Crazy Love (23 page)

“Annie.” Her greeting was as crisp as a Minnesota winter morning.

“Mrs. Beaumont.” I nodded and made to sidestep her. She planted her statuesque self directly in my path.

“Let’s discuss this sordid business like ladies, shall we?” Her penciled eyebrows knitted slightly, as she gave my attire a quick once over.

Baffled, I folded my arms across my chest defensively. I couldn’t imagine where she was going with that opening line. “Discuss what?”

‘Cosmo,’ as Trip and Sam called her, stopped short of rolling her eyes, but she did look toward the ceiling. “Your
relationship
with my son.”

“Which one?” It was so worth looking whorish in front of my new pal Lola for the look my comment produced on Imogene’s face.

“Why, Trip…of course…” Her pauses were barely perceptible as she worked to maintain her finishing school demeanor.

I inhaled deeply, trying to control my forest fire of a temper. “Trip and I are friends. There’s nothing more to say.”

“I have it on good authority the two of you were lewd in a dressing room. If you must behave like a porn star, young lady, do it with someone else’s son.”

I could actually feel my eye twitching, and my cheeks caught on fire. She had a point, but what we’d done or not done was none of her damned business. “Trip’s a big boy. He doesn’t need a permission slip from you anymore. If I were you, I’d be a bit more focused on your other son about now.”

I could see the well-oiled wheels turning behind the grand dame’s eyes. She glanced past me, and I could hear Lola scrambling into her office.

“Listen to me carefully, Annabelle,” she began through a terrifying smile, “Trip is one thing. He’s been flailing for a while, but I have high hopes he’s pulling himself together. Samson…is my baby. And
he
has unlimited potential. I won’t tolerate some trashy blonde lamprey sucking him dry. He may have lost his compass, but he’s exceptionally brilliant and perceptive. He’ll find his way back to the path. Be a dear and make sure you’re not blocking it.”

I emitted an ugly chuckle. “You’ve obviously lost touch with reality if you think
I’m
Sam’s problem. If I were you, I’d stop worrying about other people’s kids and have a serious chat with your
own
.”

I pushed past her and fled, exiting before my big mouth caused any more issues. Shutting myself in the sanctity of my car, I could feel angry tears threatening to escape me, but I bit them back. I would not let that snooty bitch make me cry. As much as I wanted to wave her infidelity in front of her upturned nose, Sam’s battle with his mother was his to fight, and I had no business opening that gangrenous wound.

“Are you sure we should bring beer to Trip’s?” Randall called from the back of the convenience store, holding a case of Dos Equis up over his head.

Loaded down with every kind of chip the place carried, I leaned to the side of the fountain drink display so that he could see me. “He’s cool with it. He said it makes him more uncomfortable to not have it around. It makes him feel like a party pooper.”

It was December twenty-first, and while some were celebrating Jesus’s birthday with their families, my chosen family and I were celebrating mine. Having a birthday so close to Christmas sucked when I was a kid. Most of my friends couldn’t come to my parties because we were on holiday break, and Trip got loads of presents twice a year, whereas mine came in one big cluster a few days apart.

Now as an adult, I kind of liked it. My college friends and I always used it as an excuse to party. Even in law school, when I’d grown more solitary, I could kick back and watch the snow fall with a glass of wine and a great book. It somehow seemed fitting that as the wheel of my life turned, another year was in its death throes.

“I’m pretty sure that being around a bunch of partiers isn’t recommended,” Patience (Randall’s fiancée) informed us, her dark eyes full of doubt. Patience was an elementary school teacher and a kick boxing enthusiast. She and Randall had been engaged for nearly two years, and they hadn’t set a date. I guess you could say she was aptly named.

“Trip insisted. He said if he is going to live sober, he wants to live. Not join a monastery in Tibet. Who am I to argue?”

“As long as we aren’t shoving him down a flight of twelve steps…” Randall shrugged and proceeded to the cash register. Both Patience and Randall had valid points, but I hadn’t asked Trip about liquor; he’d offered this information. “It was a party, after all,” he’d said, and he
was
the host. Trip made it clear he wasn’t going to provide booze—that would be opening Pandora ’s Box with a sledgehammer – but he had absolutely no problem with us bringing our own supply. Considering Annabelle was coming to the party, I figured I’d need some for medicinal purposes.

Taking Jayse’s advice, I’d kept my distance. Annabelle was not my idea of a one-nighter, but I was way too fucked up and disorganized to try to give her whatever it was she deserved. I was in no position to try my hand at dating for the first time since Vi. Not that Annabelle probably wanted anything to do with me since I’d turned down sex with her like I had. She probably thought I was a total pussy. I still kicked myself for walking away from
that
.

I was completely blown away when Trip told me she was coming to my party. I assumed since Violet was on the guest list, the motivation was matchmaking, not celebrating the blessed event of my entering the world. Still, seeing her and knowing she would likely ignore me all weekend, I’d need something to dull the ache in both my chest and my groin.

I was still obsessing about Annabelle twenty minutes later when we turned onto Trip’s private road. Randall whistled with admiration as he pulled into the driveway of the six bedroom beach house. My brother had bought it as a wedding present for Vi, but during the divorce, she told him to keep it. She already lived in the house they’d bought in Savannah, and I always figured that was reminder enough of the life she’d expected to have.

“Nothin’ like a beach party.” Patience eyed the house as she pulled her overnight bag from the trunk.

“Well, we won’t be skinny dipping, but sixty degrees is great grilling weather,” I replied, feeling a little bit foolish. Most thought it was pointless to go to Tybee when it was too cold for a dip in the ocean, but I loved the salty smell of the Atlantic. Whether it was the river or the sea, water had always been some sort of salve for my soul. I’d never needed the hydrotherapy quite so badly, and I was tempted to ditch my guests, take my bottle of single malt and hit the sand.

My week had been an exhausting one. I’d signed offers on both the riverfront condo and the vacant building my realtor claimed was in the slums. We were all set to close on both Monday morning. As promised, Marybeth had managed to get me the empty building for a song, and true to my word, I’d offered full price for the condo. When I declined her offer to go back to her place and celebrate, she boldly backed me against her office door and placed her hand squarely between my legs.

“Your loss, Sam,” she whispered in that raspy voice of hers. Part of me—a very hard, very specific part of me – agreed with her.

In addition to my real estate purchases, I’d hired Trip’s P.I. to do a little digging on Sebastian Wakefield. I told him budget wasn’t a concern and to spare no expense. He’d reported back to me just yesterday, and his investigation had produced very little that I couldn’t have found through business contacts and internet gossip. The P.I. looked particularly embarrassed when he told me he’d been made. Two nights before, Wakefield had strolled up and knocked on his car window. With his goons over each shoulder, he informed the private investigator to tell me he knew “what I was up to.” That brought a smile to my face. One of the things I’d counted on was Sebastian’s assumption that he was smarter than me. While his smug ass was telling off my P.I., my second investigator – the one he
didn’t
know about – proved to be a much better treasure hunter.

While my people had been busy stalking Wakefield, I’d signed the final documents for my trusts and consulted with my brokers to make some portfolio changes. I had liquidated all of my mediocre stock and after paying cash for both my condo and my Savannah building, I set orders in motion to start a foundation in Daddy’s name. I also filed paperwork to buy copious shares of stock through several shell companies my grandfather had founded for this type of purpose years before. I called a board meeting at Beaumont Enterprises that was scheduled for two weeks from yesterday. Together, Trip and I owned controlling interest. Though we hadn’t discussed it yet, I had no doubt he’d vote whatever way I asked him to. I was about to be a very busy, very wealthy man. Therefore, saying I needed to decompress was like saying you don’t want to let Mike Tyson near your ear.

The door swung open, and Jayse Monroe materialized before us. He let out a theatrical cry and using the porch as a stage, began a disturbing impersonation of Marilyn Monroe singing “Happy Birthday.” I could feel all the blood in my body rushing to my cheeks, and I would have paid serious money to bottle the look on Randall’s face. Patience cackled so uproariously that she nearly fell over. As the three of us applauded our serenader, I realized Annabelle was standing in the open doorway. Her eyes sparkled as she rested against the doorframe. Displaying her typical attitude, she smirked over at Jayse with her arms folded across her chest. Our gazes locked and held just long enough to make me blush a second time. A tiny smile tugged at her lips as she descended the stairs from the porch. It was almost impossible not to stare at her shapely legs so generously revealed by her gauzy pink dress. It made me think of the ballet, which led to a fantasy about a mirrored room and the barre, an interlude that I filed away for later.

“Annie! How’s it goin’?” Randall called to her.

“I’m good. Need me to carry something?” She passed within a foot of me and I felt the pull of her so intensely that for a second it was hard to breathe. Randall’s eyed me knowingly as he turned to her with several grocery bags full of chips.

“I can carry more than that!” She put her hands on her slim hips and cocked her head sideways at him.

“Be my guest, Honey. I just got my nails done,” Patience interjected, displaying her dragon lady talons before her. Jayse’s mouth formed in a silent “o,” and he claimed one of her hands for inspection, shoving her duffle bag at Annie who took it without a word. Annie blinked at Jayse as if ready to drop-kick him. Randall snatched Patience’s bag from Annie’s hands and cut his eyes sideways at his fiancée. Patience raised contrite eyebrows at him and then turned to Jayse with a “oh no he didn’t” shrug, which Jayse rewarded with a dimply grin.

As we lugged our supplies inside, Trip and Dale waved from the kitchen, where they were prepping enough food for an army.

“Jesus! Did you invite everyone I’ve ever met?” I asked. Trip laughed and nodded to the adjoining living room. Lounging on the sectional were two of my sorority brothers and their long-time girlfriends. Charles and Michael were the only guys in my frat I really considered friends. Both were in situations not so unlike mine – legacies who had always been interested in blazing trails of their own. Okay…so maybe I couldn’t officially call myself a legacy anymore, but old habits and whatnot. Chuck and Mike also stood out from that crowd as a couple of genuine human beings and we’d stayed in touch even after I went off to Harvard. I trusted both of them implicitly.

Leaving the others to mingle, I beckoned them both to help me stock the outdoor bar. As we unpacked my intoxicating bounty, I asked if they’d be interested in exploring a joint business venture. I skimmed over the details and they both nodded in agreement over their ice cold mugs of beer. I felt like I’d maintained my World Championship of Poker face. The intricate orchestrations I’d woven were holding tight. I promised to email them the detailed proposal early next week and insisted that we
not
discuss another word of business for the rest of the weekend.

We were finishing our second beer when Trip, resembling a modern day Bacchus, led the others outdoors in some sort of odd processional of culinary gifts. He’d had the smoker going since yesterday, but proceeded to add what looked like an entire cow’s worth of meat to the grill. Both Mike and Charles’ girlfriends giggled when my brother muttered some off-the-cuff joke, and I rolled my eyes at Randall. We had long commiserated about my brother’s inexplicable panty-dropping skills. Randall tried to bite back a grin. I turned back around to see Annabelle behind the bar with me. She lightly brushed against me as she popped the fridge open, passing drinks to Jayse and Dale.

“Happy Birthday, Sam,” she murmured in a very quiet, very unAnnie-like way.

“Thanks.” My heart hammered at the shy look in her eyes and the vivid memory of her straddling me like a cowgirl. Jayse and Dale took one look at us and vanished like an apparition.

“I’m the one who should be thanking
you
. Lola sold all my rubbings and she wants more. I need to reimburse you for what you paid Trip.” The sea breeze blew a strand of her golden hair between her lips as she spoke. Without thinking, I reached out and brushed it away, letting my thumb linger on her cheek. She looked up at me from under those impossibly long lashes, and I realized that we’d crossed a line in her bedroom that we’d never be able to come back from. And I had no regrets, a fact which seemed like the most astounding of all my recent revelations.