“Yeah, Wayzata isn’t cheap. Just wait until you see the collection of cars in the garage. He has four… or maybe five German imports.”
“Oh lord, of course,” she mutters, shaking her head. “Your father finally has free will to spend his millions on whatever he wants. He never was the best saver.”
“You are telling me. Let’s pray that he doesn’t lose his job.” I chuckle, momentarily fantasizing about him suffering from theconsequences of his actions, but my stomach gurgles as I dabble back to the present. I don’t want anything terrible to happen to him, I just wish the world didn’t stroke his ego twenty-four hours a day.
And don't even get me started on Jackson…
“Well, after that scandal with his groom-to-be, I don’t think anything would get him fired.” My mother adjusts the strap of her devil-red satin dress, a color that complements her pale complexion.
We hand the keys to the valet and step inside, the door is open and the massive house is swooning with activity. Catering staff running back and forth, offering gin and tonics and a variety of appetizers. The churn of conversation echoes against the vaulted ceiling. From the fullness of the room it appears that most of the guests have already arrived.
My eyes devour the silhouettes in the room. All of the men are wearing near identical dark color tuxes, varying shades of black and blue, making it impossible to pick out Drew or Charlie. Not to mention that all of them are like six feet tall, pretty much carbon copies of one another.
My chest aches to speak with Charlie, but if I stumble into Drew, I might make a break for the lake to yak my stomach contents to the bottom feeders. I’d rather swim with the fish, than confront him with the truth—that I want nothing to do with his arrogant arse.
A waiter strides by with a polished silver tray of cocktails. I pluck two before he can finish his spiel. “Lemon Drop Martinis,” he murmurs.
“Thank you,” I say, offering one to my mother before taking a giant sip of mine. The sugared rim is a little pick-me-up for my blood sugar. And of course a bit of vodka to take the edge off my nerves.
“These are delicious,” my mother laughs, as she licks the sweetened edge.
“Pace yourself, they hit harder than they let on,” I warn, my eyes darting from figure to figure, my blood rushing as I see a man with a mullet identical to Drew’s. My throat tries to swallow my Adam’s apple.
Then the man turns as he laughs to reveal his side profile, a nose far too angled and an olive complexion.
Fuck, what I would do for a propranolol right now. Anything to help me chill the fuck out, to keep my nerves from trying to spring out of place.
I didn’t disinvite Drew or Charlie… but I know for a fact that the viper will stroll in to show his presence. To assert his dominance. And to tempt me with his bared teeth.
Charlie’s the wild card though. He has a sense of decency, a developed moral compass of right and wrong. It would be quite bold of him to show himself.
“Oh honey, you don’t have to worry about me. I’m probably better off being drunk today than sober,” she says. “A tad of liquor helps to soothe my GERD, believe it or not. My doctor doesn’t really approve of my methods.”
I shake my head. “Whatever you say, just please don’t make a scene.”
“I’ll consider your request after I utilize the bathroom,” she snickers, heading off toward the designated ladies' room for the evening.
I make my way to the outdoor deck for some fresh air. Plus, it’ll be a lot easier to see Drew coming than in a room full of matching tuxedos.
My lungs yank in a heavy inhale of the brisk air sliding in off the lake. There is a strong marine odor to it, but not too potent. Just the right amount to let your nose be aware that there are walleyes and lily pads close by.
Out on the water, a few boats zip out in the distance of the lake, enjoying the glory of speedboating before the ice claims its annual domain.
Then a voice breaks my train of thought. “Well, well, well… Look who it bloody is. Austin Schmidt in the living flesh. My brother nearly took you out. Huh?”
I turn, my heart wiggling in my chest from the sight of him.
Charlie.
My Charlie.
His classic cheeky smirk on display paired with the British zing that takes my breath away.
“Your brother really took me to the last piss you know,” I manage, my lips forming into a smile.
“I warned you… didn’t I?” he asks, stepping closer, his breath reeking of malted hops. An essence that is devastatingly mouthwatering and groin expanding.
“Perhaps, I can recall something of that sort.” I tease, licking my lips, trying to play it cool even though my stomach is bouncing up and down like my insides are on a trampoline.
