So what?
I’m sure he kisses plenty of girls. And I’m sure they all enjoy it, too. Nothing I should let myself get too worked up over. I’m not special.
After a stop in town to grab a quick salad at The Dirty, I’m just pulling the car into the main garage at the Manor when Colton appears again, walking in behind me as I park. He looks considerably grungier now than he did this morning. His hands are covered with grease, and there are smudges on his face and arms. And his neck is damp with sweat. And he’s lost the cowboy hat.
But he still looks damn good.
He wipes his hands on a towel and watches me as I get out. I grab my enormous bags from the passenger seat and set them beside the car.
“Thanks for the loaner.” I hand him the keys. “I topped off the tank for you.”
He nods. “Need any help?”
Why not? “Um, actually, if you don’t mind taking these bags so I can get the rest of the stuff, that’d be great.”
He shrugs. “Sure.”
I get my things from the trunk, and we start walking toward the cottage.
“So, painting supplies, huh?” he finally says. “That’s what you needed to take the road trip for.”
Wow, nothing gets past him.
“Just some stuff I need,” I mumble.
“You paint?”
I shrug nonchalantly. “Just something I like to do for fun when I’m bored. No big deal.”
He glances inside one of the bags. “Oil on canvas?”
I nod. “You working on a car today?” I ask, trying to change the subject.
“Yeah. So how long have you been painting?”
So much for that idea.
“I guess on and off almost my whole life. It’s just a hobby, really.” I cringe inwardly at my deprecating words, but I don’t want him to know how important this is to me.
“That’s cool. But doing something your whole life— that seems like more than just a hobby. That’s more like a calling… a passion.”
We’ve reached the porch, and I lean the easel and canvases next to the door while I fumble for my keys.
I finally find them and manage to get the door open. “Thanks.” I take the bags from him and set them inside.
I pause a moment. The way he’s looking at me…
But he just gives me a small, tight grin. “You’re welcome. Enjoy your day.”
Chapter 19.
The next several days seem to pass in a blur. Work is better than I had imagined, but not for the reasons I’d hoped. It is becoming soul-crushingly apparent to me that I have zero interest in working in the legal profession at all. None. Zilch. I’m more than happy to help Sheldon get his case load sorted out for now, but whenever he asks me to do some legal research or even help him write a brief, it’s like a slow poison starts seeping it way through my veins, and I just want the task to be over with as quickly as possible.
I wonder why this is. Even though I know I got into law for the wrong reason— Brandon— I still liked it fine enough at the time, and actually found many parts to be pretty interesting. But I’m realizing I never had a real passion for it, more of a tolerance. It was a lot more glamorous with Brandon by my side, and my bright shiny future laid out in front of me.
But with that gone, all I feel now is at best an indifference. I’m much happier spending my days simply organizing the chaotic files and updating the computer records. But I know Sheldon needs my help in all arenas, and he’s paying me quite handsomely for it. So I keep a smile on my face and give him my best effort.
I haven’t spoken to Colton in almost a week now. In fact, I’ve barely seen him, except occasionally outside my window as he goes in and out of The Grease Monkey. Our paths haven’t really crossed at all, and I can’t help but wonder if it’s coincidence or by design. Maybe he regrets what happened.
And maybe it’s for the best anyway. I’d like to say that I’ve stopped thinking of him… of that night. But I’d be lying.
There’s certainly no point in dwelling on it, however. So I’m just going on with my life. And I’m kind of liking the little routine I’m carving out for myself here. I do my morning yoga, go to my job, paint in the evenings –outdoors while there’s still sunlight, indoors when there’s not – talk with Stacia or hang with Vivi. And bake some desserts for Willie. Often I sit with him on the porch while he does his carvings and we chat about life in general. He’s such a sweet, wise old man, and I’m growing quite fond of him.
Who needs Colton Lassiter anyway?
On one particularly beautiful afternoon the following week, I hurry home from work, eager to catch the last few hours of sunlight. I think I’ll be finishing up my first piece tonight – a landscape with the Three Fates fountain and the surrounding gardens, with a bit of the house in the background.
Even I’m amazed at how well it’s turning out; the rich blend of colors exactly catching the vibrancy I was hoping to achieve. Considering I haven’t done much in the past several years, I’m surprised at how easily it’s all coming back to me. When I paint, hours pass like seconds, and my only regret is when it gets dark and I have to take my work inside. But on the weekends I have all day, and it’s heaven.
On occasion I see Colton going to or from his place, but we don’t really talk. I get a rush whenever I see him, but I quickly squash it down. There’s no point. Nothing good can come from it. So I focus on other things instead.
I walk past the fountains and turn the corner. But when I catch sight of my place, I stop dead in my tracks.
“Oh, shit.”
My mother is sitting on the front porch. She narrows her eyes and quickly stands up, brushing back her silken blonde hair. “Well, finally. For land’s sakes, I’ve been waiting.”
I just stare at her. “What are you doing here?” This is so not how I was hoping to spend my evening!
“Manners, Cadence. I know you have them, even if you refuse to use them. Let’s go inside and get out of this God-awful humidity. I don’t know how you stand it.”
“Actually, today’s been pretty nice.” At least it was… I reluctantly open the door.
My mother looks around and takes a seat on the couch. “Well, I suppose it could be worse here,” she says.
Coming from her, that’s actually a pretty big compliment.
I kick off my shoes and go into my room to change out of my work attire. “Not that I’m not thrilled, obviously, but what brings you by?” I call back out to her. “Thought you and Dad were somewhere in Prague right around now.”
A few moments later I pad back into the living room wearing a tank and some shorts, and sit in the chair across from her.
“I hope you are wearing sunscreen, Cadence. You know how you freckle, and you don’t want to look like an old handbag by the time you’re thirty, do you?”
“Only if it’s a Birkin,” I reply.
“Very cute. If you ever answered your phone or bothered to listen to any of my messages, you would know that your father and I had to cut our trip short because a former colleague of his died last week. They were quite close, and he wanted to go to the funeral. It’s in Miami the day after tomorrow.”
“So… what, you thought you’d just stop by on your way to say hello? And where’s Dad?”
“Your father went on ahead. I’ll be meeting him down there tomorrow.”
Oh, great. At least when Dad’s around I feel like I kind of have someone on my side. Not much, but better than nothing.
“So why are you here, exactly?” I ask quietly. I haven’t seen her in person since right after the night, and we’ve literally exchanged less than twenty words since.
Mother narrows her eyes as she looks me over. “Put on something presentable, and let’s go somewhere for dinner. We need to talk.”
*****
I’ve been here a month and only eaten at The Dirty, so I’m not sure where we can go. Because I’m certainly not taking her there. I love the food, the vibe, the people… everything. No way am
I letting her ruin it.
I flip through the restaurant app on my phone. “What do you want? Sushi, Italian…”
Mother waves a dismissive hand. “Some place where I can order something that isn’t deep fried and dipped in butter. No fried green anything. No grungy bar food. A nice salad, preferably with some fresh salmon.”
I roll my eyes and scroll through. “Okay, here’s a place— about twenty minutes away in the next town over— Stone Creek. Has good ratings.”
“Fine.”
I change again, then she and I head out in her rental car. The sleek Cadillac was sitting right out front when I drove up earlier, but I had assumed it belonged one of the guests. If I’d known, I probably would’ve just turned around and not gone home at all.
But that brings up another question. “Where are you staying tonight?” I ask her.
“Here. At the Manor. My room is all set up.” She glances over at me. “But don’t worry, I’m leaving first thing in the morning and I’ll be out of your hair.”
“Who’s worried?” I mutter, staring out the window.
The GPS guides us to the upscale steak and seafood restaurant, and I’m surprised to see that it sits right next to a fairly large lake. The sun is just starting to set and the view is stunning, and terribly romantic. Too bad it’s being wasted on us.
The interior is just as charming. It’s dimly-lit, and the entire back of the restaurant is made of clear glass that looks out over the water. It’s fairly busy for a weeknight, which I take as a good sign. We’re still able to get a great seat by the window, and when the waiter asks if I’d like anything to drink I order some wine without hesitation. I’m tempted to ask for the whole bottle, but I do have to work in the morning.
We place our orders, and I nibble on some of the bread from the basket while we wait. My mother looks at me with disapproval. “You know that goes right to your waist. Haven’t you read Wheat Belly like I told you to?”
“It’s next on my list,” I murmur, and reach for some butter. Then I take a deep breath, followed by a big gulp of wine. “Okay, Mother, out with it. Why are you really here?”
She sits up straight and takes a dainty sip of her Chablis. Then she locks her emerald eyes on me. “I want to know exactly where you stand, now that things have calmed down some and you’ve had a chance to cool off.”
It’s like she’s speaking a different language. I hear words coming from her mouth, but they don’t make any sense.
“Now that I’ve had a chance to cool off?” I repeat slowly.
She raises an arched eyebrow. “You were upset… and I suppose it’s understandable. Emotions run high sometimes, and we can all say and do things we regret on occasion. But hopefully you’ve had some time now to come to your senses and realize it’s not worth sacrificing your entire future over. It’s beyond ridiculous, really. You can have everything you want. Why throw it away?”
I stare at my glass of wine wishing I could transmute it to tequila. Or transmute her into a bird that will fly far away from here if I chuck something at it.
“I’m not throwing away my future, Mother. I’m making a new life for myself. Maybe it’s not the one you want for me, or for you, but that other life is gone… dead. Let it go.”
“It’s only dead if you want it to be, and if you give up—”
“Give up? Give up what exactly?” I snap, a bit louder than I intend, and I notice the diners at the next table glance my way. I take a deep breath.
Stay cool, Cady. She’s just being her. Don’t freak.
“Mother,” I continue, my voice quiet and under control. “Brandon is gay. Not just a little ‘oops, I drank too much and screwed around with a frat brother’ gay, but like, born that way, known his whole life, and is madly in love with his best friend, gay.”
She opens her mouth to speak, but I cut her off. “And let’s not forget the fact that he assaulted me. He put his hands on my throat and slammed me up so hard to the wall I almost passed out. All the while screaming at me, while his precious lover was threatening not only my life, but the lives of people I care about. Including you and Dad.”
She grimaces and looks down at her own glass of wine. “Like I said, emotions run high and people can say and do things they regret. Both of them were scared. Traumatized really. You put them in a terrible position.”
“I put— Do you think what happened was my fault?” I don’t care if people do stare. I’m ready to storm out of here right now.
“Calm down, Cadence, I’m not blaming you, or anyone. It was an unfortunate situation, but it doesn’t have to mean the end of anything for anyone, so long as cooler heads prevail in the end. Now I can understand you wanting to get away for a spell. We all need a little break from our lives now and again. But obviously running away isn’t the answer, and you need to go home. You need a plan. Being out here, all this… this is not a plan. This is just you hiding from your real life.”
I take another deep breath and a sip of my wine.
“So what is your plan for me, Mother? What do you think I should do?” As if I even have to ask.
The waiter returns with our salads, and I try to clear my head of the rage that’s boiling up inside.
She drizzles her vinaigrette lightly over the greens and tosses them with her fork. “If you want to stay here through the summer, fine… take your sabbatical. Everyone understands. But at the end of August, you go back home. And you make up with Brandon, and you get married as planned.”
I shake my head and give a humorless chuckle under my breath as I stare out the window. This woman is truly deranged.
She puts down her fork and sighs. “Cady… please hear me out.”
I look back at her. I’ve never heard her use this tone before, and even her expression is different. I wait.
She takes a sip of her wine. “Okay, look. I know what happened to you was a shock, and probably quite heartbreaking. Devastating, I imagine, since he’s the only boy you’ve ever loved. It must be quite a blow to your ego to find he prefers men to you.”
I know she’s attempting to sound sympathetic, but she’s failing miserably.
I return my gaze out the window at some ducks and hope she wraps it up soon.
“But I want you to listen to me very carefully. If you throw away your future over this, you will regret it forever. So he prefers men. So what? There’s more to marriage than just romance. It can still be great. It can still be a real friendship, and partnership. They are both trapped. Brandon can never go public, and neither can Christian. Especially Christian. My God, that man’s whole career and fortune is tied up in his ability to get young girls turned on! His whole future is at risk if the truth ever comes out.”
I shake my head. “Nobody even cares about that anymore. So they’re gay. So what. Neither of their lives are over. Not by a long shot.”
“Oh, Cadence, don’t be naïve. You know perfectly well that just because people say they feel a certain way, or even if they really want to feel a certain way, it doesn’t mean they actually do. For some people this lifestyle would not be a problem. In fact it might even help. But not for these two, and you know it.”
I think for a moment. “I mean... Okay, I can see why it would affect Christian; he’s so famous and all, and he’s got that sexy bad-boy, action star, ladies’ man thing going on. But why would anyone care about Brandon?”
My mother’s eyes flash, and she takes another sip of wine and leans forward, her voice lower. “Because even though Jamison is only governor now—and yes, he will definitely win re-election, as his popularity is soaring— there are many powerful people who want to see him in the White House, and things are already in motion to that affect. It’s a few years off, but it’s almost a done deal that he’ll be the nominee. At the very least, he’ll have the full weight of the party behind him.”
I signal down the waiter and tap my glass for a refill as my mother nibbles on her salad.
“I still don’t understand why it even matt
ers,” I mumble. “So his son is gay… seriously, so what? No one cares.” Except me. But I have a damn good reason to.
“Yes they do. And it can be a distraction. Worse, he could be made to suffer from mudslinging and vicious attacks from bigots. His father’s opponents could spy on him trying to dig up dirt and discover the truth about him and Christian. Any way you slice it, he suffers. Is that really what you want for him? To have his whole life on display for people to judge, mock, and ridicule? How would you feel if it was you?”
She knows that last question will land because I’ve always been very reserved, even shy, when it comes to the public. I’d be beyond mortified if any details of my private life were to be exposed for others to gossip about. Not that there’s anything all that juicy, but still.
The waiter appears with our meals and delivers them with a flourish. I have to admit it all looks amazing. Too bad I’ve totally lost my appetite.
I aimlessly poke at my potato while my mother takes a bite of her salmon. “This is delicious.” She rolls her eyes in approval. “I’m surprised such a small town out in the sticks can do a decent seafood!”
“Mind blowing,” I murmur.
We eat in relative silence. I think about what she said, but it changes nothing. I was never planning on telling anyone about Christian and Brandon, and not just because of their awful threats, either. But it saddens me to think just how much of Brandon’s life will be a total lie, and largely through no fault of his own. He didn’t choose for his dad to be a political big shot. And he and Christian were close long before Christian had visions of Hollywood in his eye. Maybe under different circumstances Brandon’s life could’ve been different.
But the circumstances are what they are, and no way am I going to throw away my life perpetuating that fraud.
I watch my mother finish her meal, and part of me suspects she’s not done with me yet.
She waits until the waiter has brought us our after-dinner drinks to drop the other shoe.
“I’ve been authorized to make you a deal,” she says.
I let out a deep sigh. “Let’s hear it, Mephistopheles.”
The Dirty South Page 13
