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My mom coughs, swallowing a sip of water to clear her throat. “Mama, we have her dress.”
But Mimi just looks at me.
Fuuuuuuuuuck.
My mom sighs. “What did you do to it, Clay?”
How did my grandmother find out? I’m tempted to throw Liv under the bus here, but I’m filled with a sudden desire to protect her at all costs.
I simply remain silent, knowing there’s nothing my mother will do to hold me accountable.
A smirk curls Mimi’s mouth as she lifts her glass to her lips and locks eyes with my mother again. “I never would’ve guessed one child would be harder than four,” she taunts.
My mother’s jaw flexes, she and her three siblings far less trouble than one little ol’ me, and I can feel every muscle in her body tighten from here.
Reaching my hand under the table, I slide it under my skirt and wrap my fist around the bandana, exhaling.
Three hours and fourteen minutes later, I grab my phone off the tray in the dining room and pull my saddle shoes back on as I hop out the front door. My shoelaces drag on the ground, and I open up the Uber app to escape here while they think I’m off getting something from my mom’s car. The dinner lasted a full hour more with the dessert and the practice interview questions for Omega Chi. Then we tried on dresses, and I just let my mother—through the approval of Mimi, of course—choose the strapless, A-line charmeuse with the chiffon draping. Actually, quite pretty, but I still felt like a moron in it.
Spotting Mimi’s rose bushes, I quickly bend a stem back and forth, breaking it off as I avoid the thorns.
“Young man?” I hear Peggy call out.
I lift my head, realizing the cook is on the balcony over top of me. I slink back so she can’t see and look out into the driveway where Trace Jaeger loads up a rusty Ford truck. He’s in jeans and covered in sweat, even though the sun set an hour ago.
“Put your shirt on!” she scolds him.
“Aw, baby,” he whines, and my eyes go wide.
“Now, I said!”
“But you’re so hot, it’s making me hot.” He holds out his hands, looking like Romeo serenading Juliet. “Look at this, I’m drenched!”
I cover my mouth to quiet my laugh. The butler’s wife not only cooks, but she practically raised my mom, aunts, and uncles. She also served as a nurse in the Navy for five years. She isn’t about the bullshit.
“You rascal!” she chides.
“Sugar plum,” he coos, feigning a condescending tone but smiling as he does it.
“Caveman!”
“Love bug!”
“Gorilla!”
“Sweetie, honey pie!”
I snort, nearly dying.
“Ape!” she cries.
“Buttercup.”
“Ugh!”
Then, I hear a door slam, and I let a laugh escape. I’ve never seen anyone handle her like that.
“You know…” I head out from under the balcony and across the driveway toward him. “One of these days she’s going to decide your hedge sculptures aren’t worth it and have you fired.”
“And quickly realize her mistake.” He pulls out his shirt but uses it to wipe his back dry. “She loves me.”
Sure. I look over the load of tools in his truck bed, everything he needed for landscaping today. The rest of the crew is already gone.
“Can you give me a ride back to school?” I ask, glancing over my shoulder at the house. “Like quickly?”
Before I’m caught and before I’m late. It’s after seven already.
He opens the door for me, and I hop in, the smell of rust and dirt immediately hitting me.
But I pull the door closed and wait for him to round the truck to the driver’s side.
The ripped imitation leather pinches the backs of my thighs, and I find some footing through the takeout bags and empty soda cans on the floor.
Trace gets in, starts the truck and turns up the radio, peeling out of the driveway like he’s unaware he has to stop and wait for the gate to open.
As soon as we’re through, he rolls down the window, and I do the same, the wind blowing through the cab.
“So you want me to put my shirt on, too?” he asks.
I turn my eyes on him, not seeing a shirt in sight, so I don’t know how he’s going to do that.
“Didn’t even notice, did you?” he teases, lighting a cigarette. “I guess I don’t have to worry that you’re faking it with my sister.”
Smoke puffs up as the end burns orange, and I kind of want to ask him for one.
“I notice men.” I wave the air, clearing the smoke. “Your sweat and stench, however, trumps any attraction.”
“I can shower.” He eyes me. “Wanna help?”
Help him shower? “What are you doing?” I ask. My ire perks up that he’d make a pass when he knows I’m seeing Liv. I didn’t peg him for a shitty brother.
