3. Rhett
CHAPTER 3
Rhett
" S o, did you hear that Bessie Simons is getting a divorce?" Josie announced.
"She found her husband diddling the maid," said Gary's wife, Dixie May, giggling.
Yep, her name was Dixie May, a perfect summation of her: old Southern money, perfectly polished exterior, with a talent for gossip that could turn even the smallest detail into a full-blown scandal.
"But then Bessie put on all that weight after she had kids; what did she expect would happen?" Josie shook her head, disgusted.
"I don't think a woman who has children and puts on weight should have her spouse cheat on her because of it," my friend Sage interjected.
Sage used to be one of the mean girls, but as we grew up, we both developed a conscience. She was a lawyer and a partner at her father's fancy white-shoe law firm, but she also did a lot of pro bono work. We'd gotten closer over the past years as we found ourselves morally drifting away from the friends we grew up with.
"Oh, come on, Sage, we're not talking about your marriage," Josie said sweetly, but I knew she was.
Josie didn't like my friendship with Sage and was jealous of it, and God knew why. Sage and I were not sexually involved, hadn't been since high school, since…Pearl. Somehow, that one incident had changed a lot of lives, mine and Sage's included, and I hated to think it, but I knew Pearl's as well. One stupid, heartless mistake had damaged Pearl—but it had helped Sage and me grow up and strive to become better people. It took a few years for us to get our heads straightened—and, even though we still hung out with our old friends, we'd expanded our circles.
I spent time with Royal Legere and his close friend Noah Carter, men who had more on their minds than conforming to Savannah society. They were older than me and, in so many ways, wiser. My father, an archaic patriarch, obviously didn't approve of either man. Royal had broken off from the Legere family, and Noah, well, he had been investigated for bribing a senator, and there had been that sex tape with his wife that pretty much everyone had seen. Somehow, he and his wife Stella didn't seem to care what people said or thought, and I aspired to be just like them when I grew up— if I did.
"Since I don’t have any children, I know you're not talking about my marriage," Sage clipped, "or my divorce. "
“Well, we were talking about cheating spouses,” Josie said, almost waspishly.
That, unfortunately, had been Sage’s spouse, though their divorce came about for more reasons than her husband’s inability to keep it in his pants.
“Josie,” I interjected, a hint of warning in my tone, one she picked up on but, alas, Dixie May didn’t.
"Sleeping with help, it's such a cliché," Dixie May declared heatedly.
The cliché, I thought, was all of us gathered at The Olde Pink House for dinner, talking about other people and their sordid lives.
This was Josie's favorite restaurant, and not because it was elegant, not because it was a stately 18th-century mansion that dripped with Southern charm. Fuck, no. Josie liked coming here because it was the place to be seen.
"Is that Governor Abernathy?" Josie asked, lowering her voice.
I looked around the dimly lit dining room, which had flickering candlelight and low-hanging chandeliers. The walls were a soft blush pink, offset by mahogany paneling.
I found her quarry.
"Yes, I believe so," I acknowledged.
"We should go say hello to him. You know, he's coming to our engagement party."
"Maybe later," I prevaricated. I had no intention of approaching Abernathy. Sure, my father and Josie's knew him well, but I didn't, and I also didn't care to know the asshole, who was more corrupt than the previous guy who used to have his job, which I didn't think was possible.
Thankfully, before Josie could argue, Gary launched into a story about the Governor.
I ignored what he said and looked out through the restaurant's tall windows, into the gaslit glow of Abercorn Street, where my office was located.
You could hear the faint hum of Savannah’s post-work crowd filtering in and out of nearby bars. The street bustled with conversations, punctuated by bursts of laughter from nearby tables. I wondered if they were all talking about some woman and her sordid divorce. What pissed me off was how excited Josie was about this woman getting cheated on. My future wife was not about solidarity with women. Instead, she was all about crushing them and making them feel smaller.
I was relieved when the waiter came to take our drink order—because I desperately needed alcoholic fortification. Maybe Royal was right; I should end this engagement. I could barely stand talking to this woman, how would I stay married to her?
But my father wouldn't stand for it—hers wouldn't, either. It would be a scandal.
When you were born and raised a certain way, breaking free of that mold was damn near impossible. The hardest part, though? I’d never even thought about the life I wanted to live—I had no clue what that life looked like. I wasn’t living by design, I was living by default. You do A, then B, then C. You follow the same well-trodden path everyone else before you had walked—right up until the end. In the meantime, you made a lot of money, got married, had kids, and worked tirelessly to expand the family legacy and protect the almighty reputation. It was the formula, and God help you if you tried to deviate.
The waiter took our drink orders—an Old Fashioned for me, Josie’s usual Sauvignon Blanc, a martini for Sage, a Jack for Gary, and an obnoxiously complicated drink for Dixie May because she had to be a fucking nuisance.
"I don’t care what anyone says.” Dixie May delicately adjusted the napkin in her lap. “Carol Ann shouldn’t be hosting the Historical Society Gala this year. Everyone knows she’s just doing it to climb her way up. You can’t make up for a tacky pedigree, no matter how much money you marry into.”
Gary chuckled, a loud, booming sound that turned a few heads from nearby tables. “Well, Carol Ann’s husband didn’t seem too worried about pedigree when he bought her that monstrosity of a diamond ring. My God, it looks like he got it from a Vegas pawnshop.”
“Gary, please,” Dixie May scolded with a laugh, her pearls practically vibrating with the effort. “We don’t talk about such things so openly.”
Apparently, we did, and Sage concurred. “Only behind her back,” she muttered, just loud enough for me to hear. I glanced at her and smirked.
Sage wasn’t much for Savannah’s social politics any longer. She had developed a sharp tongue that occasionally made these dinners tolerable for both of us. Tonight, though, even she looked like she’d rather be anywhere else. Just like me.
She'd married for family validation, and where had that left her? She was divorced and embarrassed in society because her ex-husband was parading a new belle, a pregnant one, around town. So, the rumor went, that Sage couldn't give him children, which was why he'd simply had to find another woman to impregnate. But Sage was still part of this life, and since she worked at her father's firm, she was, as she said, trapped , just like I was.
Josie leaned forward, her elbow grazing my arm. “Oh, Rhett, didn’t your Aunt Hattie host the gala a few years ago? Now, that was a proper event. Everything was so tasteful.”
The server came then, and Sage and I grabbed our drinks like we were crawling in the desert, looking for hydration.
"Aunt Hattie didn’t." I downed half my drink in one go. "That was Mama."
"Well, she's such a class act, darlin'." Josie fluttered her eyelashes. My mother loved her.
I didn’t have much else to add, and truthfully, I didn’t care. Mama's gala had been just as pretentious as this dinner.
What the fuck was I doing with my life?
“People like Carol Ann don’t get Savannah,” Dixie May drawled. “They think you can just throw money at things and suddenly have culture. It’s insulting, really.”
"When the fuck can we stop talking about Carol Ann?" Sage whispered in my ear .
I chuckled softly, and Josie glared at me.
She'd tried to get Sage to sit across from me, but we'd managed to sit next to one another. In fact, Sage had agreed to come to dinner only because I begged ; I couldn't not go. Josie would make so much fucking noise about it that it would drive me up the freaking wall—well, I was here, and that was precisely how I felt, crazy and up a wall.
The server returned. “Have y’all had a chance to look at the menu?” he asked, his tone polite but efficient.
“We’ll need another minute.” Josie flashed him her brightest, most polished smile. I could tell by the way his smile tightened that he’d probably seen a dozen “Josies” tonight, all with the same perfect hair, perfect clothes, and perfect expectations. He was past this shit.
You and me both, bud!
I opened the menu but barely looked at it. I already knew what I wanted—pecan-crusted grouper, one of their specialties—but I kept the menu in my hands, more as a shield than anything else. The conversation continued without me.
“Speaking of people who don’t get Savannah,” Gary chimed in, “did you hear about the renovations they’re doing at the old Habersham house? It’s gonna be some kind of boutique hotel now. Can you imagine?”
Dixie May gasped theatrically. “A hotel? That house is practically sacred!”
"It's Gabe Rhodes buying up properties to please his wife," Josie claimed. "Savannah Lace is getting that architecture contract. I still don't understand why Aurora still works, you know? I mean, she's married into the Rhodes fortune."
"Maybe because she likes to work?" Sage suggested.
"Oh, please. I'm sure it's because they have an airtight prenup. You know Betsy Rhodes, she wouldn't have let her son marry someone like Aurora without one," Josie continued as she perused the menu.
"And what does that mean?" I asked. The hell with it. I wasn't going to let her make racist remarks around me. I knew Gabe and Aurora, and liked them very much. I also knew Betsy Rhodes, and she’d fuck Josie up for the comment she just made.
"Just that she doesn't come from our circles, darlin',” Josie dropped condescension like magnolia petals in a summer storm.
"And what the fuck does that mean?" I persisted.
"Rhett," Josie rage whispered, "language, please . I just meant that she isn't like us ."
"I hope to fucking God you weren't saying that 'cause she's not white," I challenged.
Josie looked aghast. "I'd never…stop being crass, Rhett. What's gotten into you?" she tittered self-consciously. Her fiancé wasn't behaving like a well-trained pet.
Yeah, that was disconcerting; not you making racist remarks.
"You owe me a freaking case of Burgundy for dragging me here," Sage muttered into my ear.
"What's it that you both keep talkin' hush-hush about?" Josie flashed angry eyes .
"Can we order?" I replied with a non-sequitur. "I'm hungry, Josie."
Josie took a deep breath and gathered herself. Christ!
She straightened and smiled warmly at me. It was completely fake. “Rhett, what do you think of what's happenin' with the Haversham house?”
She was as subtle as a honking goose in church with her effort to show me that she was changing the topic.
“I think Savannah’s gonna do what Savannah always does.” I offered a neutral shrug. “People will complain about it for a while, and then they’ll show up to the grand opening like nothing happened.”
Gary laughed, but Dixie May gave me a look like I’d missed the point entirely. Josie, to her credit, didn’t push, though I could tell she was annoyed. It wasn’t the first time I’d failed one of her subtle “show the world we’re together because we think alike” prompts, and it wouldn’t be the last.
The waiter returned, pen poised to take our orders, and Josie went first, choosing the salmon with a side of asparagus. I ordered the grouper, as I'd decided, Sage picked the scallops, and Gary went for the filet mignon. Dixie May spent an unbearable amount of time asking detailed questions about the preparation of the duck before finally settling on it, her voice dripping with the kind of condescension reserved for someone who’d never had to work a day in their life. She could give Meg Ryan in When Harry Met Sally a run for her money when it came to ordering off the menu.
As the waiter walked away, the conversation circled back to someone new, and I zoned out, letting everyone’s voices blur into the background. My eyes drifted to the window, where the faint glow of the streetlights bathed the sidewalk in a soft, golden hue.
A group of young professionals in suits and pencil skirts laughed as they crossed the street, heading toward one of the nearby bars.
My heart began to beat fast when I saw one of them was Pearl, along with Luna Steele and Aurora Rhodes, from Savannah Lace. They were laughing, and I envied how happy she looked.
“Rhett,” Josie said again, her voice sharp enough to pull me back. “Are you even listening?”
“Of course,” I lied, sitting up straighter and forcing a smile.
"Oh my God," Dixie May gasped, "speak of the devil, Aurora Rhodes just walked in, darlin'."
"With Pearl Beaumont and Luna Steele?" Josie curled her nose. "I can't stand either of them. Luna is just so…you know, masculine . Look at how she dresses like a biker bimbo."
"Pearl's looking good, though." Gary grinned at me. "You remember that time when you won the bet that?—"
"Gary, leave it be," I cut him off. I didn't need the conversation to turn to Pearl.
"Oh God, yes, you were the one who took her virginity and—" Dixie May's eyes were bright with excitement, her malicious intention evident .
"Can we not talk about that ?" Josie interrupted her friend. Her problem wasn't the bet, it was that I had slept with someone before her. Christ but my fiancée was a nightmare.