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“Speaking of hearings,” Sissy interjected, clearly annoyed that she wasn’t the center of attention, “Holden, how did your big hearing go yesterday?”
My first thought was to wonder why Sissy knew about this big hearing. Followed swiftly by wondering why Ididn’tknow about this hearing. I’d been sharing work things with Holden all week, and he hadn’t mentioned a hearing. My brow furrowed as I looked down at my plate of sea bass crumbs like it had all the answers I needed.
Holden cut his eyes over to Macon before answering. “It went well. I’m confident the ruling will be in our favor.”
“So, you really make games for a living?” Grandaddy asked from next to me, forcing me to turn my attention away from the other side of the table.
“I’m a software developer. I write code,” I explained, trying to keep my annoyance hidden. “For computers. Sometimes the coding’s for a game, but the company I work for has also developed several very successful apps.”
“That’s an interesting career choice for a young lady.”Oh good,I thought, trying not to roll my eyes.I was so hoping this dinner would involve a complimentary trip back to the 1950s; lucky me.Then he continued, “But at least it’s a career.”
He glanced in the general direction of Sissy, and despite agreeing with him, I bristled. Tainted — that was how I felt in that moment. I felt tainted by my relation to Sissy. She was the yardstick my entire life had been measured by, and I resented that fact more than I should as an adult. I ignored the fuzzy cotton feeling that was making my thoughts slow and scattered and opted for another drink.
“There still aren’t many women in the tech industry, but things are changing,” I finally managed, choosing my words carefully. “Maxine also works with me at OmegaVs.”
“Sutton — that’s an unusual name.” His beady eyes squinted thoughtfully, done with the topic of women in tech for the moment. “Is it a family name?”
I nodded, taking another sip of champagne. My gaze locked with Holden’s over the rim.
“It is. I’m named after my great-grandmother.”
“Ah! That’s where I recognized the name. Your great-grandmother — didn’t she shoot her husband?”
“She did,” I confirmed, thinking of the feisty woman who was my namesake. I smiled. “Six times. Three times in the dic —”
Maxine stood abruptly, pushing back her chair and tugging my arm upward.
“Excuse us, I need to powder my nose.” She looked down at me, her smile clearly forced. “Sutton, would you accompany me, please?”
“I don’t need —”
“Wonderful,” she interrupted me, using her freakishly strong muscles to practically pull me up and out of my chair. “I believe I saw the powder room this way.”
I stumbled a little trying to keep up with her. “Why do you keep saying ‘powder’?”
She continued dragging me across the room, those unnaturally strong fingers digging into the flesh of my arm. “People are going to think I have some kind of bladder issue. This way,” she said, tugging me around a corner.
“Owww. What is wrong with you?” I whined, trying to shake off her grip.
“Me? What is wrong withme?” she hissed incredulously, shooting daggers at me without slowing down her forced march one bit. “I’m saving you from making a completeassof yourself in front of your future grandfather-in-law or whatever the hell that crusty old toad is going to be when your sister marries Macon. And I said ‘powder’ because ‘I need to go to the bathroom to smack some sense into my idiot friend here’ didn’t seem fit for polite Southern company. You’re welcome, by the way.”
I shrugged. The alcohol buzzing through my veins cocooned me in a shelter of nonchalance I wouldn’t normally feel.
“Who cares? He already thinks I’m trash.”
“Yes, but now you’re going to befamilytrash.”
“Is there a difference?”
“Yes!” Maxine exclaimed, throwing her hands in the air. “There’s abigdifference, Sut. I’m from Jersey, so you’re just going to have to trust me on that one.”
Maxine pushed open the bathroom door with more aggression than was necessary, and I had to scamper through behind her to avoid getting a door to the nose. She bent down to peer below the stall doors, looking for feet. She shot up, placing both hands on her hips and glaring at me menacingly.
“You seem upset,” I stated with the help of all the champagne sloshing around in my body.
“Yathink? Glad to see the booze hasn’t affected your observation skills.” She held up her thumb and pointer finger, an inch of space separating them. “I was this close to sealing the deal with Richard. This close to our yacht, Sutton, but some drunk fool needed saving. I might not be a proper Southern lady, but I feel pretty confident that telling a story about someone getting shot in the dick isn’t appropriate dinner conversation.”
I scrunched up my nose, choosing to ignore her very valid point about the appropriateness of sharing that particular story.
