“I’ve got my shovel right here.” She shimmies her backside in my direction. “See that one over there?”
Following her gaze across the room, I see a man I know is one of the Landry brothers. There are four of them and two sisters, twins, if I’m not mistaken. I don’t really follow that kind of thing much, but they’re basically Georgia royalty, and even avoiding current events as I do, you can’t help but pick up on some of their lives. Every newscast, it seems, has something Landry-related even when it’s not election season.
“I’m going to check him out,” Lola says and takes off, leaving me standing with my tray of ridiculously overpriced champagne.
I roam the outer edges of the elegant ballroom, giving a practiced smile to each person that plucks a drink off the tray. Some smile widely, some try to chit-chat, some completely ignore me like they probably do the paid staff at home. It’s fine by me.
A few years ago, I attended events like this. Married to my college sweetheart, a newly minted judge in Albuquerque, we went to balls and galas and swearing-in ceremonies often. It was a magical time in my life, before the magic wore off and everything exploded right in my face.
“Well, aren’t you a pretty little thing?”
I spin to my right to see an older gentleman grinning at me like a snake ready to strike.
“Would you like a drink?” I offer, knowing good and well by the color in his cheeks that he’s already had more than enough.
“No, no, that’s fine. I was actually just admiring you.”
Pasting on a smile and tossing my shoulders back, I try to keep my voice even. “Thank you, sir. Now, if you’ll excuse me—”
“I was thinking,” he says, cutting me off, “how about you and I take a little stroll? Do you get my drift?”
“With all due respect,” I say through clenched teeth, glancing at the wedding ring sparkling on his finger, “how about you take a stroll with your wife?”
I swivel on my heels and head off as calmly as possible, blood roaring in my ears. I can hear his cackle behind me and I really want to turn around and slam my fist into his beefy face. It’s behavior that’s typical of people like this, thinking they can get away with whatever they want with the bourgeoisie. I just so happen to have an overdeveloped sensitivity to it, being that my husband did the same thing to me as soon as he got a little power.
Lola catches my attention as I pause to settle down. She points discreetly to the other end of the room and mouths, “Over there.” The gleam in her eye tells me she's spotted the mayor, but I can't see him.
I shuffle through the crowd and finally spy the man of the hour walking out, his arm around the waist of a woman that's been acting crazy all night. Her head is leaning on his shoulder, her hand resting on his backside. Laughing, I catch Lola's eye and nod to the exit.
"Bitch," she mouths as she approaches the same man that approached me earlier. I want to warn her, but don’t. For one, I know it won’t do any good, and for two, I can’t take my eyes off Landry.
People literally part for him to walk through. It's like he's Moses. They're more than willing to be led through the Red Sea, divided by his power and influence, and into the Promised Land.
I’m off in space about what precisely that land might entail, when my shoulder is bumped, rustling me out of my Landry-induced haze.
"Excuse me," I say. When I realize who I've just ignored, my cheeks heat in embarrassment. "I'm so sorry," I stutter, handing Camilla Landry, one of the Landry sisters, a glass of champagne.
She’s even more beautiful in person, a textbook example of poise and sophistication. In the media a lot for charity work with her mother, her face is easily identifiable with her high cheekbones and sparkling smile.
"Don't worry about it," she breathes, waving me off. "I can't take my brothers anywhere without women getting all mesmerized. Especially that one," she laughs, nodding to the doorway Barrett just went through. "Although, between me and you, I don't get it."
Her grin is infectious, and I can't help but return it.
"I'm Camilla," she says, extending her long, well-manicured hand like I don’t already know.
I balance the tray on one side and take her hand in mine. "I'm Alison. Alison Baker."
"You helped clean up a sauce spill earlier. You put the lady that had the accident at ease when you took the blame and kept the attention off her. I wanted you to know I saw and respected that."
"It really was no big deal.”
"In this world, everything can be a big deal. Trust me. You probably just saved my brother a couple of votes."
"Just doing my part," I laugh.
She smiles again, her chic sky-blue dress matching her eyes and heels. "Well, on behalf of the mayor, thank you. He seems . . . occupied, at the moment."
I wink. "I have no idea what you’re talking about. I didn't see a thing."
She nods, looking a touch relieved, and thanks me again before turning away and greeting the older lady from earlier, the one that spilled her dinner all over me. Camilla takes her hand and helps her into a chair.
Her elegance is breathtaking and she has a charm about her, an easiness even though she’s clearly blue-blood, that I’ve never seen before. It’s exactly what the kitchen is buzzing about with Barrett—a charisma you can’t quite put your finger on.
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CANE
If I close my eyes, maybe she’ll disappear.
“That was amazing. So good, Cane.”
Maybe not.
The woman nestled against me, her hand draping across my body. She stroked my skin, the intimacy of the action curling my stomach.
I switched on the bedside lamp, letting my eyes adjust to the bright light. Glancing at the clock, I pushed her hand away.
It’s not too late. She can still go home.
Sitting up, I swung my legs over the side of the bed; my body groaned in response. I stretched my arms overhead in an attempt to work some life back into my exhausted muscles.
This girl was a decent choice for a last minute decision. Memories of her contorted in a variety of wicked ways, screaming my name, made my dick harden again.
“Do you want me to get us something to eat?”
Her nails grazed down my back and I moved out of her reach. Her touch, like her voice, was more annoying than I remembered it being a few hours earlier.
That’s because I just dumped a load.
I twisted around. Her blonde hair was spread across my pillows, black makeup smeared across her face. A part of me wanted to tell her she looked like hell, but a bigger part of me didn’t care enough to point it out. I just needed her gone.
She rolled onto her back, cheap perfume wafting through the air.
I’m going to have to do laundry. Hell, I’ll probably just have to burn these sheets to get rid of that smell.
“I was thinking I would grab us some hamburgers. I could pick up some things for breakfast while I’m out.”
I cringed at the implications saturating her voice. “You’re going to need to tone that shit down.”
“What are you talking about?”