Crazy Love

by Michelle Pace

  “Nope. Sorry.”

  “Damn.”

  Our food arrived, but I noticed my appetite had vanished. I could hear Sam’s friend exclaim, and I peeked over my shoulder at them. Sam gesticulated with his hands as he spoke, and his friend seemed to listen with surprise and fascination. As Sam continued, the man continued to nod emphatically. Sam lifted his drink to his lips and glanced in my direction. I whipped around and practically ducked down in the booth on instinct.

  “Smooth, Annie.” Jayse snorted and tossed some cash on the table and stood. “Stop drooling over your boyfriend’s brother and eat something. I’m running to that shoe shop next door. I’ll be back in five.”

  Panicked at being abandoned in the same vicinity as my attractive nemesis, I hissed Jayse’s name. He pretended not to hear me and sashayed out the door. I took a few cleansing breathes, trying to push my bathtub wet dream out of my mind. The way Sam had stared at me in Trip’s studio last week, like I had nothing on at all, still had me tossing and turning. I shook my head at my own craziness, then cut my burger in half and took a bite. It was so good, I took an even bigger bite, and that’s when I saw Sam’s friend pass by my booth. He cast me a curious glance and then beamed at me. As I watched him head into the men’s room, I felt my shoulders tense as I waited for Sam to pass by. I just wanted to avoid another awkward confrontation. Trying to look deeply involved in my food, I reached for the condiments. The top of the ketchup bottle popped off, dumping its entire contents on my plate. I swore around my half chewed beef and grabbed a handful of napkins just as Sam slid into the seat across from me.

  “Big ketchup fan?” His greeting sounded playful, but his posture was as uptight as they come. I choked down my oversized mouthful and washed it down with a drink.

  “Hello, Sam. What brings you to B&D’s? Slumming?”

  He scoffed at my suggestion. “This happens to be my favorite restaurant. What about you? Hot date?” His jaw muscles worked overtime. I felt the sides of my mouth twitch at the thought.

  “You could call it that.” My obvious amusement seemed to infuriate him, but he somehow managed to stuff it all back inside, as always.

  “I thought you were with Trip. What’s with the blonde dude?” He deadpanned, almost sounding carefree and curious. Almost. I toyed with my straw and took another drink.

  “Who? Jayse?” I smiled naughtily, enjoying that someone as intelligent as Sam could be so imperceptive.

  “Are you a couple?”

  I started giggling, which quickly progressed into a full throated chuckle. “A couple of what?”

  Sam’s expression remained unchanged, but his entire face turned scarlet.

  “I’ll take that as a no. So why’s this guy giving me dirty looks?” Sam continued when my laughter died down. I started cackling again because Jayse had most assuredly been giving him dirty looks, but not in the way Sam meant. Sam rolled his eyes, but he seemed mildly entertained by my reaction. It was at that moment that Jayse reappeared beside the booth.

  “Sam, this is my roommate, Jayse.” I managed, attempting to conceal my amusement.

  “Hello.” Sam began in an oh-so-Sam-like way. All polite and guarded and scrumptiously southern.

  “Charmed, I’m sure.” Jayse’s effeminate lilt caused Sam’s eyes to widen in surprise. Jayse turned back to me with jazz hands. He was so excited he practically sang his words. “Guess what I found? Beige ‘fuck me’ pumps!”

  He placed his hands on his hips as if waiting for the accolades.

  “Yay! How much?” I reached for my wallet.

  “Eighty.” He replied and I winced, pulling out a 100 dollar bill which I handed to him. He waved it in the air and practically skipped out the door.

  “I see.” Sam stammered, looking after Jayse with shocked awe, as if he were some mythical beast. I simply nodded, relishing the humiliated expression he wore. “Listen. I think we got off on the wrong foot.”

  “Which time?” My retort tasted overly harsh, but I held his gaze anyway. I’d moved beyond his “daddy issues” comment, but I’d be damned if I was going to blink first!

  “Take your pick.” He didn’t flinch at my question, just smiled wryly. There was a pause as he glanced at the table top as if looking at notecards for what to say next. When he spoke again, he leaned forward slightly, fixing his impressive eyes on me. “Dealing with Trip has been…challenging the last few years. He tends to bring out the worst in me. I just wanted to say that I’m sorry for what I said in the car. I was way out of line. I hope you’ll accept my apology, especially since it looks like we’ll be crossing paths a lot.”

  It wasn’t until I exhaled that I realized I’d been holding my breath the entire time he spoke. I’d had a lot of time to think about his intentions the day we met, as well as Trip’s revelations about his past exploits. Though I knew what Trip had confessed was likely just the tip of a gargantuan iceberg, knowing even that much allowed real sympathy for Sam. And I was actually starting to like him. A lot.

  Oh shit.

  I was afraid. Like jittery-trying-to-get-your-keys-to-unlock-the-car-door-when-you-hear-footsteps-behind-you-in-a-dark-parking-lot afraid. What the hell was it about Sam that freaked me out so much?

  You aren’t afraid of him, Annie. You’re afraid of you.

  A feeling of serenity settled over me, and I wanted to tell Sam that I was over our little war. That Trip and I weren’t seeing each other. That I’d had a naughty dream about him and that I ached to watch his reaction as I described it in explicit detail. I wanted to explain that I’d been a megabitch the day we met and that I would very much like to start over, too.

  But I needed to help Trip and stick to our plan. I wished I could find a way to convince Sam that Trip wasn’t permanently broken. If I could just get Sam to listen to reason and give Trip one more chance…

  One more chance. Would Trip make the most of it? Would he just tumble off the wagon if Violet ignored our little show and went and got married anyway? I considered how many times I’d foolishly bought my mother’s promises to change. On reflex, I flashed back to the day I told my grandparents that my mom’s boyfriend was touching me. The abject terror I felt when they confronted her was nothing compared to the rage when she proceeded to betray me. I listened in horror as my mom calmly explained that I’d been on cough medicine with codeine and that I’d hallucinated the entire thing. And even as I felt my blood boil and my temples throb like they might explode, I didn’t argue. Why bother? I could see by the looks on my grandparents faces that they wanted, no needed, it to be true. After all, wouldn’t it be a relief if they didn’t have to worry about me being irreparably damaged? Wouldn’t it be easier to not call the police and not have to take in three kids when my mom and the pervert ended up in jail? The sudden, crystal-clear memory racked me with nausea. I dropped my fork and covered my mouth with my napkin as tears sprung into my eyes. I felt Sam reach across the table and place his hand softly on my arm.

  “Annabelle?” he murmured, concern plastered all over his handsome face. I closed my eyes and yanked away from his grasp on instinct. The last thing I wanted was to be touched. He pulled back from me, but I couldn’t look at him yet. I stared at my plate, fighting through the urge to vomit. After what seemed like forever, I tossed my wad of napkins onto my barely-touched, ketchup covered plate.

  “It’s all good,” I croaked out the words and then looked up at him from under my lashes. He narrowed his eyes at me, a mixture of disbelief and concern battling on his face. “Really. We’re cool.”

  “This must be Annie.” Sam’s handsome friend had materialized at the perfect moment to save me from having to explain myself. “I thought I’d introduce myself since it looks like Sam doesn’t plan to. I’m Randall.”

  “Randall.” I took the hand he offered me and shook it. Then I made the connection and felt a coy smile overtake my lips. “Sam’s trainer. The one who kicked his ass.”

  Sam slumped back in his seat with an irritated groan as Ran
dall threw back his head and laughed. “One and the same.”

  “Well then, it’s truly a pleasure to meet you. I would have loved to see that.” I took a sip of my Coke and winked at Sam who slanted his eyes sideways at me, but failed to suppress a smirk.

  “Come by any Monday, Wednesday, or Friday at four. His ass has a standing date with my mat.” Randall handed me his card. He looked me over like he’d heard all about me and was deciding if I lived up to the hype. By his expression, I was guessing the jury was still out.

  “Good to know,” I replied and looked over his shoulder out of the window. Jayse had a beige pump out of the box and was gesturing to it like one of the bathing suit models on The Price is Right. The murmurs of the other customers were escalating to a dull roar, and I feared that if I didn’t join him outside, he’d get us banned from B&D’s.

  “If you’ll excuse me gentlemen, I have to go.”

  As I headed for the door, I heard Randall blurt, “You weren’t exaggerating about her hotness.”

  “Shut up, Randall.” I heard Sam snap and I tingled all the way to my toes.

  Black tie. Just thinking about those two little words exhausts me. A man’s preparatory ritual for these occasions is typically eclipsed by that of a woman’s, but ladies, I can assure you, it’s laborious. Pros like me, however, have it down to a science. As with all things, it helps to have the right tools for the job. A well-fitted, well-tailored tux can be surprisingly comfortable, especially if you’re used to wearing one and know how to move in it. And I was and I did. Like most of the men I grew up around, several tuxedos hang in my closet and that night I leaned on the doorframe, staring blankly at them.

  First I had a choice to make: midnight blue or black. Usually, I just closed my eyes and yanked one out of the closet, but tonight, that simply wouldn’t do. Tonight while Cosmo played Queen Hostess Supreme to Savannah’s upper echelon, I planned to get laid. Even with daily trips to the gym, I couldn’t seem to blow off enough steam to suppress my taxed libido. It had been far too long since I’d gotten some, and I needed to look my best for tonight’s meat market of debutantes Mama so graciously assembled for me. I feared that if I waited much longer to find a playmate, I’d fall prey (like my brother before me) to my gold-digging realtor, the cougarlicious Marybeth Dutton.

  As if it had a mind of its own, my hand shot out and pulled the black tux from the closet. If memory served, the black one had a slightly higher success rate for “sealing the deal.” I performed my pre-ball ritual: showering, exfoliating, shaving, silk shirt, suspenders, cuff links, money clip. An hour after I began, I hopped in the Mercedes and leisurely maneuvered the turns of Washington Square.

  As I headed toward the river, my mind drifted in the unwelcome direction of Annabelle. We’d had a moment at B&D’s; that was not just my imagination. She had looked at me with the same heat, the same emotional entanglement, the same conflicted frustration that I felt for her. How anyone who looked like her could seem so uncomfortable in her own skin was beyond me, but this was a blatant truth about her. For a fraction of a second after my apology, I’d thought things might have shifted between us. That maybe, like in my wild dreams, she might tell Trip she couldn’t see him anymore. That she wanted to see me instead. But her extreme reaction when I touched her—like I’d scalded her with a brand – made me realize that I’d been deluding myself.

  She’d made her choice, and it wasn’t me. I knew from experience that this familiar sting would fester if I let it. So I’d spent the week bracing myself for a glamorous night of watching her dance in my brother’s arms.

  Christ.

  I was already sexually frustrated enough without that mental picture. With any luck, Cosmo would have all the debs lined up at the entrance awaiting my arrival, like the madam of a Nevada whorehouse. Then I could just grab the first one who caught my eye and drag her upstairs to the nearest bed.

  Being a traditionalist, Mama had selected the Marriot Riverfront for her charity ball. I had to hand it to her: Cosmo really knew her stuff. In a few weeks the hotel would host the Christmas Cotillion, and tonight’s charity gala was sure to help build the anticipation and rile everyone up for the season. This wasn’t accidental. There were no coincidences in Imogene Moore Beaumont’s world. The sky wouldn’t shed a drop of rain during a garden party unless she allowed it.

  After tossing my keys to the valet, I plastered on a game-show-host smile and made my way to the lobby. I came to an abrupt stop, and the smile vanished at the sight of the atrium. Mama had truly outdone herself. I’d been to many functions at the Marriot, and I’d never seen it look better.

  Stars shone through the glass ceiling mirroring the sparkling white lights and gauzy silver table cloths below. White flowers and candle light garnished every surface, and champagne fountains framed the large stage at the far side of the space. Jeremy Davis and the Fabulous Equinox Orchestra had already claimed the stage and were in full swing, entertaining enthusiastic throngs of socialites. I veered left and made for the relative sanctuary of the bar, cautiously scanning the crowd for a familiar face. The first person I made eye contact with just happened to be Violet.

  It’d been at least six month since I’d last seen her, and she looked better than ever. Her pale skin and fair hair glowed in the candlelight, and her low cut gown was a wardrobe malfunction waiting to happen. She’d already spotted me and was moving purposefully in my direction.

  “Sam Beaumont, as I live and breathe…” Her eyebrow twitched just slightly and I broke into a genuine smile. Vi was an incorrigible flirt and she’d never stopped, even after she married my brother. That accent of hers sounded affected and dramatically sweet, but I knew she genuinely liked me, no matter how messy things had been with Trip. I still harbored some guilt for introducing her to him, but I had no more control over their love affair than a sailor has over a mid-Atlantic swell.

  She’d never given me reason to think she blamed me. Violet and I had established our own relationship in the years following Daddy’s suicide and its disastrous fall out. Like two passengers who’d bailed on a sinking ship, we’d survived a terrible experience together and would somehow be forever bonded by it. Violet stepped forward and made the motion of kissing me on both cheeks. She would never have actually kissed me at a social event like this; she’d been brought up right. Messing up her perfectly glossed lips would be unthinkable. “I heard you were back in town. Why am I just now laying eyes on you?”

  “Lookin’ good, Vi. That haircut suits you,” I responded to her rhetorical question.

  “Well, I don’t have time to screw around with long hair now that Maisie has the ability to run into the street and climb out of windows.” Her dry response made me realize just how much I’d missed her and that I was still mourning her loss. I’d always thought divorce had to be worse than death. One still has to see the ex…or at least know they’re still out there wandering around in the world.

  “How are things?” My face was neutral, but she paused long enough for me understand this was more than a casual question.

  “Marvelous.” She winked at me coquettishly as I watched her wash the lie down with a chaser of champagne. “God, I’m glad you’re here. I can finally relax now that a real human being has arrived. Oh! Guess what? I’m leaving Macy’s.”

  “What the hell? I thought you loved it there.” Her career as a buyer was the one thing she still had left from her “picket fence” plans for the future.

  “Of course I do. But I’m leaving them for Sak’s Fifth Avenue!” Her excitement was infectious and remembering the dreams of the freshman girl I’d once had a crush on, I grinned.

  “That’s wonderful. I’m really happy for you.” I replied, and as I basked in the contact high from her achievement, my mind wandered back to Annabelle’s pointed question in the studio weeks before.

  Didn’t you ever have a dream?

  Though I’d tried to thrust both her and her words from my mind, her questions clung to me like a spider web.
After a couple of days of trying to brush her away, I actually stopped to consider the validity of her query. And I remembered.

  Memories soon led to an idea, and that idea bloomed and sprouted into a mission. In a matter of hours, I realized how I could put my plan into action. I’d found a way to give back to the world and occupy my time with something meaningful and productive. But I had needed a sounding board – someone who knew me and was grounded. So I called Randall and we met for lunch to discuss my idea. As fate would have it, Annabelle had been sitting fifteen feet away when I dropped my plan on him.

  I’m pretty sure he was stunned speechless at first. Not that I didn’t have a good idea (he knows I have at least a half a brain), but at how passionate I was about it. When he’d recovered from his initial shock, he said he was thrilled with my suggestion, and he’d agreed to help me out. Psyched to finally have a focus, I wanted to keep the entire thing under wraps until I was ready to surprise my family with it.

  “Of course, it’s the Sak’s in Charleston. You have heard my other news, haven’t you?” Violet pulled me out of myself and back to the real world.

  “About your engagement? Yeah, Trip told me.” Her reaction when I spoke his name was fleeting and might have been missed by anyone but me.

  “Congrats.”

  “Ah, thanks, Sam.” She leaned in to give me a real hug and whispered in my ear. “You know, you’re the only one in that family of yours that was ever worth a damn.”

  I felt an unwelcome lump in my throat at her kind words, though I knew she was lying to herself. “That fiancé of yours is one lucky man.”

  “I want you to meet him! He’s here somewhere.” She linked arms with me and gently tugged me into the crowd. Cringing inwardly, I felt like a man walking to the gallows. Meeting this amorphous character was about to usher in the end of an era for me. We simultaneously plucked flutes of champagne from a passing tray, and Violet giggled playfully. I nodded to a few familiar faces as we weaved our way through clusters of haute couture. I could smell her lavender perfume, the same she always wore, and I closed my eyes as the scent propelled me down memory lane. A steady stream of gossip flowed from Violet’s shimmering lips, and I was struck by the realization that this could have been any one of dozens of parties we’d been to since we’d met. Same people, same stories, same music, same caterers. For a fleeting moment, I allowed myself the illusion that Daddy hadn’t blown his brains out and Trip hadn’t destroyed his own life. But when Violet released me from her grip and walked into the arms of a dark-haired stranger, all pretending came to a halt, and my homespun illusion dissipated.