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They both laugh at the memory.
“Now the skinny-dipping night…” Clifton lowers his voice. “I have a feeling you organized that too.”
“It was so hot in those cabins,” Mercedes says, glancing at me. “I was just cooling off with a midnight swim, and my suit was still drying from earlier that day. How was I to know everyone would follow little ole me?”
Clifton is about to make a comment, but I stand and put my napkin over my plate.
“I hope you’ve enjoyed your evening,” I say to Clifton.
Clifton takes the hint and begins to rise, but Mercedes grabs his hand and holds it. “Sit, Clifton. We haven’t even had dessert. Besides, this is the most fun I’ve had in forever.”
“Well,” Clifton looks at me. “If Judge says—”
“Pfft. Judge will be fine. He’s much older than us,” she says conspiratorially to him but loud enough for me to hear. “He needs to get his rest what with his important work. You go on to bed, Judge. I’ll make sure Clifton is… entertained.”
When I take a step toward their end of the table, I’m not sure if I’m going to grab her by the hair and haul her to her feet or take him by the collar and kick him out, but I do neither as Clifton pulls his hand free.
“I’d better go anyway. I have an early day tomorrow.” Clifton stumbles over his words, nearly knocking his chair over to put distance between himself and Mercedes.
“That’s a good idea,” I say. Mercedes makes to rise, but I set a heavy hand on her shoulder to stop her. “I’ll walk you out.”
“I’ll come too,” Mercedes tries again to stand, and I squeeze, then lean down until my mouth is beside her ear.
“You’ll go upstairs and wait for me to come up. I’ll deal with you then.”
18
Judge
It takes all I have not to shove Clifton out the door. Truth be told, I feel sorry for him. Mercedes and I both used him tonight.
But as soon as he’s gone, I take the stairs two at a time, and on the landing, I watch Mercedes. She’s only halfway down the hall because she must have been eavesdropping. Her hands are fists as she walks angrily to my room.
“You don’t want me, but you won’t let me go, either,” she accuses as soon as I’m inside and I’ve closed the door behind me. “You play with me like I’m a fucking yo-yo, and I’m done!” She stalks into my closet to start pulling out her clothes and tossing them onto the floor in her rage.
I grab her arm and spin her to face me. “What the fuck was that?”
She tugs free and shoves me with both hands. Sadly for her, she can’t budge me, so she takes a step back to put space between us.
“That was me trying to get a husband. Remember that little thing, Judge? All good Society girls need a man to manage them. You’ve made it very fucking clear that you don’t want me. Like I told you the last time we talked fucking weeks ago before you did what you do best and disappeared. Again.”
“You think your behavior was appropriate tonight?”
“What? I can’t flirt with a man I’m attracted to?”
“You’re not attracted to him!”
“No? How do you know?”
“Because I know your type.”
“And what’s that? Big giant bully who likes to humiliate me again and again and fucking again?”
“I keep you away for your own good.”
“You just keep telling yourself you’re doing this all for me. You just wasted my chance.”
“What chance? You’d really marry that man? That boy? He’s at the bottom of his class. His family isn’t exactly swimming in money. What do you think he wants out of a marriage with you?”
