Gia (Women of Privilege Book 1)

by Bridget Bundy

  “You’re right. It doesn’t, but we’ll get back to that in a minute.” She waves as if what I said is nothing. “Everything in Tudor Estates have been planned right down to the type of grass that’s in your yard. If you decide to plant flowers, shrubs, or trees that blooms, the flowers must be yellow. Or you’ll be told to remove the plant and replace it with one more in line with the color scheme of the community.”

  “Are you kidding me? She wants to control what plants I put in my yard?”

  “I’m far from kidding. Plant an Aster Purple Dome and let it bloom. You’ll see what kind of reaction you get and the fine that’s put on your door. You’d think you ran ten red lights and killed ten babies in less than two minutes.”

  What kind of neighborhood have I moved into? And what the hell is an Aster Purple Dome?

  Natasha continues. “The Ladies of Tudor Estates Society is the governing body. They collect the homeowner’s fees, which takes care of the common areas, the clubhouse, and any community sponsored events. They set the fines. They meet every other Tuesday in the clubhouse. They have elections once a year in November, unless there’s an opening before then. The positions that’s elected by vote are president, vice president, finance secretary, and secretary. If you ask me, they might as well be a lifetime position. It’s the same ladies in the same positions all the time. The only reason why the secretary position came open is because the lady died of cancer.”

  “Why does an organization like that exist, Natasha?”

  “To preserve the value of the community,” she replies.

  “So, I can’t plant pink flowers in my yard?”

  “No.”

  “But if I do it anyway-”

  “Then you will be fined, and you will keep getting fined until the flowers are removed.”

  “She doesn’t own my fu…Sorry. She doesn’t own my yard.”

  “Gia, you’ll discover that a lot of neighborhoods with homeowner’s associations and the such have rules like this. They may not fine you as much, or they might give you a warning, but this is common place for a lot of communities.”

  “What else do I need to know?”

  “The people that live on Privilege Place. Your neighbors.”

  I’m really interested in hearing about them.

  The waitress has already placed our order on the table and has moved on. Natasha picks up a cut strawberry and places the whole thing in her mouth. She rolls her eyes and nods.

  “Tastes so good,” she replies. “Sorry, off track for a minute there.” She wipes her mouth and hands before continuing. “Okay, the neighbors. Next to you live Grey and Rachel Phillips. They are very private. They keep to themselves most of the time. Grey is kind of nasty, but no one ever sees him so it’s okay. You’d forget they live next to you. Harlan and Joslyn Montgomery lives on the other side of the Phillips.”

  “Well, you don’t have to say much about her,” I remark.

  Natasha chuckles. “She is a pistol and quite the busybody. It’s amazing how much she’s into everyone’s business with four kids.”

  “She has four kids?”

  “Yes. Joslyn is the one that hands out the fines.”

  “Yeah, I got one yesterday. Pissed me off.”

  “She takes her position seriously. She likes to think of herself as a sheriff. Knocking on doors, threatening people with fines because their grass is too high or because they have dead flowers in their yards. She’ll leave a fine on everyone else’s door except Charli’s in a hot minute. She kisses every step that woman walks. It’s sad really.”

  “Who lives next to her?” I don’t want to hear anything else about Joslyn.

  “Chase and Ruby Riley. You won’t see them too much. Ruby is a troubled woman since her son died, and Chase is just strange. You will see them come and go time to time, but they don’t really speak to anyone.” Natasha sips her drink. “Right at the beginning of the turnaround is Magnus and India Black. They don’t have children. India is a great person and so is her husband. She is the life of the party, actually.”

  “Was she at the meeting yesterday” I ask.

  “I don’t think so. She’s a professor, and she might have been at school at the time. You’ll like that family. They live next to Legend and Charli Love.”

  “Wait…What did you say? Legend Love?”

  Natasha nods her head, knowing the significance of that man’s name.

  “He’s that fashion designer.”

  “The very same one.”

  “Natasha, I love his clothes, and he’s our neighbor?”

  “He’s a great, down to earth kind of guy, Gia.”

  “I would love to meet that man. Love to meet him.”

  “He’s always out of town, but perhaps, one day you will.”

  Natasha goes on to tell me about Candice Carson, who lives on the other side of Charli. Beside Candice is where Natasha and her husband, Kian, lives. Then there is Ellis and Marisol Harrington, followed by Russell and Tiffany Wolfe, and the last house that’s across the street from me is Atticus and Rayne Snow. Natasha has good opinions about most of the families, but I’m going to form my own. They may be nice to her, but they might be shitty to me. After all, I am the new girl on the block, and being new doesn’t always guarantee curious neighbors wanting to be friends. Joslyn has definitely proven that yesterday.

  “So, do you like living in Tudor Estates?” I ask.

  “It has its ups and downs,” she replies. “I think the Society makes it more difficult than it should.”

  “Well, I do understand some of those people are your friends. I get that, but I will not tolerate anyone trying to put me down to lift themselves up.”

  “Gia, I know Joslyn can be overwhelming, but she really means well. Just don’t take what she did personal.”

  “It’s too late. I don’t get why she tried to put me out there like that. I haven’t done anything to her. I just met her yesterday.”

  “People are afraid of individuals they don’t know or understand, and she doesn’t know you. And in a way, she has to test how far she can go with you.”

  “She just needs to leave me alone.”

  “After yesterday, she probably will.”

  “No, remember what I said? She left a fine notice on my door after the meeting. One hundred dollars for noise.”

  “Just don’t worry about her. Pay the fine and let it go.”

  I’m not feeling that advice. I sigh and remark, “Honestly, Natasha, I just don’t want to be blackballed. I don’t want people to think I’m a horrible person.”

  “No one thinks that, Gia.”

  “Yeah, we’ll see. You know, I was thinking about having a housewarming party. It’ll be a way for me to start over with everyone. What do you think?”

  “It’s a good idea. I had a housewarming party when I moved in, and it went very well. I’d recommend calling an event planner, you know, to give it a little pizzazz for the ladies in Tudor.”

  “I’ll think about it.”

  Natasha and I finish our afternoon dessert and return home. She drops me off in front of my house before continuing up the street to hers. I look up at the end of the cul-de-sac. Legend Love, the most sought after fashion designer in the country, perhaps the world, lives on the same street I live on. Singing stars make songs that includes his brand name. I’ve watched many celebrities walk the red carpet on television, of course, showing off his blazing one of a kind fashions. He knows every curve of a woman and accentuates every seductive part with class. And he’s fine as hell. He might come to my housewarming party. How can I go wrong if he’s in my home? All the neighbors will come then. I need to figure out which day, what time, and get invitations out. Or perhaps, I should hire an event planner, like Natasha recommended. I’m so excited. This is going to be so great.

  Chapter Twelve

  Before going into the house, I check the mailbox. I’ve got two envelopes from the bank, which I’ve been expecting. Inside are two debit cards for my
parents. I put the envelopes in my purse, and just as I’m about to close it, I notice my cell phone is lit up. I’ve got replies from Hannah to all of my text messages.

  She is madder than hell on fire. Who the fuck are you? Stop texting me. I’m calling the cops. Fuck you! Fuck you! Fuck you! I got her blood boiling. I know if she’s hating me real bad right now, she must be ready to kill Anthony.

  I text her right back. You a weak bitch. Don’t suck dick – do you??? I send it and start the next one. Don’t worry. I took care of him. I sucked his dick all the way dry. I wait for a few seconds. Still, no response. That’s okay. I got another one for her. Remember every time you kissed him, you were kissing my pussy. How do I taste bitch? I know she’ll lose her mind when she reads those messages. I decide to send one more. Call the cops and tell them your husband – my man – sucked my clit and stuck his tongue in my pussy. I turn off the phone. I’ll check it again later.

  I get to the door of my house, and I see another folded note on it. I don’t want to open the piece of paper, but I have to. Of course, it’s another fine notification. Now, Joslyn is claiming that my grass is too high. I have to pay fifty dollars, and I have two days to get it corrected. And there’s that 1700 hours deadline, too. I have no idea what time that really is, and I really don’t care. I rip that shit up and stuff it in my purse along with the other torn up note. Stupid bitch. She’s going to keep right on until she takes it too far, and then she’s going to wish she stayed away from me.

  Fuming and mad as hell, I go into the house. The quiet throws me off. I can see Anthony standing by the pool. Hannah must have really laid him out on the phone. It’s time for me to step in and play the concerned friend. I head through the empty living room directly to the back patio.

  “Hey, Anthony,” I speak, stopping at his side.

  “Hey, Gia.” He sounds defeated.

  “Everything okay?”

  He exhales heavily and shakes his head. I begin rubbing his back, but he steps away from me. Inwardly, I’m hurt that he doesn’t want me to touch him, but I keep it to myself.

  “Talk to me,” I say to him. “What’s bothering you?”

  “Nothing.”

  “You’re scaring me.”

  “There’s nothing wrong. Look, can I use your truck? I’ll be careful with it.”

  “Anthony, tell me what’s wrong. I’m a great listener.”

  He sighs and says, “My burdens, Gia, and I have to deal with them on my own.”

  “But I can help.”

  “No, you can’t. I appreciate your concern, but it’s nothing I can share. Your truck, please?”

  I reach in my purse, take out my keys, and drop them in his hands.

  “I’ll return it with a full tank,” he says.

  “No need. You’re good. Unless you’re trying to go to Atlanta.”

  “No, I’m not going that far.”

  “Can I come with you?”

  “No, I have something to take care of that deals with my mom at the bank. I won’t be long.”

  “Alright, be safe.”

  “Thanks.”

  Anthony departs in a rush. I’m truly torn on what I’ve been doing to him. All I want in the end is for him to love me and to be with me, and I’m willing to move the Earth to make that happen. But in the odd sense of it all, I’m hurting him in the process, and that’s not my intention. If only he would open his eyes and see the love I have for him, his pain would be over. He can end his marriage and move in with me permanently. I would make him so happy. Why can’t Anthony see that? Do I need to spell it out for him? Grab both of his cheeks and look into his eyes and say, hey! Wake up! Love is here.

  Perhaps, I’ll just come right out and say how I feel when I see him again. That could backfire on me, too. I decide to just do the wait and see when he comes back.

  Chapter Thirteen

  After I change clothes, I head to the garage and get into my other car. It’s the first one I had before I bought the Mercedes. It’s a Honda, a practical little ride that I refuse to get rid of. It’s great on gas when I have to ride out to Atlanta. I keep it in the garage to keep it clean and so the front of my house won’t look so cluttered.

  After I back out, I check my main phone. I’ve got several photographs attached to sex messages from JD, and most of them are of his dick. Such a classy guy. I really need to cut his ass off. He’s a damn loser, and I’m bankrolling his pathetic life. When I get Anthony for real and true, I’m going to do just that. JD is going to move back in with his momma, and she’s going to treat him like the infant bitch that he is. I would have gotten rid of him sooner, but he did me a huge favor and the fact that he has a monster-size dick makes him a real keeper.

  I toss the phone back in my purse and turn on the second one. Hannah hasn’t responded to any of those messages. I text her again. Stank ass whore. That will get a rise out of her. No woman likes to be called a whore, except a whore, and she will respond to that compliment for sure.

  Without waiting for an answer, I take off.

  My first stop is my parents’ house. They live on Lexington Avenue, just beyond Rincon town line. Most of the area is woods more than homes, and it is real country living. My parents have an overweight Labrador, a chicken coop with three chickens, a rooster that crows in the middle of the night and the mid-afternoon. Personally, I think the thing has mental issues. There’s a billy goat that I hate. It likes to stand on high places, which includes every car that’s parked in the yard. There are two overly fat pigs that smell disgustingly horrible. I don’t even know how I eat bacon after seeing the things those animals consume. All those animals are kept in pens behind the house, except the dog, but every once in a while, that goat gets out. He chews at the knot that keeps the gate to the pigpen closed. Once he frees his friends, I’m told they go on adventures in the woods and into neighbors’ yards. The only way to get the goat and the dog to go back home is by leading the pig. Those animals will follow that swine to the Atlantic Ocean if they could. It’s amazing. But one thing is for certain. I don’t understand how my folks deal with those animals and with the smell.

  I park my car right beside the road. I’ve left my truck around back before, and the billy goat must have took that as an invitation to escape and do some car climbing. I hate that billy goat. I really do.

  I speak to my mom as I enter the house. She shushes me because she’s watching a rerun of the original Law & Order. She’s been hooked since day one.

  “Where’s Dad?” I ask after bending over to give her a kiss on the forehead.

  “Feeding Mr. and Mrs. Popcorn,” she answers.

  That’s the name of the pigs. I can’t even begin to answer why they gave those things that name.

  “How long will he be?”

  “He should be done by now. Hush up.” She moves me out of the way.

  I sit down on the sofa and watch television. Just as I’m about as into the program as she is, Dad walks in. He’s wiping his hands on his jeans.

  “Hey, Dad!”

  “Didn’t I tell you to hush?” my mom gives me the look of death.

  “Can we talk in the kitchen?” I ask as I stand up and go over to him.

  “We better, or your momma is gonna whip both of our tails for disturbing her TV show.”

  I follow my dad into the kitchen. It’s a bright, rectangular room with plenty of natural light from the windows. The wallpaper has tiny tea kettles with happy faces and matching towels flipped over the sink and refrigerator door handle. The curtains have a lavender lace trim that actually makes the tea kettles stand out. My parents are funny with their country kitchen, farm animals, and reruns. It’s those little things that they cling to that makes me love them so much.

  “Dad, I wanted to talk to you about why you came over to my apartment.”

  “I thought I told you.” He leans against the chair that’s pushed under the kitchen table.

  “No, you didn’t.”

  “Yes, I did.”


  “I wouldn’t be asking if you told me.”

  “A cop came by. I didn’t tell you that?”

  “No and what for?” That’s strange.

  “He wanted to talk to you about Grace Moran.”

  “Are you positive about that?”

  “I know what I heard, Gia.”

  “What else did he say?” Now, I’m curious.

  “Nothing else. Oh, but he did give me his business card. I put it somewhere.” He checks his pockets, and then looks around the kitchen from where he stands.

  “Dad, why would you leave the card in here?”

  “No, honey, I’m trying to remember where I left it. I think it’s in my study. Come on with me.” My dad shuffles out of the kitchen and down the hall.

  The first room to the left is his study. It’s clean and orderly. I don’t think he even uses it that much.

  “It’s on the desk.” He grabs it and hands it to me.

  I read the name. A detective. His name is Lucas Parker, and he’s out of the Savannah Police Department.

  “He wants you to call him.”

  “I’ll do that today,” I remark, stuffing the card into my back pocket. “Dad, I need for you to get Mom away from the television set. I have to speak to you guys together.”

  “You’re going to finally tell me where you moved to.”

  That’s not what I had in mind. I exhale and say, “Not yet.”

  “Gia, are you living in the streets, and you just don’t want to admit it? If that’s the case, you can move back here until you get back on your feet.”

  “Dad, it’s not that.”

  “Where are you living at, Gia?” He has lost his patience.

  “You can’t tell anyone, and I mean it. The moment other family members find out, then I’m going to have problems. No one can know.”

  “You know I don’t speak on nobody’s business.”

  My mind is racing, but something finally hits me. I know what I’m going to say. “I moved to Skidaway Island.”

  “You moved farther away? Why?”

  “Because he wanted me to,” I reply.