Amy Leigh cleared her throat. “Can I have that other one?”
“Which one?” Trent asked flipping through them.
“The one I took of you. There that one,” she said pointing. “If I’m your wife, it’s only natural I have a picture of you. Oh, and send me one of us getting married too.”
She watched his finger move over his phone’s screen. “While you’re at it, can you erase the one of me naked? You don’t need that one. I look fat.”
“Nope.”
Chapter Six
The clinking of the silverware against plates accompanied the occasional sound of ice against the sides of glasses during dinner at his parents the next day.
His mother’s eyes moved from Trent’s face to his father’s, then to the ceiling. “Trent, honey, aren’t you going to tell us about your...er… wife? When do we meet her?”
It was comical to watch his father open his mouth to speak and his mother shoot him a warning glare. He reached for his glass of wine instead and both parents looked to him.
“Well, she’s very different from the women I’ve dated in my past.” A picture of Amy Leigh the day before in her low-slung jeans and sparkling toe polish came to mind. “She’s down to earth. I can talk to her for a long time and still feel as if I could say so much more.”
“That’s sweet,” his mother said leaning forward. “Of course you explained the wedding was impulsive, which doesn’t sound a bit like you. What does her family think of all this?”
He’d not considered asking Amy Leigh about her family’s reactions. Her mother had called during their meeting and from Amy Leigh’s side of the conversation, her mom seemed as perplexed as his parents. “They seem to be adjusting to the idea. I haven’t met them yet.”
“Why would you?” His father finally spoke, ensuring every word dripped with sarcasm. “I’m sure they’ll not have a problem with their daughter from...Sweetgum, was it, marrying you. After all she married the heir of Mulherin Industries.”
“Honey.” His mother reached for her husband’s hand and covered it with hers. “Let’s give Amy Lynn a chance before we rush to conclusions.”
“Amy Leigh,” Trent corrected and reached for his glass of wine, downing every bit. “Mother, I think you’ll like her, she reminds me a lot of you in some ways.”
“I’m sure I will, sweetheart.”
His father snorted. “I’m sure she’ll be on her best behavior. Of course she’ll be prepared. I’m not sure it’s a good idea to bring her around just yet.”
“Trevor enough.”
Trent pushed from the table and stood. “No, that’s fine, Dad, just tell us how you really feel. After all, why would anyone want to marry me based solely on who I am? The only substantial thing I have to offer is money. Right?”
“I didn’t say that.”
“Yes, Dad. That’s all you’ve ever said, no matter who I date. The only person you have ever approved is Miranda, and that is only because her father is richer than you.”
“Trent, that’s enough.” His father rose as well, leaving his mother to crane her neck to look from one to the other. “Your grandfather worked his entire life to build the company. Mulherin Industries will be yours one day. It’s what you’ve been raised to do. Do you understand that we could lose a large amount of it because you were stupid enough to marry without a prenuptial agreement?”
“I’ll get the damn thing signed.” The urge to turn and leave the room made Trent take a step back from his father.
“An annulment would be a better option. Cleaner.”
“Please, both of you stop.” His mother refilled her wine glass and shook her head. “Trent, please get the pre-nup signed, and Trevor give your son the benefit of the doubt. We both know he’s an astute businessman and if he loves this girl, then I’m sure she’s perfect. It makes me sad that what should be a happy occasion is tearing you two apart.” She sniffed into her wine glass.
“I’m sorry dear, don’t fret.” Trevor Mulherin’s change of demeanor was quick at the sight of his wife’s distress. He placed his arm around her shoulders, pulling her against his side. “I know Trent will take care of this. I am just concerned. It is a happy occasion.” His father did not sound one bit convincing at the last words.
Both his mother and father looked to him with a mixture of hope and expectancy. Trent exhaled and nodded. “There is absolutely nothing to worry about. Amy Leigh is a great person. As far as the pre-nup, she won’t have a problem signing it.” He hoped.
Chapter Seven
“He what?” Amy Leigh’s mother, Jane Paisley, teetered in her four-inch heels, her caftan blowing behind her in the breeze. “You’re married to someone that wants you to sign a prenuption agreement?”
“Prenuptial, Mom,” Amy Leigh corrected. She was tanning on a lounger on her mother’s back deck. “Yes, I suppose that’s only natural since we got married so suddenly and all.” She’d already regretted telling her mother about Trent. Unfortunately, any choice was taken since that damn Coy spread the news all over town. She should have followed her first instinct and lied. Why hadn’t she told everyone it was a misunderstanding and Coy heard wrong? “Anyway, he just emailed it to me. I’m going to print it out when I get home.”
“Something’s fishy here,” her mother said, narrowed eyes boring into Amy Leigh. “Why haven’t I heard of this man you married? Where did he pop out of all of a sudden?”
Amy Leigh’s cell phone buzzed for what seemed to be the millionth time saving her from having to answer the question. This time it was a text from one of her friends. “Don’t forget Margarita Thursday. Come prepared to give us the full scoop.” Amy Leigh rolled her eyes. The happy trio who’d abandoned her in Vegas were to blame for all of this.
The roar of the blender rattled until the ice was crushed, then quieted to a hum. Her mom kept her eyes on the green concoction. “Must be a rich man if he’s worried about you taking his money.”
Amy Leigh shrugged. “I don’t know if he’s rich, we never discussed money. It’s tacky, Mama. I was watching Divorce Court the other day. Everyone gets them nowadays. The man on the show got one to keep his wife from taking his collection of false teeth.”
“Ewww,” Jane said shivering. “That’s gross.”
“They were worth a lot of money. Some of them were wood and stuff.”
They quieted when Jane poured the margaritas, and then handed one to her. “We need to have a party. We can have it here and get Pablo’s to cater it. He told me a cousin of his used to be in a Marichacha band and all.” She spread her arms motioning to her manicured back yard. “I can see it now, a colorful theme with bright lanterns and cactus centerpieces. It would be nice to have Mexican food and margaritas don’t you think? Marichacha music in the background.”
“Mariachi,” Amy Leigh corrected absently. “I don’t want a wedding party, Mama. That’s why Trent and I got married in Vegas to avoid the hoopla.”
Her mother’s mouth fell open and she stared at her like she’d grown a horn between the eyes. “What the hell is wrong with you? You’re a Paisley. Every single Paisley loves parties. Hell you’re a party planner, for chrissakes. You can plan a party with your eyes closed and now you decide you don’t like them?”
Her mother was right. There was little she loved more than music, dancing, and the loud voices of a party. It was going be difficult to keep her mother from meddling in this affair. A thought struck her. “Mama, why don’t we wait and plan a party this summer. Trent’s mother wants to plan an intimate wedding party for their friends and family. You can help with that. It’s going to be in Charleston. Then after our honeymoon, we can have a second wedding party here and invite folks from Sweetgum.”
“Well...” She held her breath while her mother took a sip from her margarita and tapped her chin with her index finger. “I suppose that will give Pablo time to get the Marichacha together.”
“Of course. And you can make your famous margaritas by the bucketful!” Amy
Leigh exclaimed with overdone enthusiasm.
“I don’t make my margaritas just for anybody, you know that. The ingredients are expensive if they are to be done right. I gotta go to the frozen section at IGA to get the secret ingredient. Should start stockpiling for the wedding party.”
“Mama, frozen limeade is not a secret ingredient.” Amy Leigh laughed. She attempted to take a sip from her truly delicious drink but her mother grabbed her arm with surprising strength and pulled it down.
“Who’d you tell?”
“What?”
“Who did you tell what my secret ingredient is?”
“Ouch, Mama.” Amy Leigh pulled her arm free. “I haven’t told anyone, I figure everyone makes margaritas with frozen limeade.”
She fought the urge to laugh when her mother hunched her shoulders and lowered her voice, her eyes flitting around the yard as if she expected someone to pounce out of the bushes. “They don’t, Amy Leigh. They use the premix or the frozen margarita mix. Nobody knows about my secret ingredient.”
“Oooookaaay,” Amy replied. “I won’t tell a soul.”
“See that you don’t,” Jane told her and sat on the lounger next to hers. “Not even that new husband of yours or his mama.”
“I’m taking time away from the shop and going to Charleston on Wednesday. Can you cover for me?”
Her mother eyed her for a moment. “I suppose you’re planning to move away to Charleston sooner or later, so I may as well get used to you spending time there.”
“Let’s play that by ear, Mama. I don’t plan on moving anytime soon.”
“Why in heavens not? You’re married. Doesn’t your husband expect consumption of the marriage vows?”
“Consummation...oh, never mind. We already did that.” Her mother’s eyebrows rose as she took a large swallow. “He must be terrible in bed if you’re not in a hurry to move. That sucks for you, baby.”
“Mama!” Amy Leigh screeched but couldn’t help laughing. She continued laughing until tears ran down her cheeks.
“There is something strange about all this,” Jane Paisley mumbled.
Amy Leigh burst out with a new round of guffaws. “Ain’t that the truth.”
“Enough. Amy Leigh, for goodness sakes, you’re not acting natural.” Her mother’s lips quivered as she tried to stop from smiling. “Don’t do it.”
The words made her sober and Amy Leigh frowned at her mother. “Don’t do what?”
“Sign that prenatural agreement. I don’t think you should sign it.”
“Pre what? Oh that, of course I’ll sign it, Mama. I don’t want any of Trent’s money.”
The wind picked up and Amy Leigh watched her mother’s pool float glide across the above ground pool until hitting the side while her mother swirled her straw around her glass. “You’re not a gold digger or nothing, but if he’s got a lot of money then you need to get some sort of legal help to read the paper before you sign it. Just to cover your own asserts.”
“Assets? Which I have none of, Mama.” Amy Leigh leaned back in the chair. “Let’s talk about something else. Where’s Tater?” She looked around for her mother’s little brown mutt.
“It’s his day at the doggie spa. Tater rolled in something really stinky, so he’s going to be there for a couple extra hours. Your Aunt Ruby said she’d pick him up on the way from her hair appointment today.”
“Poor Tater, he hates the groomers.”
“What are you taking to wear to see your new in-laws?” Her mother changed the subject back to her marriage.
Amy Leigh’s stomach tightened. “I have no idea. Lord, I better plan a quick shopping trip to Atlanta.”
“You need to dress to impress, so they don’t suspect.”
“What?”
“You know that you’re not signing until we know how much money is involved.”
“We?”
“That’s right, honey, you’re not alone in this.” Her mother tapped her shoulder and stood. “The lasagna should be done. Come on, let’s go inside. Now tell me again, how is it that you met a man without me or anyone in Sweetgum finding out? Is he real or are you making him up cause your cousin Brinn got married again?”
Shoulders slumped she followed her mother inside.
Chapter Eight
The following Wednesday, Amy Leigh found herself in Trent’s condo in a high scale part of Columbia, South Carolina. The impressive gated community with a guard at a huge iron gate screamed money. For a bachelor, he had a lot of stuff. Amy Leigh picked one of the pillows off the couch and wondered what possessed him to buy such an ugly thing. The color was something between dirt brown and green puke, with an angry slash of what could be described as neon blue across it. After surmising the size of Trent’s condo was bigger than her and her mother’s homes combined, the second surprise was how much time he must have taken to shop and fill it with furnishings and décor.
Trent came into the room with two glasses of Coke and eyed the pillow. “My girlfriend helped me decorate. Her tastes seem to run more toward the eclectic.”
Ya think? Wait girlfriend? She looked to a grouping of pictures on the wall over the couch. It was a collage of spots and cloud shapes. Amy Leigh turned her head sideways and spotted what looked like Santa in one of the clouds. Cute Santa, but too bad he was poop green to match the pillow.
“Well, the view of the pool is great.” She stood next to her tall husband and took the glass he held out for her. He faced the wide span of windows that made up a wall of his living room. “Have you lived here long? Is your girlfriend freaked out that you married me?”“I bought this place a year ago. I haven’t told you, but you look very nice today.” His gaze heated a trail down her body and back to her face.
“Oh.” She wanted to say something smart, at the fact that he dodged the girlfriend question. “Thanks, I got this on sale.” Not exactly the reply she had in mind, but in her defense, he rattled her brain.
Thankfully Trent smiled not noticing her lack of brainpower. “The color suits you perfectly.” His hand reached for her face. Amy Leigh held her breath. Her mind began to curse her choice of a pencil skirt and button up blouse. If things progressed further past a kiss, the outfit would be hell to take off. It could be removed of course, but all the stupid buttons could be a passion killer. Of course she didn’t have to sleep with him just because he touched her face. But she wanted to.
Amy Leigh smiled to encourage him to hurry it up and finally his hand cupped her cheek. And then he leaned.
Ding!
The bell from hell shattered the moment. His eyes not leaving hers, Trent straightened and shook his head seeming to clear away the cloud that made him want to kiss her. “I better see who that is.”
Whoever it was, the damn kiss stealer kept Trent at the door longer than it should’ve taken to sign for a package or pay for a pizza. Amy Leigh edged closer toward the entryway, but all she heard was Trent’s soft, low rumble. He seemed to be explaining something.
“I can’t believe you expect me to just step back and ignore this!” A woman’s shrill voice was much clearer than his. He needed to learn from her how to project his voice. “Is she here?”
Mumble. Mumble.
“I’m not going to make a scene, Trent, but I need to see the conniving woman who somehow duped you into this situation.”
What? Amy Leigh also wanted to meet whoever the woman was. Not only did she interrupt the kiss, but also she called her conniving. Amy Leigh’s eyes widened at the realization. It had to be the girlfriend. Her stomach tightened and she scanned the room for the best place to stand when the girlfriend entered.
“Honestly, Trent, why you haven’t reported this to the police and had her thrown in jail is beyond me.” The girlfriend was on the move. Her heels clacked noisily on the tile floor. Amy Leigh looked toward where she expected the guestroom was. Maybe it was best to hide in the bathroom until the angry girlfriend left.
A skinny tall blonde rounded the corner and stopped. Ne
ither of them spoke, each accessing the other. For one thing it was hard for Amy Leigh to take in all the perfection of the woman. Her type, aka Barbie doll, took time to access. Pretty… check. Big boobs…check. Small waist…check. No panty lines…check. Long legs…check. Shoes that were not marked down, and clothes purchased in a place without shopping carts…check.
The Barbie girl narrowed her eyes and made a quick assessment of Amy Leigh’s clothes and rolled her eyes. She swung to Trent who stood stock still, like someone playing freeze tag and still managed look sexy as hell. “Seriously, Trent?”
“What is that supposed to mean?” Amy Leigh asked them. She wasn’t sure which of them could answer her question in a way that wouldn’t make her drop a couple of F-bombs.
Barbie ignored her. “Just tell your mother it was a mistake and you married me.” The girlfriend told Trent in a slow tone as if Trent were a five year old.
“You look nothing alike.” Her hero of a husband explained the obvious. “My mother has a picture of Amy Leigh and me.”
“Amy Leigh?” Barbie screeched pronouncing her name “Aymeelee.” Definitely a southerner from her accent.
“Yes.” Trent held his hand out like Vanna White presenting a grand prize. Amy Leigh did her best impersonation of the deal of the day while the blonde glared at her.
“So what the fuck am I supposed to do while you attempt to pull off this farce?” Barbie’s eyes narrowed, her nostrils flared and waves of red crept from her neck to her face. The shade didn’t go well with the obviously super expensive lavender dress.
Amy Leigh gaped at the woman not believing she got to drop an F-bomb first. “Look, we are only going to be married for a few months and then this will be over. You two can go back to whatever it is you rich people do,” she explained only to earn a double gawk.
Contemporary Nights Volume One Page 18