Chapter 22
‘It would be quite a misfortune to be liked by him.’
The engagement cocktail party wrapped by eight.
Bunny, flushed with success and champagne, declared it a triumph.
The photographer from the San Francisco Chronicle had captured us posed beside the lake, my borrowed jewellery winking in the evening light.
According to Bunny, ‘everyone adored Florence’ and now there would be ‘no issue whatsoever’ with Chase’s club membership going through, even with me in the picture. What a relief.
By nine o’clock, Bunny and Chase Sr were yawning theatrically and ascending to their wing of the house like a royal couple retreating from court.
Chase, undeterred by the vodkas he’d been mainlining since six, insisted on driving us into Burlingame.
Roof down, wind warm, the car coasted down the hill and into town.
I assumed we were heading for a celebratory supper.
I was starving. I’d been too busy performing the part of ‘Charming British Fiancée’ to manage more than a single canapé all evening.
Instead, Chase pulled us into a parking spot on the main street and led the way into a place called Jakes. The bar was dark wood, low lighting, wall-mounted TV blasting football, the air thick with cigarette smoke. The clientele was a sea of jeans and baseball caps.
‘Hey, Walter, I’ll have a vodka and tonic, and a gin and tonic,’ Chase said, sliding onto a barstool like he owned the place.
Walter, a boulder of a man in a faded cut-off tee and full sleeve tattoos, barely looked up from the game score he was squinting at. But as he reached for the glasses, his eyes landed on me.
‘I’m gonna need to see some ID,’ he said.
‘No need, Walter, she’s my fiancée,’ Chase replied, clearly expecting that to smooth things over.
Walter shrugged, unimpressed. ‘Sorry, Chase. She looks way too young. I can’t have the cops walk in and think I’m serving minors.’
‘I’m twenty-four,’ I said.
Walter leaned in a little, squinting. ‘That’s a mighty proper accent you’ve got. Where’s that from?’
It was on the tip of my tongue to say, from me, but something told me Walter might not appreciate the nuance.
‘Honey, show him your ID,’ said Chase.
I shook my head. ‘I left my passport at your house.’
‘No ID, no drink,’ Walter said flatly, already turning back to the soda gun.
Chase shifted on the stool, visibly annoyed. ‘Okay, fine. Just the vodka.’
Walter poured. I stood there, unsure whether to hover or sit. I opted for hover.
‘Can we go to eat somewhere?’ I asked, keeping my tone neutral. ‘I didn’t have anything at the party.’
Chase tossed back half the drink. ‘Nah. I’m good. I had some canapés.’
The smell of bar snacks was torture. My stomach was grumbling.
‘Hey, Chase, good to see ya, my man!’ A voice boomed from behind us. A guy in a plaid cowboy shirt wandered over. They high-fived. He grinned at me.
Chase leaned in, saying something low. They laughed. Another high five. I caught myself watching the condensation roll down the side of Chase’s glass like it was food.
‘Let’s get out of here,’ he said suddenly, tossing some dollar bills on the counter.
Back at the house, I kicked off my heels and made a beeline for the fridge. I had my head halfway into the deli drawer when I heard Chase call out, ‘Gotta pee.’
I slapped together a ham sandwich like a woman in survival mode and opened a bottle of wine. After loading it all on a tray I carried it out onto the deck.
The garden shimmered under a crescent moon, the pool hummed, while sprinklers hissed across the manicured lawn. Somewhere in the trees, cicadas were chirping out their midnight soundtrack.
I dropped into a chair and kicked off my shoes. I was engaged. Officially. The deal had been sealed in champagne-fuelled society.
‘Hey, honey,’ Chase’s voice floated in from behind me. His hands came to rest on my shoulders. ‘You were amazing tonight. Everybody loved you. Even my mother loves you. I want to show you how much I appreciate you saying yes.’