by ML Nystrom
“That’s really nice work,” Bea intoned, with a sidelong glance at her charge. “Nice to see somethin’ other than Duke blue!”
Thelma had been stroking the quilt now spread over her lap. She immediately latched on to the bait.
“Blue Devils over Tarheels any day!” she barked, scowling. “Best damn basketball team ever!” she declared.
“Maybe basketball, but we’re in football season now. My Tarheels can hold their own against anyone! Been undefeated this year, thanks to my grandson. You’re gonna lose big time, you old Blue Devil!”
The women argued back and forth a bit, showing off knowledge of a good number of the teams’ statistics from past years and their current records. I could see the affection between them even as they poked at each other. I tilted my head back and caught Stud’s amused expression. His attention came to me. “Did you go to Duke or Chapel Hill?” I asked.
“Both. Got my undergrad at UNC Chapel Hill and my law degree from Duke.”
“Where did you go?”
It took me a moment to realize Thelma was addressing me. Her piercing look was back.
“I didn’t. I’ve worked in my family business all my life. I got a high school diploma and kept working.” I swallowed a bit nervously but didn’t back down. If my lack of formal education was a problem, it was hers and not mine.
She nodded. “We used to call that the school of hard knocks. Some folks would benefit from taking those lessons rather than a four-year degree in something like art appreciation. Least if you choose art you need to be an artist, not just appreciate it!”
Stud cleared his throat like he was stifling himself.
“Now tell me something, Eva. This is really important for anyone who’s with my grandson. Devils or Heels?” Her eyes bored into mine and she wore a serious scowl on her face, like my answer was going to determine life or death.
“Neither,” I said. “My family is Irish so there’s only one team worth anything,” I stated with as much seriousness as I could manage. “Go Notre Dame!”
She slowly blinked. Then her face cracked into a wide smile and she seemed to burst. She clapped her hands together in her lap and threw her head back, laughing loud and real. I could see why Stud had stayed closer to his grandmother than the rest of his stuffy family. Her noise drew a lot of attention, and I could see Abigail, Danforth, and Vanessa approaching out of the corner of my eye.
“Are you well, Mother Franklin?” Abigail asked in a singsong voice, looking at everyone around the area, clearly hoping no one was paying attention to the cackling woman.
“Yes, I’m fine. Don’t hover!” she snapped at the Southern queen. “Eva was just telling me about her schooling and such. You know she designs clothes? That dress is one of her originals. Beautiful work. Nice to see a woman with some talent dating my Bo-Bo. Just look at this lap quilt! Handmade original!”
Abigail stuttered, “Ah—well—it is very nice.”
Vanessa looked a little sick.
Danforth gulped down his glass of that hideous wine and reached out to a passing waiter for another.
I tried not to laugh at the name Bo-Bo but lost the battle.
“What’s so funny?” Abigail all but hissed at me. I felt Stud’s fingers tighten on my shoulders, but I raised my hand to rest on his. Bea caught the calming gesture and nodded her approval.
“I’m just imagining what the other club members will say the first time I call him ‘Little Bo-Bo.’ I’ve got some serious firepower now! Thanks, Mrs. Franklin!”
“Oh, call me Nana. I ain’t been Mrs. Franklin for years.”
I lightly stroked my fingers over Stud’s and felt him relax again. I really was having a pretty good time, considering. Just a few hours more until the party was over. I could survive this.
“Aren’t you getting tired, Mother Franklin? Bea, maybe it’s time Mother Franklin retires for the night,” Abigail dismissively asserted. I began to wonder again whose party was this really supposed to be?
“I’m enjoying my grandson, whom I haven’t seen in way too many years, and you lot aren’t going to stop me!” She turned her gaze to Stud. “You bring your motorbike, boy?”
Stud answered with a big grin breaking out over his face. “Yes, ma’am, I did. You think you’re up for it?”
“Abso-fucking-lutely!” The old woman chortled, much to the continued embarrassment of Abigail. “Best birthday present ever is to ride bitch with my grandson!”
Abigail turned bright red. Vanessa froze like a marble statue. Danforth grabbed another glass. Stud laughed loudly, and I lost it completely.
“You go, Nana!” I shouted and wiped at the tears coming from my eyes. “I hope when I reach ninety, I can still ride bitch. No, scratch that. I’m getting my own bike. I hope I can still ride it at ninety!”
The old woman held up her hand for a high-five, which I tapped. “You go, girlfriend!”
Bea had put away her yarn in a big colorful bag next to her chair. “Guess I’ll get the cane and help you out to the driveway. Beau, you get your bike and meet us there. Thelma, you do what Beau says and he’ll keep you safe.”
Stud leaned down and whispered in my ear. “Are you okay on your own for a bit?”
I reached up and caressed his cheek. “I’m good, babe. I’ll wander around a bit until you get back. Go take your grandma for a ride.”
Sixteen
He pressed his lips to my temple and left them there a long time. One last shoulder squeeze and he was gone, leaving me with his mother and brother. Vanessa murmured something about the restroom and made her escape. Danforth frowned hugely at the retreating back of his wife and downed the rest of his glass in one long gulp before reaching for another. Someone was well on his way to getting wasted tonight.
Abigail sniffed and drew herself up into ramrod straightness. “I don’t know what your game is by being here with Beauregard, but I will assure you, Eva, you do not belong.”
Wow! Talk about being blunt.
“You don’t have to tell me that, Abby.” She stiffened further, if that was even possible. “No games, though. What you see is what you get. It seems Stud doesn’t think he belongs here either. Why else would he leave it all behind?”
“He has his trust still, so he didn’t leave it all,” she spat. “He’s just out sowing oats or something. He’ll come back. He has to.”
I stood up, towering over the indignant woman with a huge stick up her ass. Nope, not a stick. A fucking two-by-four! “You have no idea who your son really is, do you?” I walked off, leaving her to hiss and spit in outrage, but managed to tune her out.
I needed the restroom myself and went into the one on the shining pool deck rather than take a chance on running into Vanessa on the way to the house. There were three unoccupied stalls and I was grateful for a moment of privacy. Hiding in a bathroom stall was not my intention, but when another couple of women came in, that’s just what I did.
“I can’t believe Beau actually showed his face tonight! Poor Vannie!”
“He should be ashamed of himself after leaving her like he did! And joining up with that motorcycle gang? Vannie was so humiliated!”
Wait, what? Stud and Vanessa were a thing?
“She did okay marrying Danny, though. Terrible they can’t have children.”
“Oh I know. They’ve been trying for years! I hear Abigail has been calling Beau for a while now, trying to get him to come back in the family fold. She and her husband are desperate to get him wedded and bedded so he can get the next generation of Franklins going. You know, to ensure the family businesses.”
“Hmm—I certainly wouldn’t mind that part! The bedding, I mean. That man can melt ice cubes in winter, he is so hot!”
“Not if I get him first! He’s got his own trust from his grandparents, so he doesn’t need his daddy’s money. Danny went through his grandfather’s inheritance already on that waste of a vineyard. Worst wine I’ve ever had!”
“Oh, yes indeed.”
I couldn�
�t decide if the rest of their sticky sweet Southern-accented conversation was hilarious, stupid, or insulting. Probably a combination of all three.
“What about that woman he brought with him? Who is that?”
“I know! She’s so big and butch looking. Looks like one of the trainers at my gym!”
“I heard she works at a construction company. You know? The kind that builds stuff?”
I slapped my hand over my mouth to stifle my laughter. What other kind of construction was there?
“No refinement at all! Dresses real nice though.”
“Beau Sr. will never allow her in the family. Abigail would just have a fit!”
“Ooh, but wouldn’t that be a sight to watch!”
Both women finally exited, and I was able to get out myself. I looked around at the crowd, eating and drinking. Artificial party, artificial plants, artificial people. What a fucking soap opera! I was right. Maybe at one time Beau belonged here, but Stud definitely did not. The sooner we could get away, the better.
I wandered through the garden, mostly to get away from the crowd. These weren’t my people and never would be. The flowers and plants looked even more fake in the hanging lights. The noise faded as I went deeper into the garden and found myself in the inner maze. The lights weren’t as bright here and I was able to feel a better sense of solitude, which I sorely needed.
As I made my way back to the party, I heard noises coming from near the gazebo and stayed hidden behind a wall of thick bushes as I approached. I didn’t know what I expected but the sight that met my eyes was not it.
Vanessa was bent over a stone bench, her short skirt hiked up around her hips and panties down around her ankles. She was getting the bejeezus fucked out of her, but not by her husband. Beau Sr. stood behind her, pants open, pumping in and out of her, grunting with every thrust, banging into her harder and harder.
What the fuck?
“Nice to see them keep it in the family, right?” a drunken voice slurred in my ear. I jumped but managed not to scream. Danforth was leaning against a tall stone statue and apparently had been for some time, watching his wife getting drilled by his father.
“Daddy dearest has good taste, eh? My fuckin’ wife,” he muttered as he drank from a bottle held loosely in one hand. I could see he had given up on using a glass. “Goddamn bitch.”
I was sure none of the fancy etiquette books in the library had any advice on how to handle this!
“I’m—uh—sorry?” I responded in a low voice, wishing I’d never left the party. I could hear the sounds filtering through the small maze. Pretty bold to be going at it with your daughter-in-law that close to a public gathering!
“Yeah, well, it’s my fault,” Danforth slurred. “Ayin’t got the ballz to stan’ up to daddy dearest. Beau got ’em all. My fuckin’ brother! He left us. Got out! I haddoo take on hiz shit! Hiz fuckin’ sloppy seconds! Or should I say sloppy thirdz?”
The sounds of slapping flesh and low grunts got louder as they reached their climax. Or at least one of them was. It was hard not to watch, but I managed to turn away.
He swallowed the last of the bottle and put a hand to his forehead. “She’s fucked-up inside. His fuckin’ fault. Goddamn bastard.”
“I’m—uh—going to go now.” Awkward didn’t even begin to describe this situation.
“Why d’you wanna do that?” Danforth dropped the bottle. He moved toward me and I pressed against the prickly bushes, trying to keep him out of my personal space. “Show’z jus’ gettin’ started. He’ll do her up the ass before he’z finished. My fuckin’ wife.”
This was not something I wanted to see or even know about. Jesus! How much had he had to drink tonight? He stank worse than any of my brothers on a bender. I was done.
“This is some sick shit! I don’t blame Stud for escaping this crazy-ass family! I’m leaving,” I said firmly, attempting to move out of his way.
His hands came up to grip my shoulders tightly and pull me into his body. He was stronger than he looked, and I was taken by surprise. He ran his wet mouth over my neck, leaving a sloppy trail behind. My stomach lurched at the slimy feel.
“Get off me!” I hissed, pushing at him, trying to escape both him and the bushes behind me that were scratching into my back and arms.
He roughly grabbed a breast, squeezing it painfully. “You suck cock? Mah wifey does. I seen ’er.”
He forced a hand between my legs and gripped me hard.
To hell with this!
I shoved the drunk man hard and screamed as loud as I could. “GET THE FUCK OFF ME YOU FUCKING SICK BASTARD!” He landed against the stone statue hard enough to knock it over. It crashed through the bushes, exposing Beau Sr. and Vanessa, still at it. The noise was deafening.
I vaguely heard a squeal and a shuffle coming from the direction of the gazebo, and the sound of running feet coming towards us. Danforth wasn’t done. He came at me again in a red-faced rage, pulling back a fist to take a swing at my head.
Fuck my life! Not again! was my first thought as my own fist leapt up to crack across his face, sending an arc of blood spraying from his nose. My second thought was to duck under his flailing arm and come up with a hard punch to his middle. He “oofed” and bent over, all the wine he had consumed rushing out of his mouth and splashing on the broken stones. Ugh! My shoes got some of it too. Molly would be pissed. That was the absolute last straw!
“What the fuck is wrong with you people?” I yelled, my Irish bitch in full form. “I’ve never seen so much fucked-up shit in my life! Why in the fuck would Stud ever come back to this crap? Is this what it means to be rich? It’s one big stinking pile of bullshit!”
By that time, more spectators had arrived, mouths open and aghast at the sight of Danforth on his knees, puking his guts out. Just beyond us, Beau Sr. and Vanessa were struggling to get their clothes back in order. I caught Vanessa tripping over her panties as she jerked at her tight skirt, trying to get it over her hips and her ass covered. Her face was beet red, the first real color I’d seen her wear.
“What’s going on here?” Abigail’s voice rang out. She pushed through the crowd and stopped short. I saw her eyes widen as she looked at her son, still curled up and heaving on the ground. They narrowed again, this time at me. “You piece of trash! What did you do?”
She strode forward, all indignant, ready to tear me a new one. When she spotted Vanessa and her husband, she stopped short again, her mouth opening and closing like a fish.
“Beau? What are you doing?” she asked, all the fight gone out of her.
Beau Sr. was tucking himself away and zipping up his pants. Vanessa was pulling up her panties and looking everywhere but at her mother-in-law.
“Again? And in public? How could you?” she wailed.
I wasn’t sure if her question was directed at her or him.
“It’s not what you think, Abigail,” Beau Sr. started. “This isn’t a big deal.”
“Nor is it the first time.” Stud’s deep voice rang out. He strode through the crowd past his mom and straight up to his dad. “You were fucking her when she was engaged to me. I saw you in your home office the night I left. My fiancée bent over and my father ramming it in. Looks like nothin’s changed.”
I’d never heard this amount of pure rage from anyone before. It was deadly. I could feel the force of it radiating from every pore in his body. My Irish bitch got subdued and quiet. I’d process the engagement news later.
Vanessa found her voice. “It’s not… I’m… I had to. I loved you! Love you even now so much, but I had to do it!”
“No you didn’t,” Stud replied, deadly cold.
“Beau, please understand!” she pleaded. “We—my parents—we were broke and—and—”
“Don’t you think I knew that? Don’t you think I would’ve helped your parents? Used my trust to save that abysmal vineyard of yours? I was ready to lay the world at your feet, but it wasn’t good enough because we wouldn’t be able to live rich. You woul
d’ve had to give up your expensive tea parties, club lunches, and shit like that for a while, but I was working my ass off, trying to give you everything you wanted. I thought we were in that together. Then I found out you were fucking my goddamn father!”
Oh, this was bad. Gasps and exclamations rippled through the crowd as the dirtiest of the family laundry was thrown to the ground.
“You’re a user, Vannie. He needed an old family name for the connections. Your people only had the name left and needed his money. Marriage to me was the final prize. Perfect fairy-tale story to show the world, perfect cesspool hidden underneath. Only no one counted on you getting pregnant, did they?”
Holy shit!
“The child was aborted because you didn’t know if he was my son or my father’s.”
Oh. My. Ever. Loving. God.
The silence. Utter silence from every person there. Abigail was white as a sheet. Vanessa was reeling back and grasping at the stiff Beau Sr. He ignored her.
Danforth finally stood up and staggered over to Stud.
“Fuck you, brother!” he spat out and tried to tackle Stud. He didn’t even have to lift a finger, just move back and Danforth was on the ground again, sniveling and vomiting more.
Beau Sr. puffed himself up and shook off Vanessa’s grasping hands. “Beauregard Franklin Jr., you are no longer welcome in this house. You’ve brought nothing but shame and strife, and I will never again claim you as my son,” he declared, as if he had been the one wronged.
I wanted so bad to laugh. That’s all you got, old man? A plastic house with plastic plants? Plastic wife so into appearances she alienated her own son? Plastic pussy so into her own self she couldn’t see the value that was right in front of her? Plastic younger son so weak in character he couldn’t stand up to you and keep his wife from fucking around? If this was living rich, someone else could have it! I’d rather live with less, than be living as less.
I stayed silent, though. This was Stud’s fight. I was backup.
“No problem there. I left a long time ago. Remember?” Stud turned his blue eyes to me, glancing at the bruises on my arms. I held up my equally bruised knuckles to show him he didn’t need to defend me. I’d already taken care of that business.
