Chapter 40
Jamie sat at the dining table when Etta walked through the front door of the penthouse.
She had a bridal magazine open in front of her, flipping through one dress after the other, still not in love with anything.
I like pieces of this. Pieces of that. It’s too late to get a custom dress, though.
Now, if they were getting married next June like was the original plan…
She didn’t look at Etta as she drank white wine and depressed herself over dresses, for her excitement over completing her bridal party was short-lived, and Etta making her grand entrance at dinnertime wasn’t helping.
“Wonderful,” she said, fixing her jacket as she stood beside Jamie and looked over her shoulder. “We’re still getting married. Wasn’t sure.”
Jamie’s eye twitched.
“I see you’re still mad, though.”
“Really?” Jamie’s exasperated sigh was too heavy to channel through her weary body. “We’re jumping right into that? Was hoping for a bit of a break. Maybe a ‘Hi, honey. I love you. How are you?’”
“Hi, honey, I love you… how are you?”
“Very funny.”
Etta bent down and kissed the top of her head. “I’m sorry. For everything.”
She shot her a derisive glare. “Do you even know what you’re sorry for? Sorry doesn’t count if you don’t get it.”
Yup, they were committed to this conversation. Etta yanked out a chair and sat down. The fact she didn’t whip out her phone and check her emails while Jamie talked was a fair sign that she took this seriously. “Something about the prenup, obviously.”
“You get that I’m not angry about its existence, right?” Jamie clenched her wineglass so tightly that she was probably close to shattering. “I’m not above thinking we can get married without a prenup. You’re worth how many billions of dollars right now?”
Etta grabbed the wine bottle and drank right from the top.
“Five,” she gasped, speaking before she had completely swallowed.
The bottle clanked against the glass table.
“Five fucking billion dollars are in my various accounts right now. That’s not including what my investments are worth.
I’m not going there. It would give me a headache to try to add together right now. ”
“Hmph.” Jamie took the bottle back and refilled her glass. “Obviously, you have to protect yourself. I get that. Now, guess what I’m pissed about regarding Sunday.”
Etta studied the glass in front of her, teeth chomping on her bottom lip and looking as if she were about to go into a boardroom and slice someone’s financial jugular. “Well, I had told you about it.”
“No, you didn’t!” Jamie didn’t mean to aggressively point, but her wine-laden finger had a mind of its own.
“You mentioned something about it weeks ago, but you said we were ‘dropping by’ your lawyer’s office for something personal.
I thought you meant business stuff for you.
Not something that automatically put me on the defensive and implied that I was out for nothing but your precious billions. ”
“I didn’t tell you?”
“How many times do I have to tell you no? I would have remembered something like that.” Oh, would she have.
Jamie would need at least a week’s notice to do her own research, speak with her attorney – whom she still barely knew – and emotionally prepare herself for something very unpleasant. Kinda like going to the dentist.
“I made the appointment on Friday afternoon, right before you showed… oh.”
“Oh? Oh? For fuck’s sake, Etta, don’t tell me you forgot all about it the moment I walked into your life Friday and you started thinking about sex.”
“To be fair, you were rather dazzling. I barely remembered my own name that day.”
“Uh-huh.” Jamie leaned against the back of her chair, facing Etta in the slovenliest position possible.
I smell like wine, and I don’t care. Soon Etta would too.
Too bad they weren’t celebrating anything.
“I’m gonna get over this, Etta,” she began, careful not to really sound like the harpy her lawyer thought she was.
“You have to understand why I was so upset with not only you, but that embarrassing situation. I’m not mad that I have to sign a prenup that protects your assets should – God forbid – we have to split up someday.
It’s not a happy matter, but I’m not dumb. Obviously, it had to happen.”
“I’m glad you understand. It’s certainly not my intent to imply I’m hatching an escape plan to get out of our marriage.”
“Truly. I get that, but it’s not something I can waltz into without fair warning. If we ever have to do something like that again, make sure you tell me.”
“Duly noted.”
“Furthermore, I don’t think you understand the situation I am in.”
Etta’s eyes lit up. “What do you mean?”
“I’m already dealing with everyone thinking I’m your trophy wife.
Having that slapped in my face… even if you so generously changed the terms right away…
was insulting and killed any emotional security I had that day.
No, I’m serious.” She had to stop Etta from replying too soon.
“You need to understand what is going on and why something like that was not okay.”
Etta sat back, exhaling words. “All right. What’s going on?”
Where to freakin’ begin? Jamie didn’t even touch the wedding stuff. That was its own can of worms that would be as productive as a potato working the assembly line in a factory.
Instead, she focused on her struggles fitting in with the rich crowd, particularly the women who had their own code of ethics and manners that Jamie could not understand, let alone emulate.
Why should she even bother anymore? They clearly didn’t want her around.
She was amusing when she was just Etta’s girlfriend.
Because of course a young woman like Etta would want to have her fun with an equally young woman of any standing – all that mattered was that she was hot, sexually available, and someone who was good arm candy at functions and in front of her coworkers.
As for being her wife? Forget it! Didn’t she know that was suicide?
What would happen when beauty faded and Etta was left with a dumbass who couldn’t match wits with her, let alone be a good enough hostess for parties?
Or, barring that, shouldn’t she at least be able to help her with her business…
beyond being her glorified secretary? Etta had proven herself by raking in her billions.
What was Jamie doing to prove herself? Pull down her panties at the country club so everyone could see what a hot pussy Etta had scored herself?
By the end of her tirade, Jamie had tears of frustration in her eyes.
“They all treat me the same. I’ll never be one of them.
Not that I want to become them, but it would at least be nice to go to a party, a restaurant, or the country club without a gaggle of stuck-up fuckheads whispering about me. ”
Etta remained patient, one elbow propped on the table and chin resting in her hand.
Her other hand tapped against the glass, fingers flexing, watch rattling.
“I’m sorry to hear that,” she said. “Of course, my inclination is to say that they don’t matter and you shouldn’t take what they think of you into stock, but I know as well as you do that such a thing isn’t easy. ”
“You’re telling me.” Jamie was ready to break out the harder alcohol. Wine was not going to cut it. “It’s not just about me, Etta. It’s about you, too. Anything I do reflects on you. Maybe you can get away with it around professionals, but if I tarnish your image too much, they’ll…”
“They won’t matter. Jamie,” Etta took her shaking hand, “even if my business went belly-up tomorrow and I lost every one of my investors, it wouldn’t matter. Well, I say that flippantly, but you know what I mean.”
Jamie wasn’t sure if she did.
“We wouldn’t have the same amount of money, sure, but I’ve got some saved in protected accounts that no agency in the world can touch.
I’ve got investments spread across the globe, constantly making me interest. If I lost my primary source of income?
Whatever. Even if I had to use a bunch of my savings and sell off my investments to cover whatever happened to bring my company’s downfall, I would still have enough to get us through the rest of our lives.
It may be a modest lifestyle, but it would be plenty to live a little here or bigger out in the countryside.
Now, do you know why I spread so much of my fortune around just in case? ”
Jamie sniffed. “Because you grew up poor.”
Etta narrowed her eyes. “Because I grew up so poor that some nights I watched my mother count out every coin in her wallet. That was it. That was literally every penny she had. Her bank account was empty and she wasn’t getting paid for four days, but both she and I had to eat.
It may have been noodles and peanut butter, but we ate because even when she bled more money than she made, she knew how to budget. You think I didn’t pick that up?”
“I know you did.” Jamie squeezed her hand as she thought of Etta’s rough upbringing.
When she talks about her mother, I think about how much I would like to meet her.
Anne Coleman was squirreled away in some retirement community in South Carolina.
Etta rarely spoke to her, but the money allowed her mother to stop working and relax for the final years of her life, however long they would be. Does she know we’re getting married?