Calamity Rayne: Gets A Life

by Lydia Michaels

  And that was just fine with me.

  Chapter Fifteen

  Big Shrimp

  “You’re never going to be able to do that all night.”

  Remington glared at me under his dark brows. “A Davenport can do anything for a night, and when we do, we do it well.”

  “If there’s some sort of innuendo buried in that comment, please refrain from making another one unless you want me to start spouting fortune cookie clichés again.”

  He rolled his eyes and hobbled on his crutches to the other end of the room, already winded.

  “I don’t understand why you won’t take the scooter.”

  “It’s undignified.”

  “No, it’s not. You have a broken foot.”

  “Eric!” He called, ignoring my valid point. Assistant number one appeared and Remington barked, “Go get me some water.”

  Eric disappeared, and I said, “You have water in your fridge.”

  “Marta just filled it. I want something cold.”

  God forbid we drink from the tap. “Maybe you should take a break.”

  “Maybe you should go find something to wear tonight.”

  I snorted. “To play cards with the crew? I think what I’m wearing is fine.”

  Working his way back to the other side of the room he mumbled, “You’re not playing cards with the crew. You’re attending the party with us.”

  “No, no, no. I have nothing to do with this party.”

  “You have something to do with me, so you’re going. It’s not up for debate.”

  “I have nothing to wear, Remington.”

  “Where the hell is he with my water?”

  Rolling my eyes, I uncapped a bottle from the fridge. “Here. A little tepid water won’t kill you.”

  He took a long sip and caught his breath. This shuffling around couldn’t be good for his heart, but he insisted on using crutches.

  “Seraphina has dresses in her closet. Get something from there.”

  “I’m not wearing your daughter’s clothes.”

  The bathing suit was one thing, but a dress was a different story. I’d probably end up spilling a blob of dip on the boob and ruining it. Plus, I wasn’t a fancy party kind of girl, so I planned on abusing the shit out of any excuse to get out of going to one.

  “Damn it, Meyers, if anything’s going to kill me it’ll be the tedious chore of bickering with you over putting on a dress. Act like a woman and wear something pretty.”

  I pursed my lips and mumbled, “You mean act like a woman and do what you say.”

  “That too. You do work for me, in case you’ve forgotten.” Eric returned with the water and Remington grumbled, “It’s about time. Forget it. Meyers already got me something to drink.”

  I earned a nice scowl for that. I smiled cheekily at Eric because I was seriously done with his moodiness. I wasn’t interested in whatever competition was between us.

  Eric left and Remington finally stopped and panted. His face was red and his hands were slightly trembling.

  I pushed a chair to his side. “Take a rest. You can try again once you catch your breath.”

  He sat, but it took a chunk of his pride. “You’re a pain in my ass.”

  “Then why do you keep me around? Eric could help you practice on the crutches.”

  He rolled his eyes. “You’re a little thing, but if I went down, my money’s on you getting me back up before him.”

  I laughed. “If you went down you’d probably take me with you. Then we’d both be screwed.”

  He chuckled and sank a bit more into the chair. He was done.

  “This is an important party tonight. It’ll do you well to meet the people there.”

  Seriously, it was like saying no to a toddler. “For all my political aspirations?”

  “You never know when you’ll need a favor.”

  And didn’t that just show how corrupt our government was? “I’m more of a survivalist by avoidance kind of gal.”

  “You’re going.”

  “Remington, I really think you’ll do fine with Hale and Eric.”

  “Eric isn’t going.”

  I scoffed. “Then why do I have to go?”

  “Because I want you there. Go for Hale, if you won’t go for me.”

  But Hale hadn’t asked me to go. I didn’t understand why it meant so much to Remington for me to be there, but knowing Eric wasn’t attending, I worried who would look after the stubborn jackass on crutches.

  “I’ll go if you bring the scooter—just in case.”

  “Women. There’s always a condition. Fine. I’ll bring the damn scooter, but I won’t need it. The crutches will be enough. Half the night we’ll be sitting at a table anyway.”

  Shit. I honestly didn’t expect him to agree that easily.

  Arching a brow, he said, “You better go look in the closets downstairs. The party’s at seven. We’ll be leaving at six.”

  I helped him to his bed because I saw he was hurting from that little bit of exercise. When men like Remington hurt, the rest of the world hurt, not because he bitched and moaned and lashed out like a high-strung Sally, but because men like Remington Davenport didn’t wear weak well. It wasn’t right seeing him feeble and frail, and I couldn’t wait until the day his strength returned.

  Lord only knew what that was like. I couldn’t imagine him more full-throttle.

  Once I had him settled, I took a detour to find Hale. He was working at the table on the upper deck and speaking on the phone. However, this time, things were different. The moment he saw me, he put the caller on hold and rose to greet me. “Hey, beautiful.”

  “Hey. Your father’s insisting on using the crutches tonight.”

  He rolled his eyes. “He’s a stubborn ass.”

  “He’s also insisting I go with him.”

  Hale’s brows shot up. “Is he?” He studied me for a moment. “You don’t want to go?”

  I shrugged. “Do you want me to go?”

  He smiled. “I’d love to have you there. I should have offered last night, but you distracted me.”

  I laughed. “Oh, I distracted you?”

  “You’re very distracting.”

  I gave him a shoulder bump. “So are you. I have to go find something to wear. Get back to your call.”

  He watched me, eyes heavy, as I walked away. It was rather nice having a man’s attention when you wanted it.

  Being that Seraphina owned her own clothing line, it was no surprise her closet was packed to the gills with dresses way too expensive for my wardrobe. Everything black was extremely low cut. I didn’t have the right bra for anything like that and going braless was something I never did in public.

  Okay, fine. Occasionally I put on a hoodie and went to the deli, but that was it, and no one knew about that but me.

  I picked three dresses and took them to my room. The first one was an absolute fail. I couldn’t even discern the neck hole from the arm hole, and there was no way I was getting it back on the hanger, so once I wrestled it off my body I folded it and gave it a threatening glare.

  The second one was okay, but I could see my bellybutton through the material. The last thing I wanted to do was appear in some upper-crust issue of fashion don’ts. Not that I was important enough to garner such attention, but who the hell knew how those things worked?

  The third dress was my last hope, and if that didn’t work, I was going to have to tell Remington he could leave the scooter home with me. It was a mulberry colored trumpet style gown with a high Grecian neckline. Sliding it over my head, I was surprised by how easily it fell into place. As I turned to the mirror, I was pleasantly pleased.

  Though I wouldn’t be able to wear a bra with it, or underwear for that matter, it didn’t look too bad. The panel over my chest left my shoulders exposed and had delicate beading that would compensate for my lack of jewelry and undergarments.

  Twisting my hair up, I clipped it on top of my head. If I pulled a few strands loose, I could pr
obably get away with no earrings. Best of all, it was long. Thank God, because while Seraphina’s feet were the same size as mine, all her fancy shoes had five-inch heels. Homey didn’t play that.

  I showered but didn’t wash my hair, hoping the humidity would give me a bit of extra body. My face had nice color from working outside, but I needed a little something. Digging in my purse, I found tinted lip balm. That was all the makeup I owned. I applied a little to my lips and the apples of my cheeks and that made a slight difference.

  Watching my time, I fussed with my hair until I was ready to shave it off. Using a hair tie and two clips, I managed a sloppy bun that looked purposely messy in a trendy sort of way—I hoped. And that was all she wrote.

  Slipping on my flip-flops, I left my room and saw Hale had already gone upstairs. Thank God, because I totally busted my ass going up the steps, collapsing like a drunken debutant who had no business attending a ball.

  “Stupid gown.” I never would have made it a day in Victorian times.

  When I reached the main floor, I spotted the boys on the back deck by the pool looking like a bunch of James Bond stunt doubles. Well, Hale did. Remington looked more appropriately fitted for a White House Correspondence dinner.

  Sliding open the glass door, I kicked the skirt of the gown out from around my ankles and tried not to trip again. Once it seemed all wardrobe malfunctions were under control, I turned and—

  “What?”

  Something was wrong. I inspected my dress from chest to butt, turning like a dog chasing its tail. Did I leave a tag on or something?

  I looked back at the men. “Is something wrong with what I’m wearing?”

  Remington’s face split with an approving grin and Hale walked to meet me at the door. “You look stunning,” he whispered, brushing a kiss on my cheek.

  “Oh. I thought I had a stain or something.” Relieved, I smiled, a touch nervous he’d just kissed me in front of Remington. “You two look rather dashing as well.”

  Then our surroundings registered and I truly smiled. “Land!”

  Hale laughed and Remington rolled his eyes. “You’d think she was castaway for years.”

  “Where are we?”

  “Savannah,” Hale answered, taking my arm.

  “Georgia? I’ve never been before.”

  “It’s one of my favorite places. Come on, we should be going.”

  I held back, making sure Remington was okay to stand. Once he did, we slowly made our way to the dock. Hale was truly wonderful with his father, so patient and helpful as he worked his way down the stairs and over the planks of the dock.

  Once we were in the limo, I handed Remington a bottle of water. He nodded his appreciation and took a sip.

  “Thank you, sweetheart.”

  I stilled but quickly recovered. Sweetheart? That was new. Usually, I just got Meyers. We seemed to have skipped right over my first name and jumped straight into terms of endearment.

  “Did you hold up your end of the bargain?”

  “Scooter’s in the trunk,” he muttered, twisting the cap back in place.

  I anxiously bobbed my leg, scoping out the limo. Hale lifted the hem of my dress and raised a brow at my flip-flops.

  I shrugged. “Your sister’s shoes were too tall.”

  He let the dress fall back in place and smirked.

  After several minutes on the road, Remington’s breathing settled, and I relaxed. “So how far away is this shindig? And do I need to know anything before we get there?”

  “We should be there in about thirty minutes if we don’t hit traffic.” As far as my other question went, Remington didn’t seem too concerned. “Just be polite and keep the conversation away from religion and politics.”

  I frowned. “But isn’t this a political dinner?”

  “What are your thoughts on government funded healthcare?”

  “Pft, we’re behind. Europe’s had it in play for years and their people live four years longer than the average American.”

  Hale chuckled and Remington arched a brow. “That’s why you steer clear of the political issues. Wes is a member of the Tea Party.”

  “Oh.” I should have figured that. Remington was definitely a conservative and among the top one percent. I just wanted everyone to get along. “Well, I’ll keep an open mind and your friend Wes can do his best to earn my vote.”

  My mom had a saying about politics and religion. Her theory was both topics were like a penis. It was okay to have one, but it was impolite to whip it out in mixed company or try to cram it down someone’s throat. I agreed.

  I’d been expecting some sort of hall, but we arrived at a house. Well, not a house, more like a mansion. An enormous fountain filled the circle drive as a line of sleek limos snaked their way around the property.

  “Wow. Someone lives here?”

  “Yes, but they’ve asked to remain anonymous.”

  My jaw dropped as I grinned at Remington. “Oh, you have to tell me who it is. Please.”

  He shook his head and the next ten minutes passed in a guessing game.

  “Oprah?”

  “No.”

  “Madonna?”

  “No.”

  “Bono?”

  “Give it a rest, Meyers.”

  I took Hale’s arm and whispered, “Do you know who owns the house?”

  He shook his head.

  I gave up my guessing game as we entered the foyer. You could easily fit five SUVs in that room alone. Holy crap. This was some seriously posh shit.

  Taking it slow for Remington’s benefit, we went straight to the ballroom. Yes, a freaking ballroom—in a house. This was nicer than any wedding I’d ever attended.

  As far as parties went, my family was the average plastic tablecloth type, with balloon accents and plastic forks. The only plastic at this party came in the form of American Express cards.

  “Dad, they have us sitting over here.”

  Remington was already getting winded, so I kept to his side as Hale led the way. He whispered names and facts in my ear as we passed some of the finest dressed people I’d ever set eyes on. I found his clipped bios amusing and kept a pert smile on my mouth all the way to our table.

  “That’s Aberdeen Virden. Wealthiest woman in the room tonight. Six husbands in the coal industry. The one thing you can count on with coal, Meyers, is that if you’re around it long enough, it’ll kill you. She shops where the turnover rates are best.”

  Old Aberdeen didn’t look like she had any more honeymoons left in her, but she sure hoisted those diamond rings around easy enough for a woman in her eighties.

  “That’s Lance Jacobi. Slimy little shit. Never trust him.”

  “Noted.” Not that I’d be interacting with any of these people, but it was good to know when I needed to watch my six.

  Once we were seated, Hale tucked his father’s crutches against a nearby wall. Remington seemed relieved to have any signs of his injuries out of sight. However, when the fifth person stopped by our table to offer condolences about Remington’s “spill” he grew irritated.

  “How are you, Remington?” another thirty-something bombshell asked, caressing the sleeve of his tux.

  My nose crinkled, as I struggled to see the sexual appeal. Remington was great, but I’d never see him in a carnal way. What did this woman have in common with him anyway?

  “I’m fine. How’s that column of yours? Have you arranged an interview with Wes?” Remington responded, strategically shifting the attention away from him.

  The woman leaned closer, blatantly flirting. “I’d much rather have a few private minutes of your time. What do you say we steal away after the speeches and you can tell me all about that new deal you’re working on?”

  Oh, come on!

  Thankfully, Remington blew her off with practiced finesse. “I’ll have my people get in touch with yours after I read your column next week, highlighting how qualified our presumptive nominee is.”

  It was fascinating watching Remin
gton manipulate others with such ease. He never gave anything without getting a promise of something in return. Yet somehow he managed this without ever having to verbally ask for a favor.

  “Deal,” the woman agreed, apparently satisfied.

  Another woman appeared and helped herself to Hale’s vacant seat. “Remington, you look well. I was worried when I heard the news.”

  He nodded, but that was all he apparently intended to comment on the subject. “Meyers, this is Eloise Clark, daughter of Donald Clark. Eloise, this is Rayne Meyers.”

  “Are you two an item?” the woman asked.

  Talk about cutting to the issues. “I work for Remington.”

  She laughed and patted my arm as if we shared a special joke, but nothing I said was particularly funny. “Don’t we all?” She preened, winking at Remington.

  I laughed nervously. Did she work for him or not? I was confused.

  “Remington,” a male voice greeted. “I’m glad you made it.”

  Startled to feel Remington lifting to his feet, I shot out of my chair and casually held out my arm. What the hell was he doing, standing without his crutches?

  “Wes, great to see you.” Ah, so this was the man of the hour.

  “Please, don’t rise on my account.” Thankfully, Remington returned to his seat. “And who is your lovely guest?”

  I flushed and grinned because I might be meeting the future president. Remington noted my star struck eagerness for an introduction, rolled his eyes and muttered, “For God’s sake.”

  Recalling that my behavior was a reflection of the Davenports, I pulled my act together and held out a hand. “It’s a pleasure to meet you, Mr. Sterling.”

  “I assure you, the pleasure’s mine.”

  Well, wasn’t he fancy? I smiled and did a little curtsy. “This is quite an event.”

  He nodded, still holding onto my hand. “I owe it all to Remington.”

  Glancing over my shoulder I gave my boss a smile, but my pride plummeted when I saw Hale approaching. He didn’t look happy.

  He was gone for five minutes. Could something have happened that quickly? Drama, drama, drama. It didn’t matter what side of the tracks the celebration was on, drama crashed every party.