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“Y’all,” Laney instructs, “grab a table. We are going to serve tea in a bit.”
“Dis rweal fancy, JoJo,” Belle says, taking my hand as we make our way over to the tables.
“Ah, it’s okay, I guess,” I reassure her with a sly wink to which she giggles at.
I smile as I pull the chair out for Belle then sit beside her. She looks a nervous mess, and I feel her. We make small talk while we wait for the event to begin.
The curt, snooty tone coming from my left draws my attention away from Belle who is seated on my right. I look up to find my old high school classmate, wannabe Stepford wife, and sister to Gia, Brooke Moss, with a pained expression on her face and a miniature version of herself in tow. Jesus, why me?
Brooke and I went to school together; although, she always acted like she was better than me. She always had one goal in mind, marry well and stay pretty for appearances. And that’s just what she did—married a lawyer turned politician turned Mayor of Tybee Island. I wonder what she would do if I told her that the pained expression only adds to the depths of her forehead wrinkles?
I look around quickly, hoping like hell to see anyone that I know other than her who could claim these seats, but it’s no use; all the seats are taken except the two remaining at our table. I offer my best Southern smile and say, “Please, join us.” To which I get an eye roll from Brooke and “hmpf” from her mini-me.
“Oh goodie,” Belle’s voice is laced with more sarcasm than I know what to do with. Who knew five-year-olds did sarcasm?
“How have you been, Brooke?” I ask, trying to put my best foot forward and set a good example for Belle and all. And much to my surprise, Belle is mimicking my actions.
“Hi, Harley, lwovely to see you today.” The way she tries to sound proper is more than hilarious. The little girl offers her a small smile that I am sure her momma and aunt had a hand in teaching. Belle pats my leg eagerly, wanting my attention.
“Can we take a selfie, JoJo?”
Aww, that warms my heart. She wants a picture with me.
“I’d be honored, Miss Belle.”
I quickly hold up my phone, flip the camera, and mash my face close to hers.
“We’s hawt,” Belle states as a snicker comes from Brooke, who happens to be taking in all of our conversation.
“You know it!” I tell Belle because I refuse to let stuck-up, rigid bitches rain on our parade. I’m holding my big ass umbrella today, sister—bring it.
Laney asks for all the little girls to please join her inside for a moment, so Belle and Harley make their way from our table along with all the other littles in the room.
Awkward—that’s what this is. The last thing I want to do is sit around this table with Brooke Moss and try to make small talk. I’d hoped maybe I’d recognize a momma maybe from the gym or anywhere in general, but I come up short. I shouldn’t be surprised. These ladies workout at the high-end clubs.
“It’s just so awful,” Brooke chimes in her over-the-top Southern air as I meet her eyes. “Leaving that little girl to be raised by a man. I’m not sure what Casey was thinking.”
No. Just no. In fact—hell no. We are not talking about Belle’s mom. If Madden wants me to know about that situation, he will tell me. I have no desire to ride on this gossip golf cart that Brooke drives around that big fancy subdivision of hers.
Holding eye contact, I tell her, “I’m not sure what you mean, but no offense, Brooke, I don’t think we should be discussing that. It’s not our busi
ness.” Her perfectly threaded brow slowly arches as her resting bitch face deadpans on me. “I want to make today nice for Belle. She’s a sweetie, and I’m only helping out my friend, Madden.”
A friend can be someone you’ve kissed and had dirty thoughts about, right? A friend can star in your completely too dirty fantasies at night. Yep, nothing weird about that at all.
Brooke holds her hands up as if she’s waving a white flag or saying she isn’t trying to gossip, when she is most definitely trying to gossip. “Oh my, Jordan, I get it. You’re doing a completely noble act,” she praises, her voice all tight and condescending. “Madden has done a great job with his daughter. Gia says he’s a great dad. She’s always telling me funny stories that he relays to her when they have coffee or talk on the phone.”
What the what? Madden and Gia have coffee? They talk on the phone like fucking teenagers or some shit? How did I not know this? I mean, I knew that Gia was the girl he said got away, but I didn’t know he had already made his play. Not that it’s any of my business, really. I friend-zoned the man, and after that kiss I’ve tried to make that fact known. The look on Brooke’s face is proof that I haven’t been able to school my facial expressions. I must look as stunned as she looks victorious. I should’ve expected something like that, though. Brooke and Gia have always been my real-life version of Mean Girls. I so should have used the ‘you can’t sit with us’ line when she first approached the table. Quickly, I try to remove any emotion from my face. I may be sad, and I may have fallen for my client who may never have a real interest in me, but I can save that shit for home. I have to get in the game; today is about Belle. I offer Brooke my best smile but cut my eyes at her, letting her know with my next words this conversation is over.
“Belle is pretty great. She and Madden seem to have fun together.”
“Okay, Moms and family members,” Laney announces, requesting everyone’s attention. “The girls have something special for you to commemorate this special day.”
Belle bounces over to the table, a grin spread wide across her face. She’s carrying two small gift bags that are pink, of course.
“Fank you for coming today,” she says, presenting me with the bag.
She is so excited for me to open it, clapping her little hands together. Smiling, I pull the pink polka dot tissue paper from the top of the bag along with a small pink picture frame with daisies along the sides and an inscription on the bottom that reads, ‘Tybee Tots Tea 2019’. My heart swells even bigger when I register that the photo within the frame is the picture we took only minutes ago on our way in. Belle stands on a pink box, bringing her to head to reach my chest, with her little hand linked with mine, and we are both smiling at the camera. Immediately I know this will always be one of my favorite pictures. Holding back tears, which are just more I can save for the shower later, I hug Belle tight and whisper in her ear, “This is the best gift I have ever gotten.”
