Crazy Love

by Michelle Pace

  “Dash, I have someone I want you to meet,” I heard Violet say as I exchanged uncomfortable nods with the collective group of men gathered around her date. I recognized only one of them, and it was Hank Fredrickson. An old classmate of mine, Hank was a racist tool to whom I’d given two black eyes in the ninth grade. He’d been the class bully since elementary school, but when a boy half your size pummels you in front of the entire student body, your street cred takes a serious blow. Formerly a classic muscle-head, Hank had really let himself go. If this dude was an example of who Vi’s fiancé hung with, I figured it was unlikely we’d become yachting buddies.

  Joy to the world.

  Violet pulled away from her fiancé, and I tried not to gawk. He looked like a movie star – one who would be cast as a gladiator or possibly a Greek God. He smiled at me with polite curiosity. “Sam, I’d like you to meet my fiancé, Dashul Stein. Dash, this is Sam Beaumont.”

  As expected, his smile evaporated at my surname. His eyes widened slightly, and then he blinked rapidly. “Beaumont?”

  “Yep. Ex-brother in law. Nice to meet you anyhow,” I quipped, offering my hand. Dashul took it in a very business-appropriate manner. His jaw tightened, and he pressed his lips into a thin, pale line. The entire mood of the group shifted, and the tension was palpable. I silently wondered what I’d done to piss Violet off enough to put me in this predicament. Her smile faltered, but she looked perplexed. She was usually pretty socially savvy, so I wondered if she was tipsy.

  “Sam. You’re a hell of a lot bigger than your brother.” Dashul had evidently recovered from his initial shock, and as he spoke, he wore a disingenuous grin. I shrugged, unsure how to respond to his evaluation. Hank snorted, looking very much like the bulldog mascot of the University of Georgia, and I fixed him with a stone-cold glare. Hank was the kind of guy you had to take out at the knees immediately, before he got any wild ideas. It worked instantly, and he was suddenly very interested in the ice cubes in his scotch. This seemed to set off a couple of his pals, who started to get their hackles up like wolves around a piece of raw meat. One of them stood up in anticipation of a brawl, and I waited for him to start beating on his chest like a silverback gorilla. I turned my glare on him deducing that I could easily take him and that I’d probably come out unscathed, but I didn’t want to cause a scene for Violet or put a wrinkle in Cosmo’s latest societal triumph. As irritating as Mama was, she needed this as much as starving children in Africa need a dollar a day.

  “Sam? Sam Beaumont! Why, there you are; we’ve been looking everywhere for you!” Like my fairy godfather, Annie’s flaming pal from the restaurant pushed through the men without a backward glance at them. His impeccable tux contrasted with his unruly blonde curls. Lurking behind him was a small red-haired pretty boy, peeking eagerly at the scene.

  “J…Jayse?” I stammered, surprised as hell to see him in this setting.

  “Excuse me, gentlemen, but this man’s mother is our hostess, and she has requested his presence,” Jayse gesticulated wildly, speaking about three notches on the volume control louder than necessary. I nodded neutrally, but inside I was overjoyed to be extracted from the tense situation.

  “You’d better save a dance for me, Sam Beaumont!” Violet called after us as Jayse unceremoniously yanked me away by the arm.

  “Thanks,” I muttered when we were out of earshot.

  “Anytime. I can spot Neanderthals in heat from twenty paces. We can’t have that delicious face of yours pummeled so early in the evening. Oh. This is my boyfriend, Dale.” I nodded in greeting to the diminutive ginger who fell in step with us as we made our way back toward the neutral territory of the bar. “Your mother really is looking for you, by the way. When I told her I knew you, she dispatched me on a mission to bring you around. I think she has some hoochie Mama she wants you to meet.”

  “I don’t doubt that.” Though I’d barely even exchanged two words with Jayse prior to this conversation, I wasn’t at all offended by his overly familiar manner. I liked frank people; they were a refreshingly exotic breed in my universe. It probably didn’t hurt that he lived with Annabelle, a concept that I found fascinating. But the prospect of dealing with Cosmo seemed daunting at the moment. I knew I had to go kiss her ring at some point, but I really needed another drink to stomach that pomp and circumstance.

  “Jayse, we have to warm up in five,” Dale said in a hushed tone as if this were a state secret. I must have looked as confused as I felt because he quickly began to explain. “We’re in Noteable. We’re performing tonight.”

  I nodded like I knew what that meant.

  “When Annie gets here, let her know I’m in room one-fifteen.” Jayse ordered and strutted off with Dale scampering after him.

  I shook my head at their abrupt departure. After a tension breaking sigh, I ordered a scotch on the rocks. I was fixated on the bartender’s fluid motions, when I felt a tap on my shoulder. Glancing in the mirror behind the bar, I saw my realtor, Marybeth, lurking behind me like a succubus in a medieval tome.

  You have got to be kidding me.

  “Hello, stranger.” She attempted to dazzle me with a shark-like grin. Pounds of thick black hair were skillfully piled on top of her head, and she apparently lived in a tanning bed. Her gown would have been scandalous on a woman twenty years younger, but on her it may as well have been a welcome mat. I had to give her credit; through genes, exercise, and most likely plastic surgery, she could definitely pull it off.

  “Marybeth.” I took a long pull off my glass and contemplated my aforementioned plan to get my pipes cleaned by any means necessary.

  “Ready to come back to my office and make an offer?” Her voice made her a shoo-in for a second career as a phone sex operator. I blushed at her double entendre.

  “I loved the Bay Street condo, but I have a bigger deal I want your help with first,” I responded. She raised a suggestive eyebrow and leaned back against the bar. I gawked at her considerable cleavage, unable to figure out how she kept the flimsy material strategically positioned over her ample chest. I suspected it involved smoke and mirrors.

  “Hmmm…I bet you do.” She purred. When I simply blinked at her, she straightened up, her megawatt smile fading. I had a front row seat to her seamless transformation from man-eater to shrewd businesswoman. “Oh. You’re serious. What did you have in mind?”

  I pulled out my wallet and handed her an address. She frowned as she read it and cast cautious eyes at me.

  “What the hell do you want with that old place?” She cocked her head to the side, and the bartender slid another drink in front of me.

  I sipped it nonchalantly. “That’s my business. And I want it for 20,000 less than they are asking. Can you broker the deal?”

  She scoffed. “Are there mustaches in Mexico? Are you sure you want it? It’s awfully close to the ghetto.”

  An eye-roll threatened to escape me, but I managed to suppress it. The neighborhood wasn’t that bad. I was certain that for Marybeth, anything that wasn’t Ardsley Park or Hilton Head was “the ghetto.” She was still eyeing me as if trying to remember the combination of her high school locker. “How serious are you?”

  “I’ll pay for it in cash,” I replied. “And I want to take possession no later than Christmas. If you can make that happen, I’ll buy the Bay Street condo as well—for full asking price.”

  Ms. Dutton’s dark eyes danced with the prospect. “Consider it done.”

  As she sashayed away, I was unable to restrain myself from admiring her heart-shaped ass. Feeling overheated, I loosened my tie as I started to turn back to the bar. I caught sight of Violet, who was yanking her arm out of Dash’s grip. He looked amused, but she seemed furious. As she strutted away from him, he shrugged and turned back to his friends. Violet made a beeline for the ladies room. I started after her, but noticed her immediately slow her step and gape at the entrance. My eyes followed her gaze and landed on Trip. He saw me and waved with a friendly smile. He wore black on black, and seeing
him dressed to the nines gave me a disturbing sense of déjà vu. By all appearances, he seemed well rested and remarkably happy. I altered my course in his direction, all the while surveying the crowd for his date. When I finally spotted Annabelle, my heart stopped.

  As always, her beauty nearly knocked me over. Every curve of her body was showcased in strapless satin, and as she walked toward her date, I saw one perfectly shaped leg peek out from underneath the slit in her silky material. She carried herself with cocky confidence that made the corners of my mouth lift skyward. Though I suspected this sort of engagement was not her typical Saturday night affair, she looked nearly as at home as everyone else did. Annabelle glanced in Violet’s direction with a self-satisfied smirk. Violet’s porcelain face marred with a frown, and she looked once more at Trip before vanishing into the ladies room.

  I resumed moving toward my brother, but I was caught off guard as I realized Annabelle’s eyes were on me. Her smug look had vanished, but I wasn’t able to pinpoint what emotion lay behind the expression that replaced it. Time seemed to slow down as we drew nearer to one another, and I felt like my limbs were trudging through wet sand. Her skin seemed to shimmer in the low light, giving her an ethereal quality. Her long flaxen hair cascaded over one bare shoulder, and I caught a glimpse of a little black heart tattoo just up and to the left of where her actual heart resided. I could smell the fruity scent of her hair as she and I both reached Trip simultaneously.

  “Fashionably late, I see.” I forced my eyes in Trip’s direction, and he shrugged nonchalantly.

  “You know me: I like to make an entrance. Especially with such an enchanting creature on my arm.” Annabelle rolled her eyes, but beamed at his compliment. That smile of hers was liquid sunshine.

  “You do look amazing.” It was out of my mouth before my big brain caught up with my smaller, south-of-the-border one. I felt heat rise in my cheeks, but I kept my eyes firmly on hers. I didn’t want to look at Trip, afraid my crush on his date was etched on my face. Annabelle blinked twice, and her plum-shaded lips parted in surprise. She awkwardly cast her gaze to the hem of her floor length gown, and then peeked up at me from under impossibly long eyelashes.

  “So do you,” she replied quietly, and though I grinned like a fool on the inside, I simply nodded once.

  “She’s gonna turn some heads, alright.” Trip chimed in, but he wasn’t looking at either of us. He was obviously distracted, scanning the crowd.

  “Violet had a front row seat to your grand entrance. She ran off to the restroom like Annie spilled punch on her at the junior high dance,” I remarked and watched as Trip turned to Annie with a sly smile. She smiled back with a nod of confirmation. A mysterious look passed between them, and I decided it was probably some private joke of theirs that I most likely didn’t want to be privy to.

  I swiftly changed the subject. “I’m glad you’re finally here. Word on the street is that Cosmo is looking for us.”

  It was Trip’s turn to produce an eye roll, but his didn’t come with a side order of smiles.

  “Naturally.” He looked like I’d just proposed a rectal exam. “Let’s get this over with.”

  I took the lead, guiding them through the swelling crowd. We skirted the dance floor, heading in the opposite direction from the way Vi and I had traveled. As frustrating as it was to see my brother with Annabelle, the solution was not to steer him directly to Hank, Dash, and their douchebag convention.

  It wasn’t hard to find Mama. She presented herself as the center of attention—more so than the 22 piece band across the room. Standing elevated two feet above the crowd, Cosmo radiated superiority in her shimmering silver gown. Flanked by polished debutantes, it seemed that she was treating the risers (connected to ramps on both sides) as her own personal receiving line.

  What a saint. My mother, the ever-selfless philanthropist.

  She flitted from person to person like the world’s oldest butterfly, exchanging haughty air kisses with the mayor’s wife and whispering something in the ear of an infamous businessman. As they both chuckled, I marveled at her chameleon nature and secretly wished I had inherited it. Unfortunately, I’d been born with a soul, so it seemed I was doomed to a life of blissful mediocrity.

  Like the good little soldiers we were, Trip and I moved into line, readying ourselves to play our roles as courtiers to the Red Queen. I paused when I noticed Annabelle release Trip’s hand and pull back from the line. The look she wore could best be described as abject terror. Trip reached out to her, and she regarded his hand as if it might sprout fangs and bite her. Another strange wordless exchange occurred, and I saw her shoulders heave with a large inhale. Her eyes were on mine suddenly, and they seemed to ask me if this was going to hurt. I gave her a reassuring smile that even I didn’t quite believe. She reluctantly stepped forward, taking her place at Trip’s side. Trip pulled her hand to his lips and kissed it. It seemed showy and over the top—Trip’s typical M.O.

  Soon I stood toe to toe with Mama. She gave me a Cheshire grin and turned to a pretty, young brunette beside her.

  “Here he is, Jenny. This is Samson.”

  “Samson!” I heard Annabelle blurt behind me and then giggle in her melodious way. I purposely acted as if I hadn’t heard her, but noticed Mama’s reptilian eyes shift unblinkingly to the couple behind me. The smile never left her face as she continued.

  “Jenny is a Tri-Delt at the University of Georgia.” She presented Jenny as if she were a tie that I might like to try on. Earlier in the evening, I would have been game, but now I was painfully aware of Annabelle’s eyes burning two holes into the back of my head. Deciding to give the little pain in my ass a show as payback for making fun of my name, I took Jenny’s gloved hand and kissed it.

  Then I panicked, realizing I had no idea what to say to the girl. The uncomfortable silence was growing longer by the second. I urgently grasped at the fact that we had the same alma mater.

  “Go Dawgs,” I murmured semi-sarcastically. I heard Trip snort behind me.

  “Damn good dog!” Jenny cheered as if she had a pair of pom poms hidden somewhere in that slinky dress of hers.

  “I thought the two of you might have a lot to talk about,” Cosmo prompted me as if I were a small child and it was my first time at the playground. Jenny seemed more than willing to overlook my obvious idiocy, presumably since Mama had showed her a spreadsheet showcasing my net worth. I glanced at her green eyes and olive skin and suppressed a “what-the-hell” shrug. I offered my arm to her, and as we moved to go down the ramp, I noticed Sebastian Wakefield and his ever-present bodyguards step out of our path. Wakefield was holding two glasses of champagne. He grinned and gave me a semi-mocking half bow. I searched him with a puzzled frown. My instinct was to lure him into a corner somewhere and interrogate him, but about what, I had no idea. I glanced back over my shoulder as Jenny pulled me toward the dance floor and watched him ascend the ramp and take his spot beside my mother. The realization that he was Mama’s escort seemed to hit Trip and me at the same time. Wakefield smiled at Trip in a predatory manner and went to shake his hand. Trip glared at him and ignored his outstretched hand as if it belonged to a leper. I froze, and the physics of my clumsy move caused Jenny to stumble backward into me. I’d never seen Trip look at anyone with such open hatred. He was one of those people who always found the goodness in others, not a card-carrying cynic like me. That was one of the reasons that his spiral into drunken depression was so devastating to those around him.

  As I gaped at the exchange, I felt two arms wrap around my chest.

  “They say you can tell what a man’s like in bed by how he leads,” Jenny whispered in my ear from behind. Then she spun me toward her and pulled me onto the dance floor by my lapels.

  I tried not to fidget as I watched Sam’s mother throw a girl at him as if he were a wrathful volcano and she a virgin sacrifice. Witnessing his enthusiasm as he kissed the hand of Princess Nosejob caused prickly needles throughout my entire upper body. This sensatio
n was so fierce and unexpected, I wondered if my hair was visibly standing on end. Imagine my astonishment when I realized I was jealous. And we’re not talking just a bit of envy. Oh, no. Neon green jealousy of a magnitude I hadn’t felt since I was in high school.

  Sure, I’d been jealous of the kids whose back-to-school clothes weren’t from garage sales or Goodwill. And of those whose parents showed up to teacher’s conferences or remembered to pick them up after school. But I’d only felt that way about a boy once before in my life. And to say that it ended badly was the understatement of the century.

  I had just turned 16, and my mom was long gone by then. We’d moved in with my grandparents, and though I went to therapy twice a week, I acted up constantly—not coming home on the weekends, cutting class and taking a bus back to my hometown to hang with my friends. My grandma claims I was simply “high spirited.” I now understand I was craving attention and approval from someone…anyone. And I didn’t have to look far to get it.

  I thought Nick was a kindred spirit and mistakenly assumed he was as damaged and screwed up as me. Of course it was all costuming, but by the time I figured that out, I was in a locked ward on a seventy-two-hour hold. I became so infatuated with his shaggy black Goth hair and sullen demeanor that within a month of knowing him, I let him tattoo me and take my virginity. It only took him two clumsy times in the back of his car to knock me up. My grandparents were so disappointed, but his parents were furious. When I insisted on keeping the baby, Mr. Perfect stood right beside me in total agreement. It was all so romantic, like a pierced Romeo and Juliet.