Sammy.” He grabbed both sides of my sparring head gear with his gloved hands. His hard, dark eyes glared into mine. “ Do not embarrass me, White Boy.”
He had every right to be pissed. Randall had several guys touring the gym today and had been talking me up earlier as one of his success stories. The rich white kid from Ardsley Park who’d won fight after fight, despite having a silver spoon shoved up his ass. And here I was, sitting on the mat, looking like a little bitch.
In my defense, I was completely stuffed and a little buzzed. I’d just gorged myself on a gourmet lunch, and I had no idea Randall was planning for me to perform an exhibition. Mama had lured both Trip and me to The Chatham Club. I hadn’t been to the club since coming back to town, and I was torn about going when she suggested it. The club was the one place besides his study that really reminded me of Daddy.
Daddy. Thinking about him still wrecked me. He’d always been the fun one…the life of the party everywhere he went. Trip had always been a lot like him, actually. My father had always been a joker, constantly laughing and making others laugh in return. And the Chatham Club was his favorite place to eat; he’d get as excited about their brunch as a little kid on his first visit to Disneyworld.
After a bit of private deliberation, I decided that if I was going to live in Savannah, I needed to face the club head on. Knowing Cosmo, she was scheming to fix one (or both) of us up with some well-bred ex-debutante, but she’d scheme Machiavellian-style whether I brunched or not, and a man has to eat.
It was a clear day, so the dining room’s panoramic windows offered an unencumbered view of Savannah’s famed historic district and the river. Seeing the river made me think of Annabelle, and I wondered if she’d ever speak to me again. I’d never seen anyone as angry as she’d been in the car when I’d wedged my foot squarely in my mouth. If looks could kill, Cosmo would have been burying my ass at sea. I’d gone way too far with what I’d said, and it was evident I’d leapt across some amorphous line of hers. I wasn’t sure if she held a grudge, but based on my single afternoon with her, she certainly seemed like the type. If by some sort of fluke Annabelle and Trip turned into something lasting, her hostility toward me was sure to make for some awkward family Christmases.
When the entrees arrived, Trip mentioned that he and Annie were going out to get a dress later that afternoon. Mama seemed peeved that I knew who he was referring to and demanded to know who this “Annie person” was and why she hadn’t yet met her. Meanwhile, I downed my whisky sour, reveling at the burn in my chest and belly. The mental image of Annie in a changing room in various stages of undress was mighty distracting. It irked me that I had given her a second thought. But now that I had, I found it impossible not to give her a third…and a fourth…
When it became evident that Annie’s family was of no importance and that Trip had no plans to introduce the two of them, Cosmo promptly changed the subject.
“Tell me, Son. Has Violet agreed to let you have Maisie for Halloween? I’ve found her the perfect costume.” Mama’s eyes sparkled youthfully when she spoke Trip’s daughter’s name. Though she’d never admit it, I have no doubt that Mama had always wished I’d been a girl. When Violet and Trip found out they were expecting a daughter, I swear Mama was transformed. For the first time in my life, she exuded an undeniably nurturing aura. She smiled more easily and laughed for the first time since we’d buried Daddy.
It was undeniably the “girl factor.” At long last, she had an excuse to buy frilly pink underwear and ostentatious dresses no toddler could actually play in. Little Maisie gave her purpose – a tiny blonde “sugar bean” that she could spoil rotten. Maisie was instrumental to keeping Cosmo relevant in Trip’s life, and she
He had every right to be pissed. Randall had several guys touring the gym today and had been talking me up earlier as one of his success stories. The rich white kid from Ardsley Park who’d won fight after fight, despite having a silver spoon shoved up his ass. And here I was, sitting on the mat, looking like a little bitch.
In my defense, I was completely stuffed and a little buzzed. I’d just gorged myself on a gourmet lunch, and I had no idea Randall was planning for me to perform an exhibition. Mama had lured both Trip and me to The Chatham Club. I hadn’t been to the club since coming back to town, and I was torn about going when she suggested it. The club was the one place besides his study that really reminded me of Daddy.
Daddy. Thinking about him still wrecked me. He’d always been the fun one…the life of the party everywhere he went. Trip had always been a lot like him, actually. My father had always been a joker, constantly laughing and making others laugh in return. And the Chatham Club was his favorite place to eat; he’d get as excited about their brunch as a little kid on his first visit to Disneyworld.
After a bit of private deliberation, I decided that if I was going to live in Savannah, I needed to face the club head on. Knowing Cosmo, she was scheming to fix one (or both) of us up with some well-bred ex-debutante, but she’d scheme Machiavellian-style whether I brunched or not, and a man has to eat.
It was a clear day, so the dining room’s panoramic windows offered an unencumbered view of Savannah’s famed historic district and the river. Seeing the river made me think of Annabelle, and I wondered if she’d ever speak to me again. I’d never seen anyone as angry as she’d been in the car when I’d wedged my foot squarely in my mouth. If looks could kill, Cosmo would have been burying my ass at sea. I’d gone way too far with what I’d said, and it was evident I’d leapt across some amorphous line of hers. I wasn’t sure if she held a grudge, but based on my single afternoon with her, she certainly seemed like the type. If by some sort of fluke Annabelle and Trip turned into something lasting, her hostility toward me was sure to make for some awkward family Christmases.
When the entrees arrived, Trip mentioned that he and Annie were going out to get a dress later that afternoon. Mama seemed peeved that I knew who he was referring to and demanded to know who this “Annie person” was and why she hadn’t yet met her. Meanwhile, I downed my whisky sour, reveling at the burn in my chest and belly. The mental image of Annie in a changing room in various stages of undress was mighty distracting. It irked me that I had given her a second thought. But now that I had, I found it impossible not to give her a third…and a fourth…
When it became evident that Annie’s family was of no importance and that Trip had no plans to introduce the two of them, Cosmo promptly changed the subject.
“Tell me, Son. Has Violet agreed to let you have Maisie for Halloween? I’ve found her the perfect costume.” Mama’s eyes sparkled youthfully when she spoke Trip’s daughter’s name. Though she’d never admit it, I have no doubt that Mama had always wished I’d been a girl. When Violet and Trip found out they were expecting a daughter, I swear Mama was transformed. For the first time in my life, she exuded an undeniably nurturing aura. She smiled more easily and laughed for the first time since we’d buried Daddy.
It was undeniably the “girl factor.” At long last, she had an excuse to buy frilly pink underwear and ostentatious dresses no toddler could actually play in. Little Maisie gave her purpose – a tiny blonde “sugar bean” that she could spoil rotten. Maisie was instrumental to keeping Cosmo relevant in Trip’s life, and she
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