AllFreeNovel
Share Us
“I can assure you, Mr. Dawson. I am not related to yourmemawor any of your family,” she harrumphed.
Momma interrupted the conversation, not liking the tone of her little garden party. “So, Boregard, tell us about your mother and father.”
My asshole clenched shut. “Bo doesn’t need to tell his entire family history, Momma,” I said through gritted teeth, tapping her leg under the table.”
“I don’t mind,” Bo chirped, looking at the uptight old biddies. “My momma ran off and left me when I was four days old so I never knew her, and my daddy drowned after he fell off a fishing boat. My memaw raised me.”
I’ve never seen more sets of over-plucked eyebrows lift in unison after Bo’s admissions. “That’s wonderful,” Momma said, grimacing.
And the rest of the meal was a lesson in subtle impoliteness. The sad truth was that Bo never lost his sense of kindness and honesty, something I didn’t think Momma’s friends appreciated.
Momma walked us to the front door after the standard thirty minutes of post lunch gossip. I leaned in and hugged her. “That was a total shit show, Momma, and your friends are beyond rude. Thank you for a truly horrible afternoon.” She raised one eyebrow, confirming she couldn’t possibly care any less then turned to Bo.
“Thank you, ma’am. The meal was delicious,” Bo said, shaking her hand.
I drove down the drive then waited for the sensors to activate the massive rolling gate.
“I don’t think they liked me,” Bo said. “I’m sorry if I embarrassed you.” He stared out the passenger side window and sighed.
“Look at me, Bo,” I said, grabbing his hand and holding it tightly. “You could never embarrass me. I love you and I lovewhoyou are. If anyone should be embarrassed, it’s Momma and her awful friends.”
“I don’t do good in those types of situations, Hayes. I try real hard but rich folks don’t like me.”
“I’m a thousand times richer than those bitches, and I think you’re amazing,” I stated. “I’d rather be around you than a bunch of snotty social climbers. You’re perfect in my eyes.”
Bo fiddled with his seatbelt, letting out an exhausted breath. “So,” he began, his shoulders falling in despair. “How many people did you say will be at the yacht club party?”
CHAPTER FORTY-SEVEN: Bo
The week after Hayes’ momma’s party I was feeling like a fish out of water. I had zero in common with any of the people I had encountered thus far and I was feeling homesick for fresh ocean air and the simple routines of my life.
Since Hayes had been missing for six weeks he was far behind in his responsibilities so he had nonstop meetings every day. He tried to appease me with promises that life would calm down and that we would be able to spend time doing other things besides eating out in fancy restaurants each night of the week. Interestingly, he hadn’t mentioned Spam since we’d arrived in Charleston.
That morning at breakfast I mentioned to him that I needed something to do. A job or a hobby, anything to pass the time. “I can’t deal with idle hands all day, Hayes. I’m not accomplishing anything by not working.”
“But you don’t need to work, Bo. I’ve got all that we’ll ever need, baby.”
I pointed at him and frowned. “You’vegot allyouneed,” I stated. “I’m not a part of that side of your life, Hayes. I need something for me, and I don’t mean money.”
He set his cell down and moved the contracts he was reviewing to the side, focusing on me. “You have me, baby. Whatyouhave and whatIhave are all parts of the same sum,” he explained. “I know for a fact that if you were wealthy you would consider what you had to be mine as well. I feel the same way, baby.”
He had a point but the words didn’t cure the gnawing inadequacy that I was feeling. I didn’t want to feel kept. I also didn’t like playing a role that didn’t fit me; and running around with Charleston’s pedigreed citizens every time we went out wasn’t cutting it for me.
I stood. “I’m going to the docks today, Hayes. Text me when you’re done for the day.” I headed for the door of his office, forgetting to kiss him goodbye. He answered a call and I realized that not only had I forgotten, he hadn’t even noticed.
Those were how our days went ever since I arrived on his home turf. Hayes was slipping away from me and I was losing the battle to everyone else in his orbit. Folks seemed to need his opinion and approval twenty-four-seven, and I’d become a piece of furniture in the room. Even the loving and relaxed Hayes was being replaced by a man I didn’t recognize. Hayes was completely fried by the demands on his time and his focus shifted a hundred percent in that direction. I hated that I recognized the feeling twisting my gut. I was lonely, even though he was here.
After putting on the jeans and T-shirt I’d first arrived in, I headed for the nearest bus stop and plotted a route to the waterfront. I needed to be with people I felt compatible with. Once I was at the security station at the entrance to Hayes’ community, one of the guards asked if he could call me a cab or Uber.
“I’m walking to a bus stop,” I said.
“There are no bus stops out here for at least two miles, Mr. Dawson,” he argued. “It’s too hot out here for you to be walking around, sir.”
I removed my T-shirt, tucking the shirt into my back pocket. “Thank you but I’m walking.”
I’d been called Mr. Dawson more times in two weeks than my pop-pop probably was in his lifetime. I couldn’t get used to the formality, and of course I was certain the formal address was due to people assuming I had money because of where I lived and who I dated in Charleston.
The bus let me off along the commercial area of the docks. The tourist sections of Charleston’s waterfront were a few miles away from where the commercial fishing boats and processing warehouses were located. That’s where I would find my people. I walked along the pier and watched as the first boats returned to dock after early morning fishing out at sea. Most were large commercial vessels with huge nets and crews of ten or more.
