by K. F. Breene
“Is Adam wearing a silk shirt?” I gasped.
“At least its deep blue,” Lump said, a furrow to her brow. “He sweats, though. He’s going to look ridiculous at the end of the night.”
I turned around and stared at Lump. “He is wearing a silk shirt, Lump. This is Adam we are talking about.”
“Where’s his thick gold chain?” Brad scoffed.
“Exactly!” I shook my head and turned back.
“That must be the new girl,” Brad said, nodding his head toward a tiny woman basically pressed against Adam’s side.
“The small one?” Lump asked, elongating her neck to get a look.
“It’s like a pixy with the jolly green giant.” I couldn't help but laugh. She literally was half his size and incredibly dainty, her straight yellow hair coiffed perfectly around her face.
“She’s cute.” Brad shrugged.
“Eh.” I waved the comment away.
“Stop being so haughty. She’s cute. You just don’t like her because she’s competition.”
“She’s not competition.” Was she? Did William prefer the small, sweet, delicate types?
“He doesn’t,” Lump said, reading my mind before going back to her beer with an indifferent look.
“He doesn’t what?” Brad asked.
“Jess was wondering if William wanted one of those types of girls instead of her.”
“Oh no way,” Brad said, “That’s not at all what I was talking about. You’re hands down hotter. I’m just saying that women think other women are competition.”
“You need to hang out with more quality women,” Lump reflected.
It was then that Adam joined us. He stood behind Lump with his girl lightly pulled into his body. She barely came up to his chest.
“Jessica, may I introduce you to Elise?” Adam asked politely, and completely unlike himself.
“Uh…sure?”
“Eloquent response,” Lump muttered at me with a smirk.
“Jessica, this is my friend Elise. Elise, this is Jessica, William’s girlfriend.”
Since when did Adam call William by his full name?
“Charmed,” the pixie said, nodding delicately.
Charmed?
“Hi. Nice to have you join us.” I nodded. I probably should have stood up…but I didn’t. Too lazy.
“You know Brad, of course,” Adam continued.
Was it just me, or was Adam trying to speak with less of an accent, and with more literature approved sentences and words? Where was the ain’t I knew and loved?
“Yes. Hello Bradley.”
Bradley?
Lump smiled wickedly and looked up at Brad through her eyelashes. Brad noticed and turned a fantastic shade of tomato-red.
“And this is Betsy, but we call her Betz.”
Lump did a quick eye-roll, but stood up, turned with the grace of a ballerina, and extended her hand. She dwarfed Elise in both height, grace and beauty! Plus, if all else failed, she could totally kick her ass. I was proud of my friend.
“Hello Betsy.” Elise nodded her head slightly and smiled.
“If you wouldn’t mind, I would prefer to be called Betz or Lump. I got picked on often as a child with the name Betsy.”
“Oh!” It was more a breath than a word. Elise put her hand to her chest as if she insulted royalty and couldn’t bear it. “I do so apologize!
Lump smiled. “Think nothing of it.”
“But… Lump?”
Lump smiled again. “Would you care to sit down? I will tell you the story.”
Adam was looking at Lump like she was a puzzle. It seemed like he sensed a trick. Being that he also didn’t want to separate from his woman for some reason, he pulled the chair out for Elise, which she expected, then sat beside her. Brad nodded in welcome.
Lump settled back down and explained, “I hated my name since I was old enough to know it. My mother loved it for some completely unknown reason, and my two brothers thought it was the most terrible name on the planet. My father hated it, too, which allowed my brothers to get away with all the name-calling. One day, when I was old enough to fight back, though still not big enough to win, I gave my oldest brother the meanest black-eye anyone could remember. My father was so proud of me for fighting back—for giving my brother the lump he deserved—I was called Lump by everyone in the dojo. I wore it like a badge of pride. And because I also hated my real name, I kept that name.”
“My goodness—quite a violent past,” Elise responded, hand still to her heart.
Lump kept herself from looking at Adam, but I didn’t. He was slightly ridged and definitely uncomfortable. But holding.
“First time I heard that story,” I said to cut the tension.
"And here I always thought you more curious than that," Brad reflected.
“I didn’t realize,” Adam said around his woman, ignoring Brad and me. “I should be calling you Lump.”
Lump shrugged. “Betz is fine. Doesn’t sound so bad with a twang.” She laughed, ignoring Adam’s sorrowful eyes. “Plus, if I told Gladis not to call me Betz she’d throw a cup at me.”
“Another cup at you,” I added, laughing with her.
“Speaking of cups. Adam? Would you be so kind as to get me a drink?” Elise asked.
“O’course,” Adam said, jumping up immediately. “Would anyone else care for a drink?”
“I would care for one a great deal, thank you, sir,” Brad responded with a grin.
Adam flashed Brad a frown, which had Brad rethinking his taunting.
“Yes Adam, if it wouldn’t be too much trouble, I would also greatly care for a drink. Thank you, kindly,” I wasn't worried about taunting in the least.
“Yes please, Adam. Thanks,” Lump said without a hint of mocking in her voice, but with that wicked twinkle in her eye.
Adam walked away, shaking his head.
“So, what do you do, Elise?” Lump started.
“Oh, I do a lot of charity work. I am also the head planner for fund raisers at my social club. It keeps me busy!”
So… she had a ton of money, then. Didn’t need to work. Figured. Adam slummed it with us poor gals, talked about working hard, but for girlfriend material he went for the wealthy. It was a reminder I didn’t need or want. It was a different world, and even stinkin’ Adam was in it.
And here I’d thought he’d been on my side! Double-standard!
I got a glare from Lump. She was too good by far at reading my insecurities.
The night progressed in polite words and subtle eye rolls. I was trying my damnedest to like Adam’s girl, but we had absolutely nothing in common. I mean, the girl liked needle point! What the hell was the point in making pictures on a piece of fabric? For pillows? Who did that outside of Jane Austen?
Lump hated her, too, but was the model of politeness. She chatted amicably and came up with conversation when everyone else was stumped. And because of it, Adam brought Elise to Lump every chance he could.
Adam was never much of a conversationalist, preferring to joke or just sit in silence—he called it sitting at rest. But his woman thought that rude, and since he was doing everything in his power to please her, including following her around like a servant, getting her drinks, napkins, or whatever the hell else she wanted, he constantly steered the little woman to Lump. He wasn’t even shy about it—he was relieved someone could figure out what to talk to her about.
Besides that, he only said “ain’t” once. It was that once that made him the laughing stock of the group.
Brad, Lump and I were sitting at our designated table. William was chatting with Lump’s man, who didn’t need his hand held 24/7 and was actually kind of cool for once—he’d been around about two and a half weeks—over at the bar, and Adam had just come over with Elise. Elise chose a chair next to me, stood behind it, and waited until Adam came over to pull it out for her. The deal seemed to be that she would have a gentleman or Adam would lose his balls. Adam was complying as best he could.
/> Since Elise was at the end of the table, Adam went to the other side and sat next to Lump. They’d been in each other’s presence all night, since Lump was apparently Elise’s babysitter, but they’d never sat next to each other, by design. Keeping his woman happy changed even that.
“Those boys are discussing bulls,” Elise said by way of greeting in her elevated southern accent. “I tried to hang in for as long as was polite, but it is a dangerous past-time. I just couldn’t continue to listen to Willie speaking about it. I just don’t know how his parents let him keep on with it.”
“Oh now, it ain’t that bad,” Adam responded, picking at his beer label uncomfortably.
It was like the air turned solid; thick with expectation. I knew that Adam would have rather stayed with William and talked bulls. I also knew that Adam had done something wrong. The former because Adam kept glancing over in longing. The latter because Elise was looking at Adam fixedly.
It took a second before Adam caught on. When he did, he looked at her like a whipped dog. “Beggin’ your pardon for the slang,” He apologized.
Following her around like a puppy was one thing. Moving chairs and getting things might be necessary to get some pu-nawny, so I didn’t begrudge him that. But this had just gotten out of hand. It seemed like Adam was trying to convince us all he was just as polite and delicate as the girl he brought around, and castrating himself in the process.
I couldn’t explain my anger—I didn’t even know where it welled up from. It might have been that Adam always, without question, stood up for me. Maybe it was that he protected me, and looked after me, like I was his blood instead of his friend’s girlfriend. Or maybe I just didn’t like what this woman represented because it was everything I was not.
Whatever the reason, my hackles rose and I was ready to throw down. I opened my mouth to cause some serious, and grave, offense, but Lump beat me to it.
“No harm done, Adam,” Lump said in a pleasant voice. You had to listen closely to realize the tone was like a pink knife on a whetstone.
Brad’s eyes snapped to Lump, wide. My small hairs stood on end.
Lump was not fucking around. Elise had just crossed the line.
Eyes looking at her beer in faux indifference, she continued speaking to Adam. “We’ve been listening to the pride of the south in your accent since we’ve made an acquaintance. I’d hate to lose it now. I might forget where I am.” Lump raised her eyes up to Elise.
It was clear Elise was about to, politely, rebuff Lump. Then she got the look.
I don’t care who you are, if you got that look from Lump, you not only deserved it, but you either put up or shut up. You backed down or you fought it out.
I’d tried to fight it out once. In Mexico, actually. I ended up in the pool with everyone laughing at me. Lump did not care that I was too drunk to get out on my own and had to be rescued by the hotel staff, I'd done something stupid--to this day I have no idea what--and she set matters straight.
There was no way Elise was going to fight it out. Instead, she ruffled her napkin and said, “Well, yes, I can see what you mean. I’m so sorry, Adam. If you will excuse me, I need to powder my nose.”
Adam stared after her a minute, then said, “No need to go scarin’ her, Betz. She didn’t mean nothin’ by it.”
“Well,” Brad said, staring at Lump and saying in a voice like John Wayne, “I ain’t afraid of you none, Lump-O.”
I laughed as Adam said, “Who you tryin’ to fool. You was shittin’ yer pants.”
“Yeah, Bradley,” I mocked.
“I’m going to go talk to the boys, where I get a little respect.” Brad sniffed dramatically.
“Only to your face!” I yelled after him.
“You shouldn’t ’a done it, Betz. But thanks. You, neither, Jessica. I know what your face looks like right ‘afore you explode. It’s just…she’s used to an affluent family. She thinks, rightly, that slang makes a guy sound uneducated.”
“Stupid comments are what makes a guy seem uneducated,” Lump corrected, back to studying her beer label.
“Yeah, well, I was just tryin’ ta—“
“—get laid. We know,” I interrupted.
Adam’s face went red and he shook his head, a small smile curling his lips. “Think I’m going to go join the guys.”
After he was gone Lump said, “If he was out to prove he could put up with a lot of shit, then point proven.”
“Didn’t think you would jump to his defense,” I said evenly, purposely watching William lean against the bar so Lump didn’t think I was implying anything. William’s perfect chest was pointed my way so I admired his pecks while Lump stared at the side of my face.
When she was convinced I wasn’t up to mischief, she said, “Adam is a good friend of Willie’s, and Willie treats my best bud like a princess. Adam is, therefore, one of my good friends, once removed. I don’t let people treat my friends like that.”
“Plus, Adam is probably putting up with a lot of shit so you don’t think he’s a monster.”
“And that, yeah.”
“He isn’t, though. You know—a monster…”
“Don’t start.”
I shrugged. I wasn’t in the mood to go swimming with my clothes on.
Later that night, in a moment of insecurity, I asked William if he liked Elise better than me. She was subtle and polite and petite and rich. I was told not to be dumb—he liked the loud, irritating, bitchy, Amazon types—I was perfect.
Adam apparently met her through some family friends. She was from Georgia, or maybe South Carolina? I wasn't listening that closely. They’d met a couple weeks ago and hit it off right away. That’s what William said, anyway.
I held my tongue on that one. I’d noticed that William had avoided her all night. He was a great conversationalist, and just as polite, but to him, like us, it was effort, and he didn’t like hanging out with friends to be work.
It was something no one wanted to admit to Adam.
Chapter Twenty
Work was going well. It was getting close to year end so tensions were running high. We had to get the year-end close in order, and start getting our things straight for the eventual audit. The company was performing solidly, though, and we would be getting bonuses if the numbers panned out. There were even talks of expansion in the near future, which meant William might have to travel, but it wasn't for sure yet.
It wasn’t long before the big news came that Ty was going to ask Candace to marry him! Men did love to gossip. I was thinking Ty would ask at Christmas time when the families were all together, but Candace had it in her head for next year, so I didn't say anything.
Candace, like most modern women, wanted a ring she liked, but wanted to be surprised when he proposed. Ty, like most modern men, didn’t have a clue about jewelry, so knowing what Candace liked was next to impossible. Conundrum.
We, meaning Lump and I, decided we’d go with Candace, help her pick out a ring, show the final product to Adam and William who would relay the information to Ty. Which was the second plan I suggested. Because I'm brilliant.
I have no idea why I got scoffs when I pointed that out.
The day of the great ring pick-out we all met at Adam's to give him more time to do farm crap. It was the first time I’d been there, so I was interested to see what kind of place he lived in. William called it nosey. I reminded him that opinions were like assholes; everyone had one and they all stunk, so he could shove it up his hole.
Lump laughed from the back of the car.
We pulled into Adam’s moderate sized house on the edge of the city. It had a big yard—about an acre apparently—with landscaping and grass and trees and other lovely yard things. He even had a lawn jockey! That had been a joke gift from William when Adam bought the place, and Adam thought it was funny enough to keep around.
We parked next to a shiny Mercedes, or “Merc” as Adam called it, and filed out.
“I thought he had a ranch,” Lump said, looking ar
ound.
“He does,” William answered, waiting for us to have a look around before heading to the expansive porch with two rocking chairs next to the door. “It’s way out of town. There’s a ranch house on it, and while it’s livable, it’s not all that comfortable.”
“Why?” Lump asked, walking around the grass.
“Needs a new roof, a new furnace, and some interior fixing. It’s more for the ranch hands to have a place to eat lunch and rest than anything.”
“I feel like I’m on an episode of the Lifestyles of the Rich and Famous. Two houses, nice cars, employees…”
William looked around with consternation. It wasn’t nearly as much as his family had, so he wasn’t quite sure what Lump was talking about. He did know, though, that Adam didn’t identify with his money. He had it, and he made it prosper, but he’d got it from a father he hated and nearly killed once—saying thank you for the handout was a tough pill to swallow.
“If your parents sold their house in California, they could probably buy the ranch and this house with the money,” I moderated.
“How do you figure?” Lump asked, looking at a garden gnome.
“Your parent’s house probably goes for about a million, right?”
“A million?” William asked, leaning against the car.
“William, don’t be dense—California real estate is insane. It’s a four-bedroom home with a two-car garage in a nice neighborhood. It’s no mansion—“
“Not even close!” Lump interrupted.
“—but it’s worth about a million for where it’s at in LA.”
“You couldn’t buy both this house and Adam’s ranch with that—Adam has expanded a great deal in the last few years—he’s turning a great profit and investing wisely. You couldn’t buy both, no.” William’s eyes got distant as he did numbers in his head. “But you could certainly buy a great deal out here. Three of these houses, probably.”
“Can we just go in, now?” Lump asked.
William shrugged. I could tell he was wondering why Lump was so put off by all this. I was, too. Something was eating away at her, but damned if I knew what. Now was not the greatest time to ask.
