there have been a few modifications
since the last time you were single.”
“We’re 28 years old. We’re not following those silly rules anymore.”
God, the things she’d tried to make me do in college with those damned
rules. I’d even almost gotten arrested one time thanks to her.
“Here’s your official membership card.” She handed me a little credit
card that said SINGLE GIRL RULES at the top and then had dozens of
rules broken into various sections. First were the 10 commandments:
1. Boys are replaceable. Friends are forever.
2. Girls’ night is every Friday. No exceptions.
3. Never let a friend go into a bathroom alone.
4. You can never have too many shoes.
5. Have wine in your purse at all times.
I stopped reading at #5. “Chastity, how many times do I have to tell you
that you have to get rid of rule #5? Having a flask of wine in my purse
almost got me arrested!”
“I didn’t make up the rules.”
I laughed. “Of course you did.”
“Nope. They’re well-known sacred laws of single ladies all over the
world. Ask any single girl.”
“I’d never heard of them before meeting you,” said Madison.
See. But I didn’t have time to protest anymore because there was a loud
knock on the door. I threw myself onto the ground. “Not more strippers!” I
hissed.
Chastity laughed. “If it is strippers…I didn’t order them. Must have been
Madison.”
“I’d never degrade someone like that,” Madison said. “Even if it is a
man.”
I rolled my eyes. Was it really degrading someone if they were getting
paid? Wait…that didn’t make sense.
“You should answer it,” Chastity said. “It’s probably for you. It is your
Divorce Day party, after all.”
Oh God… I got up off the floor and hesitantly peered out the peephole.
There were no strippers. Just an empty hallway. Weird. I opened the door
and looked down the hall just in time to catch the sight of a well-built
FedEx man stepping onto the elevator. He hadn’t left any packages - just a
little black envelope about the size of an iPhone.
“Who was it?” asked Chastity.
“FedEx guy. He left this.” I held up the envelope for them to see. It felt
more like silk than paper, complete with black lace detailing and gold trim.
The back was sealed with a runic symbol pressed into gold wax. “Well this
is fancy,” I muttered. Please be cash. Please be cash. I knew I was starting
my new job next week, but I could really use the money before my first
paycheck came in.
“Open it!” yelled Chastity.
I broke the seal and pulled out the contents - a single piece of thick white
parchment. I read the message out loud:

Congratulations! You have been nominated to become a member of the

Society. To join, please fill out this form in its entirety and mail it to PO
Box 157.

Below that, there was only one question:

What is your first wish?

The Society? What the heck is this?

Chastity gasped. “No. Freaking. Way.”
 Chapter 4 - The Invitation
Tuesday

I stared at her. “Um…what?”

She looked like she was in shock. Or maybe she was pretending like she
had with her broken ankle. But playing along with that had led to me falling
into a dumpster. I wasn’t falling for her tricks again.
“Really, what is this?” I held up the invitation.
“I’ve heard rumors about the Society.” Chastity shook her head as she
eyed the invite. “I can’t believe it’s actually real.”
She was really milking this. “So what is it? A club of some sort?”
“A sex club,” Liz said.
I jumped. I hadn’t realized she’d woken up.
“The most exclusive sex club in the city. Or at least, that’s what my
students say about it.”
A sex club? I laughed. Good one. But Chastity actually looked genuinely
surprised now. Maybe she hadn’t sent this invitation. But then…who the
hell had? Chastity had invited lots of people to this party tonight apparently.
Most of whom I probably didn’t know because my only friends were still
sitting on the couch. Which weirdo gave me this invitation? Whoever it was
must have spent hours designing and handcrafting the silky envelope and
figuring out how to seal it with wax. Of the people I actually knew, my first
guess was Aunt Carol, but she’d already given me lingerie. Gag. That left
Liz as my top suspect. She was always doing weird artsy shit with her
boyfriend when they weren't too busy shopping for antiques or dressing up
as furries. And she hadn’t given me a present. Although, she never gave me
presents. Not even at my wedding. What kind of monster showed up to a
wedding empty-handed? And she’d heard the rumors about the Society
too…
“Did you give me this?” I asked her.
Liz shook her head. “No, I didn’t bring any gifts.”
No surprise there.
“This is a big deal,” Chastity said. “It’s more exclusive than any other
sex club in town.”
She seemed to know more than she was letting on. Because I’d never
heard of the Society…or any sex club for that matter. I changed my mind. It
was definitely from her.
“What are you going to wish for?" she asked.
The invitation wasn’t real, so my answer didn’t really matter. "I think I'm
going to wish for this girls’ night to end before more strippers arrive."
"Well that would be a waste of a wish. I only hired the one."
I laughed. Maybe I should wish for my new job to go well. I was really
starting to get nervous. Yes, I loved marketing and it was a dream come true
to be working for one of the top firms in New York. But I didn’t love the
idea of having to interact with other humans from 9 to 5 every day. Or
having to wear pants. I preferred only dressing up on Tuesdays and
Thursdays for my stalker. Why was I even thinking about this? The
invitation was clearly a joke. Right? But that did remind me… “I got the
job. At BIMG.”
“Ah!” Chastity screamed. “That’s awesome. But back to the Society
invitation real quick. You should wish for a new man.”
Wow, I thought she’d be a little happier about the fact that I’d be
working with her. Madison worked there too. I turned to her. She’d
congratulate me for acing the interview.
 "Oh!" said Madison. "You should wish that Joe gets his dick torn off in a
meat grinder!"
I laughed. "I'm not going to wish for that.” I couldn’t believe that even
Madison was more excited about the invitation than my new job. But now I
had no choice but to humor them and play along. “I guess revenge on Joe
would be pretty sweet.”
"Well of course you’re going to get revenge.” Chastity pointed to my
single girl membership card. “Rule #37: The best way to break up with a
guy is to fuck his best friend.”
“But that would violate Rule #21: No kissing uggos.” Yes, I knew the
rules by heart. And I was pretty sure this was the first time one of them had
actually come in handy.
“Let’s just beat him up instead,” suggested Madison.
“Hmm…” I said. “Maybe we should leave the specifics up to the
Society. Or Santa Claus. Or whichever one of you gave me this weird
letter.” I grabbed a pen and wrote on the parchment, "I wish for revenge on
my stupid cheating husband." I probably should have written ex-husband,
but whatever. They'd get the point.
As soon as I wrote it down though, I regretted it. There was only one
thing I really wanted. The man at One57. My stalker. But I couldn't say that
out loud. No one would understand. I was worried that as soon as I told
someone they’d make me feel weird about it. What we had wasn’t
orthodox. But it worked for us. And honestly, I’d kind of been living for
Tuesday and Thursday nights. I mean…he’d been living for those nights.
Since he was stalking me.
"While you’re at it, you should also wish for shoes," said Chastity.
"Okay, shoes too then." I grabbed the paper and added, "And some free
shoes, please." Technically it was two wishes. But none of that mattered,
since nothing I wrote down would come true. Wishes? Yeah right. If wishes
came true I wouldn’t accidentally set men on fire on blind dates and I’d be
happily married to my stalker. I held up the paper for everyone to see.
"There, my wish has been made. Now it's cake time." And then it's time for
me to go home. I needed to take at least three more showers before I’d feel
truly clean again.
We had some cake, and then I left. I debated taking my wish so that I
could mail it later. A fake wish for a fake invitation-only sex club wasn’t
worth the postage when I was drowning in debt. If only wishes really came
true. I slid the paper with my wishes back into the envelope and left it on
the coffee table. And even though I didn’t believe in wishes, I wished that
my stalker would talk to me on Thursday.

***

PO Box 157. I hadn’t thought anything of it when I first read that I was
supposed to mail my wish there. But now, as I lay sleeplessly in my bed at 3
in the morning, it was all I could think about.
Was it a coincidence that the letter was supposed to be mailed to PO Box
157 and my stalker happened to live in One57? Maybe. But then factor in
that the FedEx man who delivered it had been about the same height and
build as my stalker, and it suddenly seemed less like a coincidence. Had my
stalker delivered that letter? If only I had gotten a better look at that FedEx
man…
Not that any of it mattered. Because I’d left the invitation at Chastity’s
apartment. It was all a joke anyway. Secret societies didn’t exist. Well
maybe they did. But not for people like me.
 I rolled over and tried to find a colder spot on my pillow. I almost
apologized to Joe for being “so wiggly” (as he had frequently called me),
but then I snapped back to the reality where Joe had cheated on me with
Sierra the Instagram model. Was he sleeping with her right now? Gross.
I grabbed my phone off the nightstand and checked Sierra’s Instagram.
Nothing new since I had last checked. Which had been right before I’d
climbed into bed. I had a ritual. Wash my face, brush my teeth, check my
Instagram to see what Joe and Sierra were up to, and then go to bed.
Yes, I knew I had a problem. I bit the inside of my lip as I started
scrolling through all her pictures again. She looked perfect. According to
GQ.com, she was the hottest redhead in New York. Which was total
bullshit. Because she didn’t even have real red hair. It was clearly dyed.
Was she trying to be me to steal my husband?
Ha. She wished she could be like me. Then she could be stalked by my
stalker instead of spending time with Joe. Joe and Sierra were both total
losers. They belonged together.
I didn’t check their Instagram accounts before bed because I was sad or
jealous or anything crazy like that. I just liked to know what was going on
with people who used to be in my life. It was normal. Oh God, I really am a
stalker. I pushed the thought aside. Am not.
I needed something to distract myself, so I forced myself to get up and
do something productive. I stared down at my list of new things to try now
that I was single. The only things on the list were finding my favorite
smoothie flavor and my new addition from this evening – go for a run. I
wasn’t trying to get mugged, so running was off the table in the middle of
the night. Getting blackout drunk wasn’t on my list. But it was something
I’d never done before. And I’d just gotten some shiny new wine glasses at
my party. I wrote it down so I could cross it out later, and then climbed out
of bed and filled up one of the glasses with vodka instead of wine. Cheers
to me.
Fine. Maybe I was a teensy little bit sad. But it was my divorce day. I
was happy to have finalized the divorce. Truly. And I was thrilled about my
new job. And that my stalker was being extra stalkery.
I just…I really hated Joe and Sierra. So much. I was only a little sad
because I’d wanted my marriage to work. Not that I wanted it to work out
with Joe. Commitment was a big deal for me. I never expected to make
such a terrible choice.
Happy divorce day. I took a big sip of vodka. And cheers to blacking out
for the first time ever. I loved crossing things off my list.
 Chapter 5 - A Million Dollars?!
Wednesday

Ow. I put a fresh ice pack on my head and sat back down on the couch. I
hadn’t blacked out like I’d planned. I remembered everything about last
night. Checking Sierra’s Instagram a dozen more times, trying to google my
protein predicament to no success, and researching rich people in NYC in
an attempt to find my stalker. Spoiler alert – I couldn’t find him. I also took
two more showers because…dumpster. I hadn’t even blacked out a little bit.
Which meant I couldn’t cross anything off my list.
And apparently now that I was almost 30, I couldn’t drink vodka out of a
wine glass at 3 in the morning and expect to feel okay when I woke up.
Getting old sucks.
Now I was nursing the worst hangover in the history of hangovers, while
also stressing out about my new job. I adjusted the ice on my forehead. I
didn’t know how to act at work. Or with coworkers. Or what to talk about at
a watercooler, if those were even still a thing. I hadn’t had a real job since
my freshman year of college when I worked at Sears. Ever since then, I’d
put every working hour into saving Joe’s family cupcake business. Until he
divorced me and took 100% of the business.
Stressing out probably made my headache worse. It was like a never-
ending cycle from hell.
I pulled my laptop onto my lap and squinted at the bright screen. I
needed a new wardrobe of work-appropriate clothing. Even though I didn’t
know how to behave at an office, I could at least look good trying. Maybe a
nice pair of slacks could be a conversation starter. I wanted to vomit at that
thought. Slacks and conversations both sucked balls. And now I was
starting to get sweaty just thinking about socializing.
I was officially spiraling. I slapped the side of my face. Focus, Ash.
Work-appropriate clothing. I googled it. Yep, I didn’t have anything
appropriate. It wasn't that all of my clothes were too slutty or anything, they
just weren't fancy enough for a major marketing firm. Yoga pants and T-
shirts were my thing. I was a workout aficionado now. And yoga pants were
also really comfortable for curling up on the couch while nursing a vicious
hangover.
My head hurt too much to sift through Amazon and determine what was
actually legit and what would arrive at my doorstep three months from now
looking like a twelve-year-old Thai girl had sewn arms onto a trash bag and
called it a "Women's Fashion Blazer." I’d try again tomorrow. I curled up in
a ball with my ice pack and promised myself I’d never drink vodka ever
again.

***

I was staring at my screen again the next morning, still trying to

determine what would come in time. And honestly…I had no idea. I just
needed to make a decision. But decisions were really hard to make
sometimes when you didn’t have a sounding board.
I eyed my phone. Chastity would love to help me with this. But I also
didn’t always trust Chastity’s fashion advice. She erred on the side of
promiscuous. I was pretty sure she was sleeping with someone at BIMG
and that was the only reason I’d gotten the job. You know, since I’d almost
peed my pants at the interview. I hadn’t even been smooth about it.
 This was a choice I’d have to make for myself. God, I’d rather die than
wear a blazer. But I still hit the “proceed to checkout” button on Amazon.
I’d be able to pay all this back as soon as I got my first paycheck. I cringed
as my mouse hovered over the “place your order” button. I couldn’t
procrastinate this huge decision any longer.
Wait. Wait. What if I went out to a work function at a fancy restaurant
like the one I went to with Matthew Caldwell and the unthinkable
happened? I couldn’t risk ever causing a second incident. And I couldn’t
afford to lose this job, because I was about to order a bunch of stupid
clothes I didn’t want. And Amazon was easy to order from, but it was very
hard to return things thanks to their insistence on using UPS for returns. I
only ever saw FedEx men for some reason. Maybe it was because they
wore bright colors. Either way, I wouldn’t be able to return anything I got
because it seemed too complicated. Which meant I couldn’t set any dicks
on fire anytime soon.
I quickly searched for mini fire extinguishers. Oh. My. God. Yes! They
had a portable one about the size of a can of Lysol. It even looked like a
spray can. Which was good, because I technically had no idea how to use a
fire extinguisher and this looked easy. I’d have to start carrying around a
huge purse to accommodate it. But I’d rather have back problems than light
another man’s junk on fire. Add to cart. Having something I actually
wanted in my cart made the whole process of actually clicking “place your
order” a lot easier.
Phew. I immediately felt the stress of indecision melt off my shoulders.
Maybe all the clothes would look terrible. But that was a problem for
another day. Besides, as a last resort I could go to a physical store with
actual humans in it. I laughed at the thought. Never. That’s what the internet
was for.
 My stomach growled. God, how long had I been sitting here? It felt like I
hadn’t eaten in years. And I definitely deserved some kind of culinary
reward after nursing a hangover for two days and online shopping for stupid
grown-up clothes. I put on my pants - shut up, you'd shop pantsless too if
you lived alone - and walked out of my apartment and down the rickety
stairs. The Panera across the street was calling to me.
I checked my mail on the way out. A money mailer, a Viagra
advertisement for the old dude who'd lived in my apartments years ago,
some circulars, an electric bill... There was a reason why I didn't check my
mail more often. None of it was ever exciting. My mom occasionally sent
me a greeting card and $10, but that was as good as it got. I was about to
close my mailbox when I noticed that I had missed something: a little black
envelope, just like the one at the party.
Come on, Liz. Yup, I’d decided that Liz was the mastermind behind the
envelope. It fit her MO perfectly. Not only was it weird and artsy, but it was
also a clever way for her cheap ass to avoid actually buying me anything.
Sending a second envelope was just overdoing it, though. I would have
much preferred if she had just like...I dunno, moved to California or
something. Now that would have been a gift worth getting excited about.
No matter how much Liz sucked, I was still curious to see what weird
shit she had come up with now. I assumed it would be a super lame play on
my wish, something like a drawing of shoes and an article about how
sinners burn in hell.
But what if this wasn't Liz's work after all? What if this had been
Madison's gift? In that case, the envelope would probably contain Joe's
severed penis. No…it was too flat for that. Joe was small, but not that
small.
 I tore through the golden wax seal and opened the envelope. Just like the
first one, it contained a single sheet of parchment. I unfolded it and read:

Welcome to the Society! Your wish has been received and is being
processed.
The Society thanks you for your security deposit of $1,000,000. This
deposit will be returned in full upon you leaving the Society, as per clause 6
of our terms and conditions.
Your first complimentary spa session will be Thursday, April 6 at 3 p.m.
at the Shifting Sands Spa.

That's today. More importantly, what the hell did I just read?
I definitely had not sent them a million dollars. Nor had I even mailed
my wish in the first place. But Chastity probably did. I rubbed my forehead.
I’d left the invitation at her apartment, right? It was hard to remember. I was
pretty sure I was still hungover from all that vodka that hadn’t quite gotten
me blackout drunk.
I took out my phone and called her. Twenty minutes later, we slid into a
booth together at Panera.
"Of course I mailed in your wish," said Chastity. "You think I’d let you
pass up the opportunity to join the Society? I mean…I’m assuming that
wasn’t a real invitation. But what if it was?!”
“I feel like you know more about the Society than you’re telling me.”
“Not a ton. I just know it’s the most exclusive club in the city. Only the
top 1% of 1% get invited. I’ve heard it costs a million dollars to join.”
I rolled my eyes. “Very funny. And do they also give their members free
spa sessions?” I pushed the letter across the table so she could read it, even
though I was now quite certain that she was the one who had written it in
the first place. How else would she have known about the astronomical
security deposit?
“Holy shit! They really sent you this? Where did you get the million
dollars to pay the entrance fee?”
I just stared at her. “I didn’t. I have zero money. You know this.”
“Weird. Maybe that’s how they get girls to join. Lure them in with the
promise of a million-dollar payout at the end… It’s actually quite clever.”
“Why would such a prestigious club need to lure women into joining?”
“Uh…” Her cheeks actually turned rosy. I’d never seen anything that
made Chastity blush.
This is bad. Really, really bad. “Spill it.”
She waved me off. “It’s probably not true. It’s better if you go in without
any preconceived notions.”
“Yeah. I don’t want to get my hopes up when this whole thing is clearly
just a charade you set up to trick me into getting some sort of erotic
massage.” I put massage in air quotes. Because I was pretty sure she was
trying to get me to do something illegal.
Chastity narrowed her eyes. “Wait, you really think I sent these letters?”
“I mean…you kind of gave it away when you knew about the million-
dollar buy-in.”
“I didn’t realize that was for real. It’s just what I’ve heard.”
“You swear it wasn’t you that made these letters?”
“Cross my heart and hope to die. I think you should just accept that it’s
real. Haven’t you ever seen those Hallmark movies where a girl makes a
wish and it comes true? Or the one where the two dudes pee into the
fountain and switch bodies? Maybe joining the Society is your pee
fountain!"
 "First, don’t ever use the words 'pee fountain' again.” I shivered just
thinking about almost peeing in a conference room at BIMG. “Second,
those are movies. Wishes don't just magically come true in real life. And
broke divorcées don’t get invited to secret clubs." This wasn’t real. It
couldn’t be.
Chastity took a loud sip of her chai latte.
"So what do you think?” I asked. “Is Liz behind this?”
Chastity sighed like I was exhausting her and pointed to the logo on the
broken wax seal. "I think you just need to accept that it's from a handsome
suitor with a magic lamp."
My stalker! I shook my head. In a city of millions, the chances were slim
to none. "Or a Nigerian Prince trying to scam me out of a million dollars.
And what makes you think that’s a magic lamp? It looks more like…” I
stared down at the strange symbol.

It could really have been anything. “A bird? An ancient Norse rune?

Two people banging?”
“It’s definitely a genie lamp,” said Chastity.
“I don’t know. That feels like a bit of a stretch.” I squinted and tilted my
head. “Ohhh, if you tilt it, it kind of looks like a dude in a wheelchair with a
really big foot.”
“So let me get this right. You think that the Society - a super-secret club
that grants its members wishes - made their logo be a dude in a wheelchair
rather than a genie lamp?”
 “You make a convincing argument. I’m still more concerned about who
invited me.” And if it was my stalker.
"There's really only one way to find out," said Chastity.
"Go to the FBI and let them dust these letters for fingerprints?"
"No!” She shoved the letter in front of me. “You have to go to that spa
appointment, Ash."
"I'd prefer not to get raped and murdered today, so I think I'll pass on
that." Not to mention that the thought of getting naked and being massaged
by a stranger was horrifying. I’d never been to a massage parlor before, but
it sounded like a place that perverts would like to frequent.
"Fine." Chastity snatched the letter off the table. "If you don’t go, then I
will."
"And get murdered? No.” What would I do without her? She was
literally the last person in my life that truly knew me.
“I’m sure the spa is perfectly legit. Here…look at the Yelp reviews.”
She handed me her phone and I scrolled through the reviews. There were
quite a few five-stars, but also some one-stars.
“Okay,” I said. “The general consensus is that the ambiance is lovely,
they'll try to up-sell us on bath salts, we won't understand a word they say,
and a certain masseur by the name of Hassan will go to town on our asses,
whether we want him to or not." Perverts.
"Oh, I like the sound of this Hassan." Chastity put her elbows on the
table and leaned in. "Does it have a picture of him? And when you say go to
town...do you mean massage? Or...?"
"I feel like the Hassan reviews were meant to be more cautionary than
enticing."
"So are you going to come, or am I going alone?” asked Chastity. “I'll
tell you what. If Hassan is there, I'll sacrifice myself to his wandering
hands."
"How noble of you."
We went back and forth for a while longer about the pros and cons of
going to the spa. Being the huge pushover that I was, I eventually caved and
agreed to go with her. What was I supposed to do when I grew up as the
middle child of four siblings? My older sister and brother were much more
vocal than me, and Rosalie had been the adorable baby. Which meant no
one ever cared what I wanted. It was annoying, yes. But it wasn’t all bad. I
had always been terrible at making decisions, so it worked out well that I
never had to.
In this case, though, maybe I wasn’t totally being a pushover. I needed to
keep Chastity safe. And fine, maybe a little part of me may have been
intrigued by the thought of some stranger grabbing my ass. But not really,
because…germs. Who knew where Hassan’s hands had been?
Oh God. Am I really going to do this?
I spent the next couple hours showing Chastity pictures of all the clothes
I'd ordered on Amazon, which she pretended to like, and then at 2:30 we set
out in search of the Shifting Sands Spa. Google Maps said it was only ten
minutes from my apartment, but I hated being late. If I had to make a list of
my greatest fears, being late would be at the top. Or maybe centipedes. Or
germs. No, definitely public speaking. Whatever, you get the point. Being
late was not an option.
 Chapter 6 - Handsy Hassan
Thursday

It was a good thing we left early, because this spa was not easy to find. As
we got closer, all the store signs changed from English to...I don't really
know what. Korean? Swahili? Arabic? Probably all three of those with ten
others mixed in. Street vendors held up various cooked meats and shouted
things at us. I wasn’t sure if the yelling or the combination of smells was
more disturbing. It reminded me of that time I tried to cook curry without a
recipe and nearly burnt my kitchen down. I’d never been to this part of
town before. And I was glad Chastity was with me.
Eventually we looked up a street view on our phones and tried to match
it to what we were seeing. The door that Google Maps pointed us to was
wedged between a Middle Eastern restaurant and some eye doctor's office.
The only marking on the door was a small yellow sign with Arabic writing.
"Are you sure you want to go in there?" I asked. I was all into trying
new things. But getting murdered wasn’t on my list. And I didn’t care what
the Yelp reviews said. This whole place was sketchy, not just Hassan.
Chastity didn't answer. She just opened the door and walked in.
She owes me big time for this one, I thought as I followed her through
the door and up a flight of stairs. I didn’t have my fire extinguisher yet, but
I did have mace. I rummaged around in my purse. Got it. We pushed
through a curtain of beads and suddenly it felt like we had been transported
to Morocco.
"Welcome to the Shifting Sands Spa," said an attractive middle-aged
woman standing behind the counter. At least, I thought that was what she
said. As promised in the Yelp reviews, her accent was so thick that it was
nearly impossible to understand. And based on the abundance of bath salts
displayed on the wall behind her, the bit about upselling us had been true as
well.
I just stared at the woman. Talking to strangers wasn't my strong suit.
My mom had done too good of a job teaching me about stranger danger.
But the woman didn’t seem dangerous. I dropped the mace back into my
purse.
"Hi," said Chastity. "We're here for our 3 o'clock massages."
The lady said something I didn't understand. I zoned out during the rest
of their conversation. Something about the sweet smell of cinnamon in the
air was very distracting. And soothing. God, I couldn’t remember the last
time I’d felt so relaxed. Eventually, Chastity reached into my purse and
fished out the black envelope. That got things moving in the right direction,
and a second later I had a clipboard in my hands with a release form.
"Fill this out," said Chastity.
"No. Only you," said the woman, pointing at Chastity.
Finally something I can understand. But why only Chastity? I needed a
form too. I wanted to tell them all about my Penicillin allergy and my
strong aversion to Hassan pounding my ass for 90 minutes.
"Why don't I get one of those?" I asked.
"No idea," said Chastity.
"Follow me," said the woman.
I looked to Chastity for help.
"Go ahead," she said. "I'll be right here the whole time. Well, not exactly
right here. I'll be in a room with Hassan. Apparently he had a last-minute
cancellation!" Her face lit up.
 "I wonder why." I would have said more, but the woman grabbed my
arm and pulled me through an archway into a tiled hallway. The rooms we
passed were all small but well decorated. The thought of having a stranger
massage my naked body in one of them made me sweat a moderate amount,
which was less than the buckets of sweat I would have expected my armpits
to be expelling in such a situation. Who could say why...maybe it was the
cinnamon in the air. Or my clinical strength antiperspirant. Ha, I wish. I
didn't have clinical strength antiperspirant. I'd always wanted it, but it was
too expensive, so I’d never taken the plunge.
I forgot all about my sweaty pits when we got to my room, though.
Because instead of being one of those tiny murder rooms, it was a massive
indoor pool surrounded by brightly colored arches.
Oh God. Are they going to make me get naked in a public bath? That hit
all my fears. Germs, public nudity (which was like public speaking only
even more mortifying)...there were probably even centipedes crawling
around the edges. And there were no clocks, so I could easily end up being
late for the next part of my appointment. See? All the fears. Kind of like all
the feels, only awful.
The woman started speaking again. I tried my best to listen, but it was
still unintelligible. After she left I decided that she had told me to get naked,
lie on the massage bed off to the side of the pool, and put a towel over my
ass. But who really knew. She could have just as easily told me to definitely
not get naked. Which would lead to a rather awkward encounter with the
masseuse. Or masseur. Oh God, what if Hassan sneaks in here and grabs
my ass?
Before I could change my mind, I stripped off my clothes, lay on the
massage table, and hid my entire body under the towel. Then I thought
twice and folded it down so that it only covered my ass. And then I
Another Random Scribd Document
with Unrelated Content
was now taking in the Mississippi River, and that this was the most
beautiful and attractive river scenery he had ever seen in his life;
and that it far surpassed anything they had seen in [pg 32] the old
world. I have had several similar statements of noted travelers,
enough, with what I have seen myself, to satisfy me of the
truthfulness of my claim. I have taken several acknowledged
eminent travelers to my first point of observation, (Healds Bluff) who
invariably, like myself, evidently, labored, and failed for language
adequately to express the overwhelming beauty and grandeur of this
valley scene. Now, if ours is not the veritable original Garden of
Eden, it is certainly easy of access, of increasing reputation and
importance as a summer resort, and open to investigation, and we
challenge the strictest inspection. Come and see! Come and see!

I am glad to learn from the Editor of the Independent that I am not

the first one who has “located the old Bible ground in the
Northwest;” would like very much to see the volume alluded to,
“written fifty years ago,” treating that subject. Perhaps we might
gain some information from one who had given it close intelligent
thought, as well as some very desirable information on this
somewhat mysterious subject. Mine was an entire new thought to
me, suggested by the actual sight, viewing the garden from a point
on the hanging garden, and studying it over and over during my
residence here of over thirty years. And despite of my natural
skepticism, I have become so impressed with the striking
resemblance or exact likeness of this, to the Bible garden, as
therein, described, and the immediate surroundings of this, to
Palestine, (the type of the surrounding or original habitation of man)
as to force me to admit the possibility, and to write out my [pg 33]
convictions for the benefit of some one better informed, and to
enable such a one to draw better conclusions.

When God formed the earth into a globe, and set it rolling to keep it
so, and started it in its orbit around the sun, and the light of the sun
first flashed upon it, producing the requisite light and motion, for
marking time, then, with half in light and half in shade, as round the
sun earth took its flight, time on earth began. The day, the month,
the year. Chronological time commenced on the first day at high 12,
and “The evening and the morning [ending on the second day at
high 12, one complete diurnal revolution of the earth] was the first
day.” And as man was the only intelligent being placed on earth,
capable of noting time, his residence was, evidently, on that central
line. Our “long” river and garden of Eden, is exactly there, on the
90th meridian of central time, as laid down on our present time table
maps for this continent.

As everything in creation was full and perfect, God wisely placed the
earth in the summer solstice point of its orbit, and this continent
facing the sun, so that when he placed man upon it, as to give him
the benefit of harvest, and correct time, and all of which is proved
by the change, God ordered, from original reckoning of time, when
Israel left Egypt, Ex. 12, 2, “This month [Abib, the 7th month] shall
be unto you the beginning of months, it shall be the first month of
the year to you.” Thus changing the beginning of the year from mid-
summer to mid-winter. The commencing of the reckoning of the day
[pg 34] has also been changed from mid-day to midnight. That the
original first month, now the 7th month, was harvest time, is proved
from Lev. 23, 9-39; and that the seasons, of summer and winter,
were then as now, is also proven by Gen. 1, 14, and the history of
the clothing of the first pair, first aprons, then skins and furs.

The names given to the rivers and places, in connection with the
original habitation of man, were naturally washed out by the flood,
or their recollection continued in names of similar places on the new
continent. Then, is it not somewhat remarkable that, our garden
valley is in the form of a beautiful dove, or bird of paradise; and so
grandly walled in as to appear as a single valley, and have a hanging
garden so situated that from its height, the whole valley, the rivers,
and “much water” all in plain sight.

Is it not a little strange that the Holy Land should be the counterpart
of the regions around our garden, only ours, geologically, a little
older, and at present, at least, vastly superior in productiveness and
desirability as a home; and that so many things, in connection with
and in addition to, the exact Bible description of the garden of Eden,
and of the Holy Land, point to this place as the original garden;
oldest, and best adapted place on earth for the commencement of
human existence, and from which naturally to branch out, filling the
Palestine around it; then, over the entire Eden as already described.
Let me once more call your attention to the region immediately
around our garden, of a section of which we have such a good [pg
35] view from this Heuston's Muff, of beautiful hills and valleys,
similar in appearance and extent, to the land of Palestine; which was
selected by the Creator as a representation of the habitation of man
on earth, in its pristine glory; a beau ideal of a country, a paradise; a
region of supreme felicity and delight; “A land flowing with milk and
honey;” which means susceptibility of the highest earthly
enjoyments, and figure of the world to come. Such a rough, youthful
country, is not naturally subject to cyclones, and disastrous storms,
“but of rains,” and “green pastures;” not a land of malaria, but a
land of health and happiness. Palestine was central to the habitable
part of the eastern continent, and was thus, in connection wilh its
other good qualities, selected for the residence of God's chosen
people, and contained many of the mountains on which God
appeared to man, a very interesting chapter in the history of that
country. Then, the central location of Jerusalem, “the city of the
great King;” “Beautiful for situation, the joy of the whole earth, is
Mount Zion;” in which was built the Holy Temple—of which God
himself was architect—with its Holy of Holies, where God met the
High priest, and kept up, though somewhat broken, yet, for long
periods, special communication with man, thus making it a holy and
God honored spot. There the Jews used to point to a stone, set as
they claimed, by some miraculous power, in the precise centre of the
world. But whether this was so or not, the city was for a long time
the centre of attraction of the world's commerce, and of the best
form of religion.

[pg 36]
“A land flowing with milk and honey.” Yes, and that we have the
place we hope to make appear by a few extracts from a speech
delivered by T. D. Lewis, before the Wisconsin Dairymen's
Association, at Arcadia, Trempealeau County, Wisconsin, February,
1885, published by the Dairymen's Association. Mr. Lewis, not
knowing of our garden and Palestine, spoke only in reference to
what is beginning to be recognized, and well known facts in relation
to the dairying interests of this region. Commencing on page 76: “As
good, natural grasses and plenty of the right kind of water are the
material requisites necessary to successful dairying or stock-growing
generally, I propose to discuss in a brief manner, and for the first
time, call the attention of the public to the peculiar quality of the soil
in this section, and its adaptability for successful grass growing,
especially clover, and of its action, through the grasses and water, in
producing a superior quality of butter. * * * * It is now, I believe,
generally conceded by all stock growers that there is no known plant
grown that requires so small an outlay of labor and expense
generally, and furnishes so great an amount of plant food of just the
right kind for producing the best butter, cheese, and good, quickly
fattened beef, as clover, where it can be grown with anything near
success. * * * * * * My attention was first attracted to this subject
some eight or ten years ago, by noticing spots along the roads
where clover had sprung up in small patches, in soil either wild, or
but, at the most, partially subdued. I observed that it [pg 37] grew
in the most luxuriant manner, and spread rapidly, did not winter kill;
in fact, looked just as if it had come to stay. I then began a thorough
examination of the soil that I have not yet entirely completed, but
have ascertained enough to warrant me in saying, that through the
agency of the decomposition of an ancient stratum of rock, of which
the most of our argillaceous clays are composed in this vicinity, I find
we have a soil peculiarly adapted to the growth of clover. * * * * * *
What were the reasons, do you suppose, why the Arcadia creamery
butter took the first, and the Alma creamery the second premium at
the fair held at St. Louis last fall? This was from butter made in
Arcadia the second, and in Alma the first season of their opperation.
You could not believe, for a moment, that the butter makers
employed in these two creameries were so much better than all the
others that exhibited butter at that time, that this was the cause of
obtaining the premiums? I find, also, that the Arcadia butter, when
placed upon the Elgin market of Illinois, is considered superior to the
other butter, in all the qualities that go to make up a first-class
article, and that is the largest butter market, outside of Chicago, in
the state. You would most certainly assign this cause to other and
more correct reasons, and, by an investigation into the facts, would
find it was produced through the effects of this peculiar chemical
material, in its action through the grasses and water of this region. *
* * *Any one looking on Prof. Owens' geological chart of his
government survey of [pg 38] this state and Minnesota, will see a
small area, colored and marked metamorphic shades. It is no great
extent of territory, includes this and Buffalo county, and a portion of
Jackson, and about us much in Minnesota. It has been badly cut up
through the agencies of erosion, corrosion, and denudation, and
probably one-fourth of this area is now composed of arenaceious
valleys, practically inexhaustible.” Clover fields, “flowing with milk
and honey,” how appropriate. A Wisconsin Dairyman took the first
premium on butter at the Worlds fair, at Philedelphia, in 1876; at the
World's Exposition at New Orleans, in 1880, in dairy products,
Wisconsin, Iowa and Minnesota stands at the head; and the head
centre of which, when once developed, is our palestine. In cheese
products, at New Orleans, out of 84 premiums, Wisconsin took 71,
amounting to $2,838. On butter, out of 69 premiums, Iowa,
Minnesota and Wisconsin took 54, amounting to $3,364, thus
leading the world.

Thus who can predict the future greatness of our garden, and the
region around it; naturally exempt from cyclone—which is beginning
to be one of the great terrors of man-kind—as it would require a
miracle to leap a cyclone from the top of our southwestern wall,
down 600 feet, on to the broad Mississippi river—and into a
decidedly different atmosphere, the reason already given—and keep
a whirling. Thirty years of observation has taught me, that small,
single storms pass around us, and larger ones, often, divide, and, no
matter how portentous they look, as did the one the other day—
since the St Cloud [pg 39] cyclone—which, at first sight, approaching
from the southwest, at the right time of day, and frightful blue black
color, made the timid ones tremble: but on approaching the garden,
it naturally divided, and passed around us, as usual; thus confirming
our statement.

Not being a believer in the speculative vague theories of modern

geologists, I shall leave the discussion of the geological age of our
garden to those wiseacres. But simply notice, that according to
standard authorities, our hanging garden contains the veritable
Potsdam sand stone of the primordial age. And my stone door step,
taken from another strata, is a mass of Molusk shells of the tribe of
Brachiopods—specimens of the earliest life on earth—the shells “less
in size than a finger nail;” (see Dana's geology page 81) related to
the modern Lingula; thus composing a Lingula flag, or Lingula
sandstone, of which mine is a slab over 5 feet long, 2 feet wide and
six inches thick, the finest specimen I have ever seen, and lies at my
front door, free for inspection.

Thus, on the oldest continent, with an overwhelmingly rich, great,

grand Eden; watered by the “Uphrates,” (long river) which, in itself,
is superlative; and which, with its tributaries, waters a superlatively
grand portion of the earth; and with its central garden, and
surpassingly grand hanging gardens, which overtop, and as
immeasurably transcend the hanging gardens of Babylon—which
tourists travel thousands of miles to see—as does the Niagra Falls, a
common creek mill pond, or as the works of nature transcend [pg
40] the works of art. And did not God know which was the longest
river on earth, and which, with its tributaries, watered the grandest
region of country on earth, Eden, when he said the garden was on
it?

When all these things shall be properly understood by the public,

who will not wish to come and see? Yes come and see!! “Be not
faithless, but believing,” come and see!! And now may the King
Eternal, banish the evil one from this place forever, and build his
promised “New Jerusalem” here, or to have an extensive one within
our Palestine.

ERRATA.

In preface, line 11, for antediluvians read postdiluvians.

On page 11, line 16, for 35 miles long etc., read 27 miles long and 9
miles through the centre; and the hanging garden in a similar form
and geometrical proportions, 3 miles long and 1 mile through the
centre.

On page 16, line 20, for is read and.

There are few minor mistakes which the reader can readily correct.
*** END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK FOUND AT LAST:
THE VERITABLE GARDEN OF EDEN ***

Updated editions will replace the previous one—the old editions

will be renamed.

Creating the works from print editions not protected by U.S.

copyright law means that no one owns a United States
copyright in these works, so the Foundation (and you!) can copy
and distribute it in the United States without permission and
without paying copyright royalties. Special rules, set forth in the
General Terms of Use part of this license, apply to copying and
distributing Project Gutenberg™ electronic works to protect the
PROJECT GUTENBERG™ concept and trademark. Project
Gutenberg is a registered trademark, and may not be used if
you charge for an eBook, except by following the terms of the
trademark license, including paying royalties for use of the
Project Gutenberg trademark. If you do not charge anything for
copies of this eBook, complying with the trademark license is
very easy. You may use this eBook for nearly any purpose such
as creation of derivative works, reports, performances and
research. Project Gutenberg eBooks may be modified and
printed and given away—you may do practically ANYTHING in
the United States with eBooks not protected by U.S. copyright
law. Redistribution is subject to the trademark license, especially
commercial redistribution.

START: FULL LICENSE

THE FULL PROJECT GUTENBERG LICENSE
 PLEASE READ THIS BEFORE YOU DISTRIBUTE OR USE THIS WORK

To protect the Project Gutenberg™ mission of promoting the

free distribution of electronic works, by using or distributing this
work (or any other work associated in any way with the phrase
“Project Gutenberg”), you agree to comply with all the terms of
the Full Project Gutenberg™ License available with this file or
online at www.gutenberg.org/license.

Section 1. General Terms of Use and

Redistributing Project Gutenberg™
electronic works
1.A. By reading or using any part of this Project Gutenberg™
electronic work, you indicate that you have read, understand,
agree to and accept all the terms of this license and intellectual
property (trademark/copyright) agreement. If you do not agree
to abide by all the terms of this agreement, you must cease
using and return or destroy all copies of Project Gutenberg™
electronic works in your possession. If you paid a fee for
obtaining a copy of or access to a Project Gutenberg™
electronic work and you do not agree to be bound by the terms
of this agreement, you may obtain a refund from the person or
entity to whom you paid the fee as set forth in paragraph 1.E.8.

1.B. “Project Gutenberg” is a registered trademark. It may only

be used on or associated in any way with an electronic work by
people who agree to be bound by the terms of this agreement.
There are a few things that you can do with most Project
Gutenberg™ electronic works even without complying with the
full terms of this agreement. See paragraph 1.C below. There
are a lot of things you can do with Project Gutenberg™
electronic works if you follow the terms of this agreement and
help preserve free future access to Project Gutenberg™
electronic works. See paragraph 1.E below.
1.C. The Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation (“the
Foundation” or PGLAF), owns a compilation copyright in the
collection of Project Gutenberg™ electronic works. Nearly all the
individual works in the collection are in the public domain in the
United States. If an individual work is unprotected by copyright
law in the United States and you are located in the United
States, we do not claim a right to prevent you from copying,
distributing, performing, displaying or creating derivative works
based on the work as long as all references to Project
Gutenberg are removed. Of course, we hope that you will
support the Project Gutenberg™ mission of promoting free
access to electronic works by freely sharing Project Gutenberg™
works in compliance with the terms of this agreement for
keeping the Project Gutenberg™ name associated with the
work. You can easily comply with the terms of this agreement
by keeping this work in the same format with its attached full
Project Gutenberg™ License when you share it without charge
with others.

1.D. The copyright laws of the place where you are located also
govern what you can do with this work. Copyright laws in most
countries are in a constant state of change. If you are outside
the United States, check the laws of your country in addition to
the terms of this agreement before downloading, copying,
displaying, performing, distributing or creating derivative works
based on this work or any other Project Gutenberg™ work. The
Foundation makes no representations concerning the copyright
status of any work in any country other than the United States.

1.E. Unless you have removed all references to Project

Gutenberg:

1.E.1. The following sentence, with active links to, or other

immediate access to, the full Project Gutenberg™ License must
appear prominently whenever any copy of a Project
Gutenberg™ work (any work on which the phrase “Project
Gutenberg” appears, or with which the phrase “Project
Gutenberg” is associated) is accessed, displayed, performed,
viewed, copied or distributed:

This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere in the United

States and most other parts of the world at no cost and
with almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it,
give it away or re-use it under the terms of the Project
Gutenberg License included with this eBook or online at
www.gutenberg.org. If you are not located in the United
States, you will have to check the laws of the country
where you are located before using this eBook.

1.E.2. If an individual Project Gutenberg™ electronic work is

derived from texts not protected by U.S. copyright law (does not
contain a notice indicating that it is posted with permission of
the copyright holder), the work can be copied and distributed to
anyone in the United States without paying any fees or charges.
If you are redistributing or providing access to a work with the
phrase “Project Gutenberg” associated with or appearing on the
work, you must comply either with the requirements of
paragraphs 1.E.1 through 1.E.7 or obtain permission for the use
of the work and the Project Gutenberg™ trademark as set forth
in paragraphs 1.E.8 or 1.E.9.

1.E.3. If an individual Project Gutenberg™ electronic work is

posted with the permission of the copyright holder, your use and
distribution must comply with both paragraphs 1.E.1 through
1.E.7 and any additional terms imposed by the copyright holder.
Additional terms will be linked to the Project Gutenberg™
License for all works posted with the permission of the copyright
holder found at the beginning of this work.

1.E.4. Do not unlink or detach or remove the full Project

Gutenberg™ License terms from this work, or any files
 containing a part of this work or any other work associated with
Project Gutenberg™.

1.E.5. Do not copy, display, perform, distribute or redistribute

this electronic work, or any part of this electronic work, without
prominently displaying the sentence set forth in paragraph 1.E.1
with active links or immediate access to the full terms of the
Project Gutenberg™ License.

1.E.6. You may convert to and distribute this work in any binary,
compressed, marked up, nonproprietary or proprietary form,
including any word processing or hypertext form. However, if
you provide access to or distribute copies of a Project
Gutenberg™ work in a format other than “Plain Vanilla ASCII” or
other format used in the official version posted on the official
Project Gutenberg™ website (www.gutenberg.org), you must,
at no additional cost, fee or expense to the user, provide a copy,
a means of exporting a copy, or a means of obtaining a copy
upon request, of the work in its original “Plain Vanilla ASCII” or
other form. Any alternate format must include the full Project
Gutenberg™ License as specified in paragraph 1.E.1.

1.E.7. Do not charge a fee for access to, viewing, displaying,

performing, copying or distributing any Project Gutenberg™
works unless you comply with paragraph 1.E.8 or 1.E.9.

1.E.8. You may charge a reasonable fee for copies of or

providing access to or distributing Project Gutenberg™
electronic works provided that:

• You pay a royalty fee of 20% of the gross profits you derive
from the use of Project Gutenberg™ works calculated using the
method you already use to calculate your applicable taxes. The
fee is owed to the owner of the Project Gutenberg™ trademark,
but he has agreed to donate royalties under this paragraph to
the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation. Royalty
 payments must be paid within 60 days following each date on
which you prepare (or are legally required to prepare) your
periodic tax returns. Royalty payments should be clearly marked
as such and sent to the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive
Foundation at the address specified in Section 4, “Information
about donations to the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive
Foundation.”

• You provide a full refund of any money paid by a user who

notifies you in writing (or by e-mail) within 30 days of receipt
that s/he does not agree to the terms of the full Project
Gutenberg™ License. You must require such a user to return or
destroy all copies of the works possessed in a physical medium
and discontinue all use of and all access to other copies of
Project Gutenberg™ works.

• You provide, in accordance with paragraph 1.F.3, a full refund of

any money paid for a work or a replacement copy, if a defect in
the electronic work is discovered and reported to you within 90
days of receipt of the work.

• You comply with all other terms of this agreement for free
distribution of Project Gutenberg™ works.

1.E.9. If you wish to charge a fee or distribute a Project

Gutenberg™ electronic work or group of works on different
terms than are set forth in this agreement, you must obtain
permission in writing from the Project Gutenberg Literary
Archive Foundation, the manager of the Project Gutenberg™
trademark. Contact the Foundation as set forth in Section 3
below.

1.F.

1.F.1. Project Gutenberg volunteers and employees expend

considerable effort to identify, do copyright research on,
transcribe and proofread works not protected by U.S. copyright
law in creating the Project Gutenberg™ collection. Despite these
efforts, Project Gutenberg™ electronic works, and the medium
on which they may be stored, may contain “Defects,” such as,
but not limited to, incomplete, inaccurate or corrupt data,
transcription errors, a copyright or other intellectual property
infringement, a defective or damaged disk or other medium, a
computer virus, or computer codes that damage or cannot be
read by your equipment.

1.F.2. LIMITED WARRANTY, DISCLAIMER OF DAMAGES - Except

for the “Right of Replacement or Refund” described in
paragraph 1.F.3, the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive
Foundation, the owner of the Project Gutenberg™ trademark,
and any other party distributing a Project Gutenberg™ electronic
work under this agreement, disclaim all liability to you for
damages, costs and expenses, including legal fees. YOU AGREE
THAT YOU HAVE NO REMEDIES FOR NEGLIGENCE, STRICT
LIABILITY, BREACH OF WARRANTY OR BREACH OF CONTRACT
EXCEPT THOSE PROVIDED IN PARAGRAPH 1.F.3. YOU AGREE
THAT THE FOUNDATION, THE TRADEMARK OWNER, AND ANY
DISTRIBUTOR UNDER THIS AGREEMENT WILL NOT BE LIABLE
TO YOU FOR ACTUAL, DIRECT, INDIRECT, CONSEQUENTIAL,
PUNITIVE OR INCIDENTAL DAMAGES EVEN IF YOU GIVE
NOTICE OF THE POSSIBILITY OF SUCH DAMAGE.

1.F.3. LIMITED RIGHT OF REPLACEMENT OR REFUND - If you

discover a defect in this electronic work within 90 days of
receiving it, you can receive a refund of the money (if any) you
paid for it by sending a written explanation to the person you
received the work from. If you received the work on a physical
medium, you must return the medium with your written
explanation. The person or entity that provided you with the
defective work may elect to provide a replacement copy in lieu
of a refund. If you received the work electronically, the person
or entity providing it to you may choose to give you a second
opportunity to receive the work electronically in lieu of a refund.
If the second copy is also defective, you may demand a refund
in writing without further opportunities to fix the problem.

1.F.4. Except for the limited right of replacement or refund set

forth in paragraph 1.F.3, this work is provided to you ‘AS-IS’,
WITH NO OTHER WARRANTIES OF ANY KIND, EXPRESS OR
IMPLIED, INCLUDING BUT NOT LIMITED TO WARRANTIES OF
MERCHANTABILITY OR FITNESS FOR ANY PURPOSE.

1.F.5. Some states do not allow disclaimers of certain implied

warranties or the exclusion or limitation of certain types of
damages. If any disclaimer or limitation set forth in this
agreement violates the law of the state applicable to this
agreement, the agreement shall be interpreted to make the
maximum disclaimer or limitation permitted by the applicable
state law. The invalidity or unenforceability of any provision of
this agreement shall not void the remaining provisions.

1.F.6. INDEMNITY - You agree to indemnify and hold the

Foundation, the trademark owner, any agent or employee of the
Foundation, anyone providing copies of Project Gutenberg™
electronic works in accordance with this agreement, and any
volunteers associated with the production, promotion and
distribution of Project Gutenberg™ electronic works, harmless
from all liability, costs and expenses, including legal fees, that
arise directly or indirectly from any of the following which you
do or cause to occur: (a) distribution of this or any Project
Gutenberg™ work, (b) alteration, modification, or additions or
deletions to any Project Gutenberg™ work, and (c) any Defect
you cause.

Section 2. Information about the Mission

of Project Gutenberg™
Project Gutenberg™ is synonymous with the free distribution of
electronic works in formats readable by the widest variety of
computers including obsolete, old, middle-aged and new
computers. It exists because of the efforts of hundreds of
volunteers and donations from people in all walks of life.

Volunteers and financial support to provide volunteers with the

assistance they need are critical to reaching Project
Gutenberg™’s goals and ensuring that the Project Gutenberg™
collection will remain freely available for generations to come. In
2001, the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation was
created to provide a secure and permanent future for Project
Gutenberg™ and future generations. To learn more about the
Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation and how your
efforts and donations can help, see Sections 3 and 4 and the
Foundation information page at www.gutenberg.org.

Section 3. Information about the Project

Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation
The Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation is a non-
profit 501(c)(3) educational corporation organized under the
laws of the state of Mississippi and granted tax exempt status
by the Internal Revenue Service. The Foundation’s EIN or
federal tax identification number is 64-6221541. Contributions
to the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation are tax
deductible to the full extent permitted by U.S. federal laws and
your state’s laws.

The Foundation’s business office is located at 809 North 1500

West, Salt Lake City, UT 84116, (801) 596-1887. Email contact
links and up to date contact information can be found at the
Foundation’s website and official page at
www.gutenberg.org/contact
 Section 4. Information about Donations to
the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive
Foundation
Project Gutenberg™ depends upon and cannot survive without
widespread public support and donations to carry out its mission
of increasing the number of public domain and licensed works
that can be freely distributed in machine-readable form
accessible by the widest array of equipment including outdated
equipment. Many small donations ($1 to $5,000) are particularly
important to maintaining tax exempt status with the IRS.

The Foundation is committed to complying with the laws

regulating charities and charitable donations in all 50 states of
the United States. Compliance requirements are not uniform
and it takes a considerable effort, much paperwork and many
fees to meet and keep up with these requirements. We do not
solicit donations in locations where we have not received written
confirmation of compliance. To SEND DONATIONS or determine
the status of compliance for any particular state visit
www.gutenberg.org/donate.

While we cannot and do not solicit contributions from states

where we have not met the solicitation requirements, we know
of no prohibition against accepting unsolicited donations from
donors in such states who approach us with offers to donate.

International donations are gratefully accepted, but we cannot

make any statements concerning tax treatment of donations
received from outside the United States. U.S. laws alone swamp
our small staff.

Please check the Project Gutenberg web pages for current

donation methods and addresses. Donations are accepted in a
number of other ways including checks, online payments and
credit card donations. To donate, please visit:
www.gutenberg.org/donate.

Section 5. General Information About

Project Gutenberg™ electronic works
Professor Michael S. Hart was the originator of the Project
Gutenberg™ concept of a library of electronic works that could
be freely shared with anyone. For forty years, he produced and
distributed Project Gutenberg™ eBooks with only a loose
network of volunteer support.

Project Gutenberg™ eBooks are often created from several

printed editions, all of which are confirmed as not protected by
copyright in the U.S. unless a copyright notice is included. Thus,
we do not necessarily keep eBooks in compliance with any
particular paper edition.

Most people start at our website which has the main PG search
facility: www.gutenberg.org.

This website includes information about Project Gutenberg™,

including how to make donations to the Project Gutenberg
Literary Archive Foundation, how to help produce our new
eBooks, and how to subscribe to our email newsletter to hear
about new eBooks.
Welcome to our website – the perfect destination for book lovers and
knowledge seekers. We believe that every book holds a new world,
offering opportunities for learning, discovery, and personal growth.
That’s why we are dedicated to bringing you a diverse collection of
books, ranging from classic literature and specialized publications to
self-development guides and children's books.

More than just a book-buying platform, we strive to be a bridge

connecting you with timeless cultural and intellectual values. With an
elegant, user-friendly interface and a smart search system, you can
quickly find the books that best suit your interests. Additionally,
our special promotions and home delivery services help you save time
and fully enjoy the joy of reading.

Join us on a journey of knowledge exploration, passion nurturing, and

personal growth every day!

ebookbell.com