“I plan to,” I tell him, though my mind is already on dinner, and seeing Vivienne. Then, thank God, I have hours without her, time to put her out of my mind, and the opportunity to rot my brain with booze, my buddies and beautiful women.
Exactly what I need.
Chapter Ten
Reed
Ididn’t hear a single word my professor said in Probability and Statistics today. Not a word. Not to mention, I didn’t take a single note, yet when I left class, the board was covered in blue ink.
Not good.
I’ve never been the guy that gets distracted in class. Never. Through hangovers, flus, heartache and death–I pay attention, damn it.
But ever since that night at the beach…
“I almost didn’t go that night,” I tell Fabian as he adjusts his cufflinks, both of us standing staggered in front of his bedroom mirror.
Fab, eyes still on his wrist, says, “oh yeah?”
“Yeah. I almost stayed in and worked on my Combinatoric Structure final notes. But my mom was so amped on Elijah and his daughter getting here, and she was so set oneverything being just right. The flower arrangements in every room, the pressed edges on the damn bedding–I just needed to get away from that, you know?”
Fabian eyes me in the mirror. “I mean, not really, because my mother requires perfection for all things, not just for special moments, so I’m used to that constant flurry state.” He taps his breast pocket, where he hides a few joints. “But I found the cure.”
I clap my hand on his back, between his shoulders. “You’re a genius.”
“Fabian Frank,how are you my dear? How are your parents?” my mother scoops Fabian’s face up in her hands, squishing his cheeks as she kisses one. To her credit, she smooths her hand over the pink lip mark she leaves behind.
He smiles, swiping discreetly at his cheek. “Hi Ms. Lancaster. I’m good, and my parents are good. My dad is in Europe right now and my mother is with him.”
My mother reaches for her pearl necklace, rolling one of the delicate spheres between two fingers as she converses with Fabian. “Pleasure I hope?”
Fabian shakes his head. “Business.”
“Ah, that’s too bad. I know how hard they work. I hope they find time for a little bit of pleasure,” she smiles, then turns her focus to Elijah entering the room. “Elijah, this is Fabrian Frank, his father is Darren Frank, and his mother, Elsa and I are bridge friends. Fabian and Harrison have been friends since theywere five.”
Elijah, wearing a smile, extends a hand to Fabian, and they shake. “Good to meet you, Fabian.” He looks my way, clapping a hand on my shoulder. “Harrison, good to see you. What class did you have today?”
Elijah has been learning my schedule. And in doing so, he asks me pointed questions about my coursework. It’s exactly what I need in a mentor, but today, I can’t handle his questions because I was spaced the hell out in lectures, thinking about Vivienne.
“Probability and Statistics,” I reply, heat rising up around the collar of my dress shirt. “Hey, Elijah, have you been to Clear View Country Club yet?” I look over at my mom, and Fabian does the same. “Ms. Lancaster, tell me you’ve taken Mr. Beaumont to the club?” Fabian adds, and it’s at that moment I make a mental note to write hisLord of the Fliespaper.
My mother’s head falls to the side as she fits an opener over a cork, opening a bottle of wine. “With furnishing Vivienne’s room, getting her enrolled in school, and sorting a few personal things–we haven’t had time.” She takes note of our suits. “You two going to the Young Entrepreneur's mixer tonight?” The cork comes out with a pop, and Elijah produces two long stem glasses for her to fill.
“Right after this lovely meal, Ms. Lancaster,” Fabian answers, wearing a charming smile. “Well, we’re picking up Sinela first, then heading that way.”
My mom’s face brightens, but I don’t miss the way her eyes slide to me for a moment. “I haven’t seen Sinela since Harrison’s graduation party last summer. How is she? Still aiming for Harvard?”
Fabian nods, his face all lit up the way it always is whenhe talks about his girlfriend. “She’s good. And yeah, she did early acceptance to Harvard. She got her letter a week ago. She’s excited.”
“And what about you?” mom presses. I know this is a sensitive topic for Fab since he doesn’t want to leave Florida, but I don’t have to bail him out because at that exact moment, Vivienne pushes through the swinging den doors, her arm linked with another girl. A girl who I don’t even see. I can’t.
Vivienne, in a knee length emerald pleated skirt, fitted white polo and knee-length white socks, pops a hip, resting one hand there as she surveys myself and Fabian. Her blonde hair drifts down her shoulder in loose waves, waves I see strewn across my pillow or waded up in my fist. “Dad, you said dinner was casual,” she starts, but my mother’s laughter cuts her off.
“Oh don’t worry, Vivienne. The boys are only in suits because of the dress code at the Club. They’re heading to an event there after dinner.”
“The Club?” Viv questions.
“Clear View Country Club,” the girl on Viv’s arm fills in the blanks, grabbing our attention. “Hi,” she greets shyly, raising one hand. “I’m Ricky. I have classes at Dulce with Viv.”
