1986 Rolls-Royce Camargue

A perfectly coiffed, perfectly manicured and perfectly maintained fortysomething woman whose name was Coco was saying, “I’m really, really sorry, Ms. Snow, but we’re going to have to revoke your membership.”

Molly sat quietly, in shock.  She’d thought to herself that it was strange to get a call from the Greenwood racquet club asking her to come in and talk to one of the supervisors, but to drop by just so they could kick her out?  It was so much like high school she felt on the verge of a flashback to the tennis team.  “I don’t understand.”

“It’s standard policy when there’s a complaint, especially one involving a minor.”  Coco folded her hands gravely.

“Now I really don’t understand.”

“There have been complaints about improper behavior between you and some of our younger guests,” Coco said.

“What kind of complaints?” Molly didn’t want her voice to go up, but couldn’t help it. 

Coco looked at the paper in front of her.  “Improper behavior, lewd conduct.  There have been several complaints that your behavior has been inappropriate toward some of the young men here.”

“What young men?”  She racked her brain, trying to think of anything she’d ever said to an underaged club member.  She couldn’t recall ever having spoken to any of the idiot teenagers at Greenwood during the three years she’d been a member here.

“I’m sorry, I’m not allowed to disclose the names of the complainants.  Please don’t assume this is a presumption of guilt.  Greenwood will not be pressing charges–“

“Pressing charges?”

Coco held up her hand.  “We will not be pursuing legal action of any kind.  This is a private club, and we’d rather avoid any scandal of any kind.”

“So you throw me out just on someone else’s say-so, and I don’t get to defend myself?”

Coco actually looked hurt.  “It’s not that simple, Ms. Snow.  The club bylaws clearly state–“

Molly stood up, because if she remained seated she was going to throw an obscene Italian hand gesture she’d learned from her uncle.  “Don’t bother explaining to me, Coco.  It’ll just make me angry.  Are there provisions for any kind of a private hearing, for me to defend myself to the club management?  I can’t recall ever having even spoken to any of Greenwood’s younger members, and this accusation is ridiculous.”

“I’m sorry–“

“Of course you are,” Molly said, and headed for the door.  She was hoping to clean out her locker and leave quietly, before Coco could decide that she needed to be escorted out by security.

She wasn’t quick enough.