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The words leapt out of my mouth before I could stop them: “Glad I’m impressing someone.”
Oh, Ally, Ally, Ally, I could almost hear my mother saying. When will you ever learn to think before you speak?
It didn’t really matter that I couldn’t recall the context of that memory. It could have been any time within the past twenty-four years of my life.
“Hunter not appreciating you?” Chuck’s voice held nothing but sympathy, and he waved away my sound of protest. “Oh, I wouldn’t dream of prying further. I’m sure I’ve heard this story before; he leaves a string of hearts in his wake, young Hunter. He doesn’t understand how deeply women feel things, particularly smart, passionate, artistic young women like you.”
Flattery will get you everywhere with me. Even if you’re a snake. “Well, I guess I am—” But I couldn’t get a word in edgewise, and Chuck plowed on.
“There’s nothing malicious about it; it’s just that when you get right down to it, the man’s rather shallow. He sees a pretty face and the women he strings along hope he sees something more.” He shook his head, mournful and earnest. “Don’t be embarrassed, Miss Bartlett. I’ve seen it all from him at least a hundred times before.”
“It’s not like that!” I snapped, the tears threatening again, but I held them at bay with an iron will. I couldn’t let him think I was some floozy, sleeping her way to the top; not after all I’d sacrificed to keep my good name. “Hunter and I—‘s not like that. We’re just—I’m jus’ sick of Hunter being so self-centered, is all. All ‘I’m Hunter Knox’ like that—like that…”
I waved my hand, trying to convey what I couldn’t with words. Some distant part of my brain noted that my hand was unsteady and I tried to keep it from wavering. I couldn’t let Chuck guess how much alcohol I’d consumed. I couldn’t let him guess because—
Because—
It was really hard to remember the reason. He was being so nice to me.
He patted my shoulder. “Oh, really? Hunter may have his faults, but being egotistical in business—well, frankly it doesn’t seem like him.”
His disbelief goaded me further. “Well, it is! He can’t see how people are trying to help him, he just wants to do it all himself, and all he can do is, is, is—insult everyone, call them names, say they’ve wasted their life on the job they love—I tried to…I mean, other people really care about the company, but he jus’, just is all—” I forgot my need to keep my gestures small, waved my hands like I was conducting a large orchestra—“wanting to run everything himself, gotta turn everything around all by himself and it’s like the family name is freaking sacred or some shit—some ish, some—” I blushed at my profane slip but more words kept burbling out of my lubricated throat. “It’s more than just a product to him, like—like—like he’s a freaking mishin—mish—missionary or something!”
There was a grin in Chuck’s voice, but my mind couldn’t quite put a reason to it. Reasons were very far away and unimportant at the moment, unconnected to me and my anger and the muggy night air.
“That sounds awful,” Chuck sympathized. “Do tell me more, you poor thing.”
And God help me, I did.
#
“Well, I thought that went well, don’t you?” Hunter said.
I did not think that had gone well. I thought that had gone the opposite of well. It had, in fact, gone so thoroughly not-well that in a crescendo of complete unwellness, the evening was ending with me having to ride back to the plantation in a car driven by an obscenely happy Hunter, who insisted on humming happy songs under his breath, making random positive comments about my sister, grilling me about how my efforts had gone and why he hadn’t seen me for the last quarter, and touching my arm.
Like, maybe if he had just confined himself to touching my arm, I would have been more kindly disposed toward him. But probably not.
It didn’t help that my head was already starting to hurt like a motherfucker.
“Whatever.” I purposely didn’t look him in the eye as I said it.
“Somebody have a little too much to drink again?” he teased, playful as a kitten.
“Don’t count on it,” I snapped.
“Ooooh, did your mother call you and offer comments on your dress? Is that why the long face?”
“Just keep your eyes on the damn road,” I retorted.
“No need,” he said with a grin so cheesy it could’ve been its own pizza topping. “We’re already there.”
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