Chapter 7
H IS OLD MAN whistled as Chris brought down the golf club. “Boy, where the hell is your head?”
Chris adjusted the club in his hand before passing it to the caddy. He looked back over the green then peripherally at his father, Chauncy Chennault, rubbing the back of his neck.
“A lot happened at work today, Dad.”
“Well, that’s the problem,” his father grumbled as he moved to take his turn at the tee. He took a practice swing then faced Chris. “The Shores is where we come to unwind. I’ve brought you here since you were old enough to walk and you never saw me shuffling meetings or pushing paper.”
Chris adjusted his cap and glanced back out into the distance. “You did do work here. You still do.”
“I take a phone call or two. You brought your whole damn office here like them folks can’t live without you.”
Chauncy bent at the knees and finally took his real swing. They both watched in awe as the ball sailed through the air, landed, and then rolled into the hole. The smile stretching across his father’s face was priceless. He’d take a beatdown on the green from his dad any day to see him this way. “Gosh durn shame your old man whipping your butt.” They both chuckled. “Sure it’s work? Chloe told me that girlfriend of yours left out mad and in a hurry.”
Asshole. The word made his skin burn and irritation was starting all over again. He still couldn’t believe Carrah had called him that to his face. His run-in with her inside the club was no better. Heather was the least of his concerns as he pondered the way Carrah had lied, and then waltzed into his office expecting his help. The woman had a lot of nerve considering that, for the better part of his life, he remembered her going out of her way to avoid him. Until now, because she needed something. However, he’d spend eternity in Siberia before she got anything from him.
“Heather and I are done.”
“Glad to hear it.” His father’s smooth fair skin crinkled at the eyes as he traced his silver beard.
“Glad to hear it? I thought you liked her.”
“Son, she was easy on the eyes and that’s it. That young lady lacked appreciation of the arts, which your mother loved. Her conversation held no depth, she was caught up in thinking designer labels spoke wealth, and she was without the right pedigree.” His father frowned. “She would have had you—us—embarrassed around the company we keep. You dodged a bullet.”
Chris knew exactly what his father meant. A woman like Heather had not technically been born into the right family by old guard standards. She had not attended certain schools or held membership in social organizations that catered to their kind of people. Heather had surely never summered in the Shores or on the Vineyard until her pop-up days ago. However, Heather had always been honest to a fault. It was more than he could say for Carrah, who could easily meet his father’s lengthy old guard requirements had her last name not been Andrews.
Did pedigree and legacy really matter? For his mother, it was everything. She’d devoted her life ensuring Chris, Chloe, and Carter went to the right schools, had membership in certain organizations, and were prepared to be future leaders. Even if he could convince his father otherwise, he, too, realized he’d dodged a bullet in breaking things off with Heather.
Although, he was certain she didn’t feel the same. Heather had called and messaged him nonstop since they parted ways earlier, begging him to reconsider the breakup. It was the most unattractive thing she had ever done aside from the fact that she refused to apologize for the way she had treated Ms. Watson.
Ms. Watson was like a second mom to Chris and his siblings. She had been a rock to them when their mother took ill and after she passed. Seeing Heather treat a woman he loved and respected as a second-class citizen agitated him. Ironically, it was his defense of Ms. Watson that led to the ultimatum Heather delivered since she believed Chris was supposed to take her side after Ms. Watson refused to cater to her beck and call.
Those ugly insults she hurled at him as he left her in the parking lot would not be soon forgotten either.
Something about the way the day started foreshadowed his sour mood. If only he’d known then who Seraphina Charles was. It’s possible he could’ve avoided one ill-fated episode and the overwhelming frustration that rode him like a witch on a broomstick.
Chris went to the golf cart and slouched behind the wheel. He’d known Carrah all his life, albeit from a distance, but she’d never grated his nerves this bad with the little antisocial stunts she’d pulled over the years. He also had an appreciation for the world of the Black elite, which had forced him to engage in her scheme and was now oddly reminding him of why Carrah was the type of girl he was expected to share his father’s legacy with. Except, she was not an option… never would be unless he wanted to experience the kiss of death. The same could be said of Heather. So now, he was trying to figure out why his father’s words stung?
He gazed out into the distance before watching his father make his way back to the cart. Before his dad could claim the passenger seat, Chris blurted, “Nice of you to finally tell me your true feelings.”
Chauncy recoiled. “You stopped listening.” They looked at each other. “After Morehouse and Harvard, you thought you knew everything. Need I mention how you turned your nose up at the company to be a celebrity attorney?”
“I’m an entertainment attorney,” he corrected his father. It wasn’t the first time his father downplayed the serious work he did within the music, film, television, sports, and publishing industries by throwing the celebrity word around. Chris enjoyed the thrill of negotiating a deal as much as he did providing legal counsel on asset management, intellectual property, copyright, or trust and estate planning. He had pride in his full-service boutique firm, which was rapidly expanding and growing his reputation in the entertainment industry.
Although he was spread a little thin from dabbling in sports and modeling more than he cared to, the expansion would soon allow him to focus on his passion for television, and film. He longed to represent more clients that looked like him who created content for consumption. It was the only way to achieve much-needed diversity.
“Besides, you have Miles,” Chris continued as he gritted his teeth and then pushed the gas pedal down, thrusting the cart forward while jerking his father back into his seat. “I still consult for the company and often provide legal advice. Why is that not good enough?”
“Miles is my nephew. His gifts are in research and development. He lacks business sense but is a chemical genius. You are my son, my legacy. My father passed the company to me and I want to do the same for you. Why is it so hard for you to understand that it would mean everything to me to see you running our empire?”
Chris held his tongue. He didn’t know how to respond. Lately his father had been making comments over his choice to pursue law and open his own firm as opposed to taking up the mantle for Chennault Cosmetics. He knew he was capable of leading the organization. Only, he’d found a sweet spot with entertainment law. He worked with famous people, went behind the scenes of production studios, and received music and books before they went to market. He enjoyed a world where as one of the few Black men in the field he had the opportunity to make a difference for inclusion and equity of minority entertainers. Chennault was old, and stuck in its ways. And… Chris wasn’t sure if he could be in a place that had taken so much from him.
His mother had lived and breathed Chennault to the point where she ignored her health. Her creative genius coupled with his grandmother Olina Chennault’s vision for creating makeup that enhanced the varied skin tones of Black women while affirming a Black woman’s beauty, kept her up many nights. Days were no better, and the arguments she had with his father over the direction of the company were never fun to hear. It was the reason she had supported Chris when he decided to forge something new and create his own legacy.
He missed her, and if she had been here now, she would’ve erected barriers to the fulfill your family duty conversation that he felt had been lingering on the horizon.
Silence sat between them like a patient old woman. The quiet stretched on even as they continued the game. After his father took his last winning swing at the eighteenth hole, he strolled over to Chris and wrapped an arm around his shoulders. They started back toward the cart with each one restrained from speaking as though they were afraid of saying the wrong thing.
Finally his father broke the silence. “My dreams are not yours. I know that.” His father’s arm slid from his shoulders and they faced each other. “I promised your mother I would not force you into the company, and I won’t. I’m sorry, it’s just I can’t help wishing you were there with me, especially now that she’s gone.”
“I understand. I miss her, too,” Chris admitted. “Maybe one day.” He shrugged and it produced a smile from his old man.
“As long as you continue to review our important contracts—”
“You have my word, Dad.”
His father nodded, gesturing for them to make their way back up to the clubhouse. “Let’s go grab dinner. Maybe make some trouble at the card table?” Chauncy nudged Chris with his elbow.
Right after they loaded up and were preparing to take off, the blaring sound of a horn came from behind. Chris and his father turned around only when they heard his name being called. To his surprise, he saw his brother Carter, riding along with his best friend, Gavin Lancaster, and his younger brother, Xavier. They zoomed up beside them and slammed on the brakes.
“What in God’s green earth are you fellas doing riding around the course like that?” Chauncy puffed, abandoning his passenger seat and going to stand in front of the other cart. Chris didn’t miss the menacing stare aimed at his brother. “You gonna have them white folks ready to toss us out of here.”
Carter climbed down from the cart. “Chill, Dad. We pay our money just like them.” He then pointed into the distance where a golf cart full of white boys were riding around being loud.
Chauncy watched. Instead of this relaxing him, his frown became harder. “We aren’t them, Carter. Have you learned any—”
“Dad,” Chris barked, leaving his seat and going to his father’s side. He motioned for his brother to stop talking.
“Sorry, Mr. Chauncy, you’re right. My parents would say the same.” Gavin offered an apology, attempting to smooth over the tension as he gave Chris a sideways glance.
Everyone held their breath and watched as Chris’s dad mumbled under his breath while making his way back to his seat. Carter made praying hands and mouthed, Thank you Jesus , while Chris and the others held back the urge to laugh. This was not the day to antagonize Chauncy Chennault.
“What’s up?” Chris finally asked Gavin over a bubble of laughter.
Gavin cleared his throat, hardly able to suppress his humor. “Typical summer shenanigans. You down for a guys versus girls kickball game?”
Chris cackled. “What? We haven’t done that in like ten, maybe eleven years.”
“I know.” Gavin released a chuckle. “The girls thought it would be fun. I mean, the whole gang is here. Quinn texted us all, but you didn’t respond. She’s trying to round up the girls now. We’re thinking the south lawn. You in?”
Not this time. The words almost rushed from his mouth while he ignored his brother’s cheesy grin. If the girls were organizing, then Carrah would be there and she’d been more than exhausting for one day. Then, of course, in front of all their mutual friends, he knew they would slip into that our families are rivals mode and have everybody on eggshells.
Chris glanced over his shoulder at his father. He’d promised to spend time with him. Therefore, he’d sit this one out. “Nah, I’m good. Dad and I were about to grab something to eat.”
“Bruh,” Carter boasted, “they’re in tennis skirts.” He slapped fives with Xavier.
“Who is they?” Chris asked flatly. “Gav mentioned Quinn, and I’ve only seen Ava and Carrah here. Are you trying to keep their company?” He snickered. “A little old for you, don’t you think?”
Chagrin flashed across his brother’s face. “Age ain’t nothing but a number,” Carter said boldly. “The girls y’all’s age are fine. Especially Carrah!”
“Don’t forget Chareese and Ava. That whole little crew,” Xavier added.
“Don’t let Dunc hear you say that. You’re literally escorting his sister this weekend at the ball and Reese is his girl even if he hasn’t said it out loud.” Gavin side-eyed his brother longer than what was normal before he focused back on Chris. “It’s the usual suspects plus a few girls these knuckleheads’ age like Destiny, Alexandria, and Whitney.”
Chris heard Gavin, but he was still processing his brother’s bold proclamation. He refused to look over his shoulder at how his father might have reacted. Thank God the words Chauncy probably had for his youngest son would be on reserve until they were home out of the public eye.
While it was true that all the families that summered in the Shores annually were aware a rivalry existed between the Chennaults and the Andrewses, most attributed it to business competition. Chris had naively assumed the same until he was a teenager and made the mistake of saying that Carrah was pretty. His mother quickly told him that pretty things were poisonous like their father. From that moment, he understood that the distaste his parents held for Carrah’s family extended beyond the backstabbing that had occurred over three decades ago.
The summer months had always placed them in proximity due to their closeness in age. Hence, they were forced to share friends or sometimes miss experiences. The limited interactions untied the blindfold of youth and proved his mother right. He’d learned to keep his distance, and Carter needed to as well. There were rules he need not forget.
“Chris.” His dad called him closer to the cart. There was no surprise that Carter’s comments had drawn his ire. Chris released a long breath and went to his father’s side. “It takes more energy to stay mad than it does to have fun. I don’t want you boys to end up like me… or your mother. Grudges of the father don’t have to be weights for a son. Family pride aside, gone on and have fun. You just said you had a long day and maybe time with the people you’ve got into trouble within the Shores may help you unwind. This is why we come here and have every year since you were old enough to walk.”
“But—”
“ Pas de mais. ” His father’s hand sliced the air. “Gavin,” he called around Chris, “your old man here?”
“Yes, sir. He’s up in the lounge,” Gavin replied.
Chauncy and Chris met eye to eye. “See, I’m good. Besides,” his father chuckled, “if that girl is anything like Camille, she doesn’t have time for Carter.” He howled in laughter, slapping his leg as he moved from the passenger side and sat behind the wheel.
“I’ll see you back at the house tonight. Thanks for the round of golf… and make sure your brother doesn’t make a fool of himself. You hear?” He pointed at Chris, winked, and then pulled off.
Chris wished to ride his father’s train of thought. The man loathed everything about the Andrewses, and yet he was encouraging them to spend time in a place where they were knowingly present. He doubted old age was making him soft. If anything, he was willing to bet that his actions were sentimental, considering the impacts left behind by his mother.
“Y’all ready?” Chris asked the lot of them as he made his way to Gavin’s golf cart. The second they confirmed, he hopped on with them and said, “We better win.”
“They’re girls,” Xavier and Carter said at the same time.
Gavin slammed on the brakes. He and Chris turned, looking skeptically at their younger brothers. “Do me a favor baby, bro,” Gavin said. “Never repeat that sexist shit again. The women you reference are not at all average.”
Chris shook his head as Gavin began driving again. “Nooo. They’re like that tribe Wonder Woman hails from when it comes to competition.”
“Hell yeah!” Gavin burst into laughter. “Kickball is just the start. They may act all sweet and proper, but they go hard. Be prepared.”