by ML Nystrom
Stud moved me to the blue room he wanted me in by taking my pack there himself and daring Jameson to say something. I thought Mr. Roboto’s eyebrows would take root in his hairline. He didn’t protest, however, just an eye twitch as he left us alone. I managed to nap a bit, laid out on the ginormous bed. The blue room connected to Stud’s “chambers” via a shared bathroom. We “lower sort” call that a jack and jill. I bet the upper crust call it something else.
Later that night, I sat before the antique vanity table and stroked the last coat of mascara over my lashes, leaning back to check the final results. My eyes looked bigger and brighter with the silver and smoke colored eye shadows Molly had found for me at Psalm’s shop. However, instead of curling my hair and teasing it into a big halo as she had suggested, I ironed it flat and let it hang straight down my bare back like a shimmering curtain. My dress, I had designed for me and my body. Molly let me raid her fabric closet for the material, and with her help in cutting and fitting, I was able to finish it in a day. The halter-style top fastened around my neck leaving my shoulders, back, and arms bare. This showed off my hard body quite well. The long skirt came just below my ankles and was slightly A line, making my body long and lithe. It had a long front spilt that opened and closed when I walked. The color was a deep forest green that had a light iridescence that shimmered when I moved. I liked my dress and felt really good wearing it. I was still sore from the accident and my thigh ached a bit as I was building my strength back up. I wished I could have worn my fabulous silver Jimmy Choos and maroon LBD, but they were currently in Wilmington with Connor and Da. Thankfully, Molly had a closet full of heels and we were the same size. This was the moment in life I had hoped for, to be Princess Eva. Beautiful Eva. I didn’t really have a name for her as I’d never been her before.
A knock on the shared door startled me enough to make me jump. I was nervous as hell but trying not to show it. Stud was on edge as well. He was wound tight like a coiled spring, and I thought he would snap at any minute. I hoped Smartass Eva was enough to help him get through the night. I was to meet his grandmother, the only person he really wanted to see and the only reason we’d come to this event.
I heard the door open and Stud filled the frame. My breath stopped for a moment at how he looked. The handsome Viking biker was still there, but decked out in a fitted black tuxedo. He was fastening a cuff link that winked burnished gold. When he turned to close the door, I spotted the gold clasp he used to pull back his hair into a brushed ponytail at the nape of his neck. Jesus, Mary, and Joseph, he was hot! I felt myself flush with color.
“You ready for this, sweetheart?” he asked, meeting my eyes with his. I could drown in the blue.
“Yeah, I’m good,” I said, more breathily than I should have. I smiled and stood up. “Let’s go see Grandma!”
Stud fiddled with his cuff link, trying not to think about Eva and the fact that her bed was only a few feet away. The dress she wore was the stuff of dreams, showing off her curves and her tight body. The slit in the skirt draped back, showing her super toned legs. Many women in this social circle spent hours in the gym with personal trainers and huge amounts of money on plastic surgery to get bodies like Eva’s. She simply worked at her job. What was even more amazing was that she didn’t even know how beautiful and sexy she was. He’d seen Vannie looking at her earlier during that damnable lunch where his mother had ambushed him. He frowned when he spotted the edge of the still-red scar on her thigh. He knew she would probably be hurting before the night was over, but the woman was damn stubborn.
She stood up from the vanity, her skirt swishing into place and the heels putting her nearly at his height.
“Yeah, I’m good. Let’s go see Grandma,” she said, her voice low and husky in a way that shot straight to his dick.
Fuck! He was glad she was here. He hadn’t realized how much he’d come to enjoy and need her company. He slipped up at lunch and said the “L” word. It startled him that it came out of his mouth as naturally as it had.
He tipped up her chin with an index finger and covered her lips lightly with his, and paused, taking in her taste. Cherry. She was wearing lip balm instead of some expensive designer lipstick. The symbolism was not lost on him.
The kiss was brief and he folded her into his arms, feeling her strength and support blend into his.
“You look stunning, Eva. Thank you for being here with me. I couldn’t do this without you,” he said, meaning every word.
She squeezed him back, her face soft with meaning. “No problem, Stud. I wouldn’t want to be anywhere else tonight but here. Now let’s get to this fancy shindig! I’m hungry. Should’ve got that pizza earlier.”
He chuckled and scooped up the gift bag as they left the room. He held her hand on the way down the steps to face the coming stress known as his family.
Fifteen
We made our way to the garden where the party was to take place. The fountains were burbling quietly and a string quartet was tuning up at one corner of the veranda. Waiters in black and white were loading up the buffet tables with food trays that looked more like art than food and those big bins that had the little cups of blue flame under them to keep the contents warm. I didn’t know what they were called, but I always thought those things looked cool. Strings of lights cast a pretty glow in the fading sun, but nothing could soften the cold, rigid look of the plant beds. I still thought they looked plastic.
Abigail wanted to set up a receiving line to greet the guests who had begun to arrive, and made it clear this was for family only and I wasn’t a part of it. I saw Stud burr up for an argument, but I managed to defuse it by saying I needed to sit anyway and give my leg as much rest as possible. My leg was fine, but he bought the story.
“Stay where I can see you,” he growled.
I nodded, grabbed a glass of wine from a nearby waiter, and sat at a table on the veranda where Stud had a clear view of me. I put the gift bag down on the table so he could see that too. Tension showed in the tightness of his face and shoulders. He looked at me and gave me a chin lift to ask if I was okay. I rolled my eyes and raised my glass at him. I’m good. Go play rich people! As if he heard me, he smiled his half smile, closed his eyes, and shook his head slightly. I hoped I could keep up and survive the night. Can you say guppy in a shark tank?
I sipped at the wine, trying not to grimace. Wine has never been my thing, and this one was nasty. Give me a good beer any day over this stuff. Since I knew only one person at the party who would ever talk to me and he was currently occupied, I spent the next bit of time people watching. The men were dressed mostly in tuxes, but a few were in expensive looking suits. I had the feeling these were custom-tailored ones, not the ones my brothers would buy off the rack at a discount warehouse to wear under protest at funerals or weddings. Slicked-back or styled hair, clean-shaven faces; a lot of them looked alike. I imagined they were all rich businessmen, lawyers, doctors, or politicians; a world I would never be a part of.
The women were another story. Glitter? I’d never seen so much sparkle from throats, fingers, and ears. Most of the older women wore long formals and the younger ones were in shorter cocktail dresses. They drifted together, air kissing each other on both cheeks like I’d seen in movies. I did find it odd that this was supposed to be a birthday party for a woman who was turning ninety. The crowd looked more the same age as Stud’s parents and younger. It made me wonder whose party this really was.
I turned my attention back to Stud and his family, standing at the garden entrance in family order. There was a huge difference between him and his family. Not in their appearance, as they were all beautiful people. It was deeper. Beauregard Sr. was first, looking every bit the king of his castle. He shook hands and nodded as he greeted the people coming down the line. There was a semi-smile on his face, but not one that reached his eyes. He looked more like this was an obligation than a party for his mother. He had not spoken one word to me since we arrived. Plastic flowers, I thought again.
Abigail came next in a conservative beige gown with a boat neck bodice that sparkled with hundreds of glass beads sewn into it, and a draping chiffon skirt that reached the floor but had a slight rise in front so her beige pumps could be seen. I knew this style was chosen mainly so she wouldn’t have any problems with tripping or catching the skirt with her shoes. It wouldn’t be seemly for the queen to falter, now would it? I noticed that some people she would shake hands with and some she just nodded at politely.
Stud was the odd man out in a lot of ways. He’d finally relaxed and seemed to be enjoying himself. Whenever he recognized someone in the line, he shook hands, smiled genuinely, hugged with a few back slaps, laughed out loud, or all of the above. His ponytail and trimmed beard alone set him apart, but his open behavior outshone the others around him to the point they faded away.
Danforth was a cookie-cutter image of his father. Same tux, same haircut, same look, same nod and handshake, same semi-smile. I needed to remember later to ask Stud if Danforth was really his brother or if he was a clone of his father.
Vanessa stood at the end of the line, looking like an angel in a sleeveless white bandage dress that wrapped around her like a second skin. It was short, coming to about midthigh, and showed off her perfect curves. Her hair was clipped back in a silver and diamond barrette in a fall of gentle blonde curls that draped over her bare shoulders. A single large diamond on a silver chain hung between the tops of her perfect high breasts. Open-toed silver stilettos adorned her perfect feet with toenails tipped in white. Barbie at her finest.
The gauntlet continued as guest after guest came through; Beau Sr.’s nod, Abigail’s limp touch, Stud’s laugh, Danforth’s grunt, and Vanessa’s vague smile. Every once in a while, I’d catch Stud’s glance and his lifted eyebrow.
You good? he seemed to be asking. I would wink, roll my eyes, or give him a thumbs-up, much to his amusement. The others simply ignored me. I couldn’t say I wasn’t bothered by their censure, but since I wasn’t here to impress them, fuck it. I’d drink this nasty wine, smile a fake smile, and get through the next twelve hours until we could leave for the coast. The first thing I would do when I saw my own family would be to hug the shit out of them and tell them I loved them. That was before punching Patrick and Angus in their faces. I still owed them that for the roof thing.
The line finally petered out and Stud was able to get away. He came straight over to me as I stood up. My thigh burned a little, but I was still determined to make it through the night in my fabulous shoes.
“Glad that’s over with,” he said, meaning every word. He took my hand and pulled me closer for a brief hug. “Come on and meet the person I really came to see. Bea brought Nana in a few minutes ago by the side gate and got her settled on her throne. She’s the one redeeming person here tonight.”
He led me down the veranda steps to the covered area off to the side of the stone fountain. A wrinkled elderly lady was sitting in a wheelchair conversing with an equally wrinkled black lady. Stud’s grandmother and her caretaker were in complete opposition to the glitz around them and didn’t seem to care. The white-haired woman had on navy blue sweatpants and a sweatshirt that stated GO DUKE! across the chest. Her feet were encased in thick white socks and Keds. The only jewelry she wore was a plain gold band on her left hand. Her caretaker was an older black woman with a head of gray hair who was dressed in sweatpants and a sweatshirt that read GO HEELS! Clearly there was a serious rivalry between the two of them. I smiled as we approached. I could already tell why Stud would deal with his family to see her and be here for her birthday.
“’Bout damn time you came over here!” she barked at Stud when we entered the area. “Get your ass over here, boy, and introduce me to your girlfriend!”
I bit my lip at her demand and waited for Stud to correct her, but he simply laughed and bent to kiss his grandmother on her dry powdery cheek.
“Nana, this is Eva MacAteer. Eva, this is Thelma Franklin, my beloved, cantankerous, stubborn grandmother, and her sidekick Bea Hairston.”
“You forgot old. I did turn ninety a few days ago. Didn’t want this big hootenanny, but your mother had to have it and your father wanted the connections for Danforth. He’s trying to get that cotton head to run for the state senate. Lord knows what will happen if he gets in office.”
“Thelma, you ought to be ashamed of yourself, talking like that about your own grandson! And in front of Little Beau’s lady friend! What’s she gonna think of you?” Bea scolded. Her hands were busy with a crochet hook and were flying as they formed a granny square with an anchor pattern in the middle. I was fascinated by the deftness in her gnarled fingers.
“She’s gonna think I’m the only one in this family who hasn’t lost their mind. Come sit over here and tell me about yourself,” the tiny dynamo demanded, piercing me with her pale blue eyes. “What does your family do and how did you meet my grandson?”
“Nana,” Stud breathed in mock warning.
“My family is in construction as in we design and build bars and pubs,” I answered as I sat on a white rental chair near the older woman. Stud moved behind me and placed his hands on my bare shoulders. I did my best to ignore the light stroke of his fingers.
“We are the architects and the crew for most of the work. That’s how I met Stud. My family just finished rebuilding his club’s bar and grill.”
Her look was steady. I could see where Stud got his intense focus as well as his gorgeous eyes. “I’m not surprised. You look like you could bench press a horse. Maybe two.” Her tone was one of admiration, not derision. “Takes a strong woman to keep my boy in line. What did you call him? Stud?”
I cleared my throat. “Umm—yeah, Stud. It’s his club road name and the only one I’ve ever called him.”
“Makes no sense to me why he’d want a name like that. My husband’s name was Beauregard. Perfectly fine family name, though it’s been a little tarnished now and then. Stud, eh? Probably suits him well. You know when he was a boy, I used to call him my little Bo-Bo. Did he tell you that?”
“Jesus, Nana!” Stud chuckled and turned red. Red! I was so keeping this for later blackmail material.
I bit my lip, trying to hold in the laughter, and shook my head. “No, he didn’t. He doesn’t talk much about this side of his family.”
The old woman snorted. “I can believe that! After the shit they pulled!”
“Now, Thelma! You shouldn’t be dragging that mess out here,” Bea admonished quietly, her fingers still flying.
I felt Stud go still against my back and his hands stopped their movement. Betsey had alluded to something bad that had happened and now Stud’s grandmother mentioned it, too. I expect whatever it was didn’t need to come out in the middle of a ninetieth birthday party.
“You’re really good at crocheting, Bea. I like the color scheme. What are you making?” I changed the subject quickly.
Bea looked up with a sympathetic and knowing look. This wasn’t her first rodeo. “I’m workin’ on a new afghan for my youngest grandson. He’s getting ready to graduate from high school and just got accepted into Chapel Hill. I’ve made all my grandbabies afghans when they left home. I’d like to think it keeps them warm and reminds them there’s someone that loves them and thinks of them all the time.”
My thoughts drifted to Stud’s afghan, but I didn’t say anything. I wasn’t sure if I should admit I’d been in his bedroom.
Bea continued. “Been working all my life. I can’t just sit with my hands not busy. Don’t matter if it’s TV watching or what. Thelma just gives me grief ’bout workin’ all the time but I like it, and as long as my fingers still work, Imma gonna keep ’em busy.”
Thelma snorted again. “What’s in the bag?” she asked, clearly ready to move on.
“I—uh—don’t crochet, but I—um—sew.” I handed her the plain brown bag. “Sorry for not wrapping it fancier, but since we travelled by bike there wasn’t a lot of room.”
Bea’s hands stopped as she watc
hed her charge pull out and spread open the log cabin lap quilt I’d been working on during my downtime at the Lair. The purple and green strips alternated in layers, showing a block pattern that was both simple and complex at the same time. I’d used a gold border between each larger piece, and extra-thick batting which took quite a while to complete, but would be extra warm and soft.
“You make this, child?” Bea asked, reaching her fingers out to stroke over the material. “Nice even stitches. I bet this took a while.”
“I had time,” I said, getting a little uncomfortable, but still enjoying the praise. “I understand the need to keep your hands busy.”
“Mardi Gras colors,” Thelma said as her bent fingers smoothed over the quilt. “My husband and I went there when he was stationed at the naval base in New Orleans. He was a military lawyer, but we didn’t have a pot to piss in back then so the best we could do was to go see the parades. I loved it so much! The lights. The colors.”
Her eyes twinkled and voice drifted back into the memory. “I earned a lot of beads, let me tell you!”
“Shit, Nana!” I heard Stud say under his breath. I couldn’t tell if he admired his grandmother for her boldness or was embarrassed by her admission.
“My good gracious, Thelma Franklin! I cain’t believe you showed off your titties in public! For plastic beads that ain’t got no value? I say you shoulda held out for cash money!” Bea picked up her crochet needle again, and it started flashing in her nimble hands. “That’s a fine-looking quilt, Eva. You done a good job. I’m bettin’ you did that dress too, seein’ as it’s fitted right proper. Has them same tiny stitches.”
Stud’s fingers tightened on my neck. “Yeah, she made it, Bea. Designed it too.” His thumbs caressed my shoulders, both stroking up to the back of my head. I felt a rush of goose bumps prick up as a shot of electricity ran down my spine.
