“So about the other night…” I began, but she adamantly shook her head, her thick mane spilling in sexy waves around her shoulders.
“That was obnoxious. I’m so embarrassed.” She blew out a loud breath and turned appalled eyes on me. “I have the shittiest timing. I’m so sorry.”
“Don’t be. I’m not.” I set my untouched bowl on the end table and turned sideways to face her. I saw a tiny bit of frosting on the corner of her lips, and I wanted to taste it. I scooted closer to her and dabbed that delicious mouth with a napkin. “Someone had to break the ice. But please understand-I was way too wasted to express myself coherently. That night was so messed up…no matter how you look at it. You and I…it was just too much too soon.”
She seemed to concentrate on the ocean, but I suspected she didn’t really see it. Her voice sounded distant when she finally spoke. “It’s probably for the best. There’s a lot about me you don’t know. When you said I had daddy issues, you were right. I have problems, Sam. I…”
“Can you just forget I ever said that? Please?” I sighed, running a hand over my hair. I hated that I’d shot my mouth off to her because I was a jealous little bitch.
“Only if you can forget I jumped you like a cat in heat,” she retorted, fervently studying her shoes.
“Well then…don’t forget it, ‘cause I sure as hell am not giving that memory up,” I shot back, causing her to meet my eyes again. To my surprise, she slowly unveiled a dazzling smile.
“I want a do-over. What do you say we just give this a try? Are you done pretending to be my brother’s girl yet? ‘Cause I may just have to out the two of you.” I reached out and entwined my calloused fingers with her perfect ones. She didn’t pull away; she just stared curiously down at our unified hands.
“I’d really like to, but have so much going on. School and…I have a fucked-up family,” she whispered. I noticed her hand tremble slightly under mine and squeezed it.
“Who doesn’t?” I put my arm around her and pulled her closer to me. If she was going to shoot me down, I wanted to feel her against me one more time.
She leaned her head on my shoulder, and the sensation of her warmth against me was so perfect that I had to close my eyes and savor it. “Point taken.”
“My life’s far from perfect, Annabelle. I’m pretty sure that won’t change anytime soon. And you should know right now that I’m bad at this. I’ve got almost no experience with relationships. But I’m willing to try.” She lifted her head off of my shoulder, and I saw her eyes were shiny and filled with fear.
“Your mother? She hates me.” She blinked at me with childlike innocence.
“That hardly makes you unusual.” I cracked a lopsided grin. Her lips twitched, and she chewed on her lip in a nervous manner.
“This whole thing scares me,” she admitted. I brushed her hair out of her eyes and leaned in for a soft kiss. Her soft lips were inviting…welcoming. She moaned quietly and melted into me. The feel of her body against mine was addictive. I pulled away before I got myself into serious trouble.
“Me, too.” My lips grazed her forehead.
“Hey, Sam! Quit making out with Annabelle and get your ass back down here! You have presents to open!” I heard Randall yell. Laughter drifted up the stairs to us, and with matching eye rolls, we pulled away from each other. Standing, I pulled her into my arms again. Her hands wrapped around my neck, and she pulled my mouth down to meet hers once more. Our tongues touched delicately as we explored each other with caution and fascination. I was in no hurry to go downstairs; it was going to be impossible for anyone to compete with the gifts she was already giving me.
After several more wet kisses, Sam groaned regretfully and held me at arm’s length. I wanted to whine and tell him to forget about his party, but instead, I let him lead me by the hand down the stairs. Everyone else had assembled in the living room, and a tide of knowing eyes washed over us. I felt Sam’s grip on my hand tighten. My eyes were drawn to his pitiful knuckles, which were beaten to shit. I squeezed back gently, and he didn’t flinch. I guess the abuse from pummeling other men in the face had conditioned them to handle worse. He pulled me toward a love seat which was conspicuously empty. In front of us, the coffee table contained a mountain of gifts. Maisie hovered near the presents as if she were about to dive in and rip each one open herself.
With enthusiasm that rivaled his niece’s, Sam proceeded to tear each gift free from its wrapper. Seeing him interact with Maisie was a heart squeeze. He was so good with her, acting as if he wasn’t strong enough to rip the wrapping paper and gushing about her muscles when she could. This sweet side of him was an unexpected surprise, and my face hurt from smiling.
There was no mistaking Sam’s love for the cuff links Trip bought, or the first edition of The Sun Also Rises that Violet had found for him. As the treasures began to pile up beside him, I got more and more nervous about my gift. After stopping by the gym to see Randall and pick his brain, I was pretty sure he’d like it, but most of Sam’s friends operated on a different playing field than I did.
Jayse and Dale, who’d been fighting about anything and everything for days, both seemed pleased with Sam’s reaction to their rare vinyl copy of a Frank Sinatra album they’d given him. They’d wanted to give him something musical, and Trip had recommended anything by the Rat Pack. As Sam or each gift-giver explained to the group what had prompted each selection, it was a bit of a crash course on the man I was so enamored with. He apparently had a love of old music, preferably on vinyl (‘nothing sounds quite like it’); fitness gear, like the wrist monitor Randall gave him to track his progress; books, especially classic novels; and ties. Now that was an intriguing bit of information…
We didn’t have everything in common, a state of affairs which was, in my opinion, ideal. It guaranteed we’d teach each other stuff…expose each other to new and interesting things. Startled, I realized I felt all of those “new crush” tingles, but an odd sense of peace accompanied them that I’d never experienced before. My nerves kicked in, and I realized I was building sandcastles in the clouds. I’d inserted Sam into the role of knight on a big white steed who’d ride in and save me from my ghettofabulous tower. I wouldn’t say I slammed on the imaginary brakes, but I was definitely pumping them. Sam seemed to smell the fresh doubt on me like I exuded it from my pores. Every time I started to fidget, whether he was looking at me at the moment or not, he reached out and touched me. He’d hold my hand or stroke my hair as if silently telling me to not think so much. I did my best to comply.
At one point, I noticed Violet eyeing me curiously. It made me curious about her past with Sam, but there was nothing possessive or territorial about her demeanor. She seemed pleased when he put his arm on the back of the couch behind me. In return, I was delighted that she was sitting next to Trip on the sofa. Maisie now settled on Trip’s other side, and they looked like a picture-perfect happy family. The only thing that marred the Norman Rockwell moment was the garish diamond on her left hand that was from another man.
As coincidence would have it, Sam’s last unopened package was from me. His almond shaped eyes found mine as he picked up the large, thin, rectangular present and his eyebrows knit curiously. Embarrassed, I fought hard not to show it in front of the room full of people watching our relationship sprout fresh from the soil. He slid his fingers along the seam, ripping open the shiny lavender paper that reminded me so much of the color of his eyes.
His mouth fell open slightly as he held up the framed fight poster signed by Joe Frazier and Muhammad Ali in 1971. Randall jumped up and ran around the back of the loveseat, so he could admire it over his shoulder.
“This is…wow.” Sam’s remark oozed the type of reverence one might expect for someone viewing the crown jewels.
“Madison Square Gardens. How many times did my dad tell us about this fight?” Randall gushed, slapping Sam on the back like only someone in the throes of a bromance can. I watched them with fascination, like an anthropologist st
udying a long-lost tribe on a previously undiscovered island. I got that the poster was from a landmark fight in boxing history, and Randall had made it clear when we talked at Hard Knocks that Sam worshipped Ali. Internet searching had led me to this poster, and thanks to Trip’s check for my modeling work and Imogene’s Gallery, I could afford the splurge.
“She’s a keeper, Sammy.” Randall mumbled and before I had a chance feel too humiliated by his assessment, the doorbell rang and several people used the opportunity to refill empty plates or glasses. Jayse challenged Maisie to a game of foosball, and half the guests vanished toward the rec room.
Sam ignored them all. He leaned in as if he were whispering in my ear and kissed the spot directly behind it on my neck. It tickled, and I fought off the urge to laugh. His warm breath had every hair on my body standing on end.
“How can I properly thank you for such a generous gift?” His husky voice was thick with testosterone and adrenaline.
“I’m sure we can think of something,” I whispered back, sounding more than a little breathless. Raised voices snapped us both out of the moment. Trip’s hostility emanated from the front door, and I immediately looked around for Maisie. It seemed she was still with Jayse. Randall and Sam hurried toward the altercation. Violet disappeared in that direction as well, and I cautiously trailed after them.
I turned the corner in time to see Sam dart out the front door. Whatever was going on had apparently spilled outside onto the porch, so I followed Randall and Violet outside.
I stopped in my tracks when I saw Trip on the lawn. He was waving his finger in his mother’s face. She stood at the bottom of the stairs with Sebastian Wakefield.
“Don’t be ridiculous, Trip,” I heard her say through gritted teeth, “Sam is my son, and I’ll bring whoever the hell I wish to his party.”
She seemed to spot Sam descending the stairs and smiled up at him. “Sam! There you are. Tell your brother to stop acting crazy. You haven’t been giving him scotch, have you?”
Sam stopped one step from the bottom. “Trip hasn’t been drinking, Mama. But I think you’d better leave. Your guests aren’t welcome here.”
I glanced toward the car and saw both of Wakefield’s body guards moving toward the stairs. Cosmo looked at Sam as if he’d just hacked a loogey in her general direction.
“How dare you speak to me that way? I didn’t raise the both of you to carry on in public.”
“You didn’t raise us at all. Athena did,” Trip snapped and by the look their mother gave Sam, I could tell his expression concurred. I stepped closer, wanting to see Sam’s face. I wanted to try to read how this unexpected confrontation was affecting him. The planks creaked beneath me, and Cosmo looked up and saw me. She gave me a poisonous once-over, an unmistakable look of abject disapproval etched in every age line on her face.
“Oh, I see. I guess I shouldn’t be surprised. You’ve both become clones of your father. Not a lick of ambition between the two of you. Spending your days running around with common whores.” Her voice dropped nearly an octave as she glowered first at Sam, then at Trip. Wakefield watched the entire exchange with what looked like polite amusement. Trip fumed.
“Mama,” Sam snapped, his tone dark and impatient.
“Don’t ever speak to us about Daddy. And how dare you bring this man to my house?” In his rage, Trip seemed to misjudge the distance between himself and Wakefield, and slammed his pointer finger into Wakefield’s sternum. His bodyguards sprang at Trip, and the smaller of the two punched him in the jaw. Trip took it like a champ and swung on the guy, missing him entirely. Sam leapt forward, knocking the smaller bodyguard to the ground. Everything seemed to happen at once. There was some general shoving, and Sam grabbed the larger of the two bodyguards by the hair and raised his right fist. Randall hopped down the last half of the flight of stairs and flung himself into the fray. He pushed Sam back before he could land a punch and put himself between the two warring factions. Sam and the larger bodyguard were still practically eye to eye. For a moment, I was sure the larger bodyguard was going to hit Sam.
“Unless you plan to pull that piece you’re wearing under your coat, I suggest you step off of my boy.” Randall’s non-negotiable tone brimmed with promise. Wakefield seemed to decide now was the time to speak up.
“Everyone, relax.” His clipped voice and enigmatic presence drew everyone’s attention. Everyone seemed to focus on him instantly. I was aware of someone next to me and turned to see Violet. Her green eyes surveyed the scene below as if it were a booby trap that might ensnare her if she wasn’t cautious. “Coming here was a mistake, Geenie. Let’s go back to the car.”
“No.” Imogene seemed immune to Wakefield’s spell, her eyes never leaving Trip’s. “I think I’d like to hear why my son seems so hell bent on hating you…and me.”
“This really isn’t the time or the place for this conversation, is it?” Wakefield tried to take her arm but Imogene whipped it away without so much as a glance in his direction.
“I’m being turned away from my son’s birthday party. I think this seems like exactly the time for this conversation,” she snipped, her eyes shifting slowly from Trip to Sam and back again.
“I’m inclined to agree with Mr. Wakefield. This is Trip’s house. He can decline anyone he wishes to. We were raised better, Mama. Let’s not make more of a scene.” Sam’s level reasoning seemed to give her pause. She turned her blue eyes on him again, and her shoulders relaxed as she shrugged back into her public persona as if it were a custom mink coat.
“Fine. But I have something for you, Samson.”
Sam could have been in P.R., he handled her so skillfully. “Thank you, Mama. I’m sure I’ll love whatever it is.”
“We’ll do brunch next week?” She asked, firmly ignoring every other person present. It seemed as if she were trying to reconstruct the encounter. I wasn’t sure if all that effort was for her benefit or ours. Whichever, it was the creepiest metamorphosis I’d ever seen.
“Shall we?” She turned to Sebastian as if they were at a garden party with the mayor instead of just moments post fisticuffs on the front lawn.
He nodded. They took two steps toward the car, but he stopped and turned back. He looked apologetic, like a politician who’d been caught in the midst of a sex scandal. “Happy birthday, Sam.”
Sam had his back to me, but I saw him nod once. This seemed to appease both of his parents, because they climbed into Wakefield’s swanky car and once the bodyguards lumbered back in, they drove away.
“What the fuck was that all about?” Violet asked, slanting her eyes in my direction.
“Ask Trip.” Slapping at a mosquito resting on my forearm, I turned and walked back into the house.
An hour after the encounter, Trip was still livid. His jaw was bruised, and Violet kept trying to force a bag of frozen peas against it, but his gestures were so animated as he vented that she could barely maintain contact. I told him to let it go, that I’d handle it, that I had a plan. Violet finally pulled him away from the rest of the party when Maisie resurfaced and started asking questions. They retired to the wrap-around porch off the second floor. On the way out the door Trip gave me a questioning look. I nodded at him. It was long past time for him to tell Violet everything.
Jayse apparently had hit it off with Patience much in the same manner he had Violet at the gala. Dale fussed with the food, but it was clear to me he and Jayse were on the outs by the way he kept himself busy and Jayse occupied his time with everyone and anyone else at the party. The overall tension was palpable to everyone present, and Trip’s friends and Mike and Charles (who had thankfully missed the entire event outside) soon packed up their dates and left.
Annabelle helped Dale in the kitchen, putting leftovers away and wiping down counters. I walked up behind her and wrapped my arms around her. I wanted to reassure her that I in no way condoned my mother implying that Annabelle was somehow a second class citizen. But that wasn’t all; like some sort of vampire, I nee
ded to feed off the way she made me feel. When I focused on her, I felt unstoppable.
She turned to me and gave me a pouty look. “I’m sorry they wrecked your party.”
I tilted her chin up toward me. “Nothing could ruin today. Let me help you with the rest of this stuff. I want to take you for a walk on the beach.”
Annabelle’s color was high as we raced to finish cleaning up. We were about to go out of the back door when Violet and Trip reappeared. Violet looked even paler than usual, and her frown was full of complexity. Trip looked blotchy, and I imagined their conversation had been pretty emotional. He was holding a dripping bag of peas to his face and called to us in a muffled voice.
“You two might want some bug spray. Those mosquitos out there are ravenous.” Annie dropped my hand and took off for the stairs. She returned a moment later, offering the half empty aerosol can to me.
I held up a hand. “Thanks, I’m good.”
“Suit yourself.” She set it down on the nearest end table and off we went. We were halfway down the wooden walkway over the marshy dunes when she took my hand.
“Are you sure you’re okay?” she asked. I stretched my neck from side to side and realized how much tension I’d been holding.
“I was afraid Randall was going to get himself shot.” I pulled my hand from hers and slipped my arm around her shoulders. She responded by wrapping her arms around my waist. As I leaned in to kiss her temple, I inhaled the intoxicating scent of her hair. My chest felt tight as I clung to her more tightly. Somehow Annabelle had become my security blanket. In my spiraling life, she was a talisman against all the gathering insanity. I needed to touch her and be touched by her to remind myself there was tangible good amongst all this ugliness.
Crazy Love Page 18