Crazy Love (18 page)

Somehow the subject of Mama came up, and Annabelle turned to Trip.

“You never got to finish telling me what the deal is with Mr. Wakefield,” I heard her say. Trip whipped his head in my direction as if worried I would hear her, and I raised my eyebrows at him.

“I’m dying to hear this, too,” I confessed. Until tonight, I hadn’t realized Trip’s reaction at the Chatham Club had anything to do with Wakefield. I assumed it was all about Violet’s engagement, but after observing their confrontation in the receiving line, I viewed his urgent need to smoke during brunch in a different light.

“And I’m dying for a cigarette,” Trip replied, pushing back from the table. He was on his feet and gone before I could speak. I shot Annabelle a “what the hell” look, and she shrugged in response, her expression mirroring my own.

I didn’t want to press him. He was finally doing well, and stressing Trip out was the last thing on my to-do list. I was a lot more interested in getting Annabelle alone. But as I said before, Trip was not a hateful person. He wasn’t snarky. He didn’t hold grudges. In short, he was my polar opposite—yin to my yang. So as I sat pushing my dessert around on my plate, I become more and more agitated until I dropped my fork and excused myself, tossing my napkin on the table

I headed toward the nearest exit on a hunt for my brother. As I stepped outside into the night air, the river and the humidity greeted me like an overly friendly neighbor waving hello. I wandered beyond the valet circle and squinted, looking left and right up the street. Seeing no sign of him, I went around the building to the river side of the Marriot. As I approached the steps, Annie exited a back door right into my path. I paused to acknowledge her, wondering why she was leaving the comfort of the air conditioning, and she gave me a sheepish shrug. Part of me was envious, but mostly I was glad to see Trip had another ally in his quest for well-being. I turned away to survey the river walk, and by the lights of the Talmudge Bridge, I could see Trip down near the river. He wasn’t alone. I heard raised voices and recognized one of them as his. Remembering the altercation with Dashul Stein earlier that evening, I hurried in his direction.

As I drew near, my feet faltered when I realized that the three men with Trip were Sebastian Wakefield and his bodyguards, not the Dash the Douche Bag and his merry men. I wasn’t sure whether to be relieved or alarmed. I was vaguely aware of Annabelle’s heels clicking on the ground behind me, and I strained to make out what Trip was saying.

“You will not breathe a word of this to him,” I heard him growl at Wakefield, yanking his arm out of the bigger bodyguard’s grasp. “Don’t even look in his direction, so help me God!”

Wakefield chuckled playfully at Trip as if he were a toddler throwing a tantrum in the toy aisle.

“Grow up, Trip. He’s dead. Do us all a favor and just let it go.”

Annie kicked off her shoes and went to descend the stairs in front of me, but I grabbed her by the arm. They hadn’t spotted us yet, and I wanted to hear the rest of the conversation; I needed to finally understand what the hell was going on with this Wakefield character. Annie looked confused, but I heard Wakefield speaking again and there was no time to explain.

“He has a right to know, don’t you think?” Wakefield asked, puffing on his cigar. Trip flicked his cigarette into the river and ran his hand through his hair.

“What purpose would that serve? It’s not his fault his mother’s a whore. It wasn’t Daddy’s either, though there was no convincing him of that once you were done mind-fucking him.” Trip’s words knocked the wind out of me. Suddenly I wanted to turn and go. I just wanted to walk. Away from the hotel, out of Savannah, and right on out of Georgia. But like a rubbernecker at the scene of a traffic accident, I was fixated on them. Annabelle had hold of my arm, and I heard her gasp beside me.

The four men below heard her as well. They all turned in our direction, and a wall of uncomfortable eyes stared up at us. With one last knowing glance at Trip, Wakefield approached the stairs followed by his entourage. He surveyed Annabelle casually, and then his eyes rested on mine. He appeared thoughtful and amused, but breezed past me without breaking his stride. Dazed, I watched him enter the hotel. Then I was descending the stairs.

“Sam…” I heard the slow delivery of my name…the faint note of caution in Annabelle’s voice, but I ignored her and moved on toward Trip and the answers he possessed.

Trip lit another cigarette and aggressively shrugged out of his tuxedo coat.

“Trip?” I breathed out the humid air that felt like it was dry cleaning my lungs and waited.

“I promised not to tell you.” He sounded low. As low as I’d ever heard him. Mournful.

I was starting to shake all over and felt like my stomach was turning itself inside out. “Promised who?”

“Daddy.” He sounded very young, like a small child afraid of the dark.

“Tell me what?” I’m not an idiot. By this time, I suspected the answer, but it was time to have it out. No more cloak and dagger bullshit. No more hinting around or haughty glances across the parlor. It was truth time if I had to beat it out of him.

“God dammit, Sam!” Trip’s voice broke, and he covered his eyes with his palms. He managed not to drop his cigarette, and I found myself focusing numbly on the burning cherry at the end.

I took a deep breath. My whole body felt foreign, like all of my limbs had fallen asleep. “Say it, Trip.”

He turned to me, his cheeks flushed. Rage and fear seemed to batter him, and I saw tears standing in his eyes. “He’s your fucking father, okay? Sebastian Wakefield’s your father.”

Trip’s revelation seemed to suck the oxygen out of the atmosphere surrounding the three of us. The endless implications spiraled in my mind, but my feet seemed to have a mind of their own, and they carried me toward Sam. He hadn’t moved or blinked, and his face set in a disbelieving frown. I was irrationally terrified that he might stay frozen that way forever.

A tear slipped down Trip’s cheek, and he aggressively swiped at it with his arm. His labored breathing was the only sound breaking the maddening silence. I wanted to take some action, to say something diplomatic to them both, but I wasn’t equipped. As well read as I was, I’d never reached the section in Emily Post that advised what to say when your fake boyfriend’s brother (whom you lust after) finds out he’s a bastard.

Sam blew out a slow breath and walked right past Trip to the railing overlooking the river. He gripped it with both hands as if it were his sanity he was trying to hold onto. All the while, the frown he wore hadn’t moved a fraction of an inch. Trip glanced unhappily at me and then joined Sam. He seemed to steel himself, prepared to wait patiently for whatever fallout was coming. I stepped up to the rail and turned, leaning my elbow on it. I stared intently at them both and realized their profiles looked nothing alike. Their speech patterns, hair color, eye color, and smiles were practically identical, but everything else about them was wildly different. It was a marvel how quickly the simple power of suggestion had affected my perception of their resemblance.

“Wakefield outed the affair at my engagement party. I’m not sure what he said to Daddy exactly, but he more than implied he’d slept with Cosmo. I have no idea why he chose that night to tell him, or what brought it about. I might have never known about it at all, but I just happened to notice Daddy gone from the party and went looking for him. When I found him in his study, he was drinking scotch directly from the bottle.” Trip took a drag from his cigarette, his eyes never leaving the river. “He kept pacing back and forth, completely fired up. Spouting off about defending Mama’s ‘good name’ and that sort of thing. He told me he wanted to go to Wakefield’s hotel and kick his ass. I tried to talk him out of it; I really did. I told him it was all total bullshit, that the dick was just a jealous nobody with some old axe to grind. But he’d have none of it. He was already drunk, and I’d never seen him so…crazed. It was pretty clear he was going with or without me, so I had no choice. I went along as the designated driver. My phone kept on buzzing the entire way there. I’d left the party without a word to Violet, and she kept calling and texting me. But what was I gonna say? ‘Y’all will have to excuse me for a bit, Daddy and I have to go beat the shit out of someone. Go ahead and help yourselves to some more Prosecco?’”

I saw Sam’s eyes dart to Trip and then back to the water. It was obvious to me that he felt cornered and he looked so lost that I thought I might cry if I didn’t look away. He also looked like he’d rather jump the rail and dive into the river than hear the rest of the story, and I needed to keep an eye on him.

Trip swallowed hard and turned to Sam. His eyes flicked in my direction, and for a moment it seemed like he’d forgotten I was even there. “When we arrived at the hotel, Wakefield was sitting down to dinner. Obviously he wasn’t the slightest bit surprised to see Daddy. He seemed caught off guard at my arrival, though. His body guard showed us in. He had his henchmen even back then. I suppose when you conduct yourself like he does, you need constant protection. He was sitting at the head of a dining table eating prime rib like the lord of the manor.”

Sam seemed more and more restless with each passing sentence out of Trip’s mouth. He turned away from the river and leaned against the railing with his arms crossed over his chest as if warding off Trip’s words. He worked his jaw muscles so hard, I was concerned he might hurt himself. His attention fixed like a laser sight on his brother, and I saw him shift into self-defense mode—completely void of emotion. I had the distinct impression that the lost, panicked Sam from earlier would have been the better alternative. I could almost see him fortifying his walls and climbing into his suit of armor.

“Daddy didn’t even sit down.” Trip’s voice was so hard he could have cut through inch thick glass. “He just said ‘start talkin’, Sebastian.’ Wakefield had that stupid shit-eating grin on his face and started in on how nothing would have ever happened if Daddy had given Mama the attention she deserved. The icing on the cake was some comment about how idiotic he was to believe you were a month overdue. Daddy looked white as a sheet, and I got
pissed
and completely lost my shit. I put my cigarette out right on the table, ready to throw down. I was in his face, calling him a liar and a fucking slimeball. He laughed at me and said ‘you’re a real chip off the old block, Reggie boy. You Beaumonts are all bark and no bite.’ So I punched him in the mouth. Then his goons were all over me. The next thing I knew, I was slamming into the wall and crawling on the ground, seeing double. One of his guys kicked me in the ribs, and I heard Daddy cry out in pain. I think that’s when they broke his wrist. Then things got a bit fuzzy. I remember looking back at Wakefield as they were dragging me out. He dabbed at his bleeding lip with his napkin. Fucking psychopath. He didn’t even put down his fork.”

All the color had drained from Sam’s face, and I reached out for his shoulder. He pulled away from me without looking in my direction, and I’d be lying if I said it didn’t sting. As I pulled my hand back from him, I met Trip’s eyes. I could tell he suspected how I felt about Sam, and his eyes seemed to tell me to back off and just let it go.

“On my way out of the suite, I got a good look at Daddy, and I knew the damage was already done. He believed Wakefield. Completely. And since he knew both Cosmo
and
Wakefield a hell of a lot better than I did, that was enough for me. And I could see that it crushed him. That asshole was Daddy’s best friend, and he’d just ripped his beating heart from his fucking chest and tossed it at his feet. I’m no fighter; you know that. But I wanted to murder him with my bare hands for the defeated look on my father’s face.

Right before they tossed me into the hall, I heard him asking Daddy if he remembered the weekend he’d flown to Concord to sign contracts with some company. I sat dazed on the floor, trying to catch my breath and wondering if my ribs were broken. A few minutes later, Daddy came out of the suite and quietly pulled the door closed behind him. When we got to the car, he popped the trunk and took out a tire iron with his good hand. I watched for about ten minutes while he took out his frustrations out on the car. So help me God, I was unable to think of a single thing to say to comfort him. He didn’t say a thing to me, either. Not even when we started for home. I can only imagine how embarrassed and defeated…he felt, on so many levels. I know I did.

When we turned onto Victory Drive, I looked over at him and saw tears rolling down his face. He told me if anyone asked, we’d been in a car accident and he finally looked at me for the first time since I’d been thrown out of the suite. He said ‘no one can ever know about this, Trip.’ He made me swear not to discuss any of it with anyone. Mama…Vi…you. I told him that it was madness, that we
needed
to at least tell you. But he wouldn’t budge. So I promised him.”

Trip was quiet for a long time, but I could tell he wasn’t finished with his story. Just when I was sure I was mistaken and debating on what to say, he spoke. “He wasn’t the same after that night. I never saw him smile after that. He quit going to social events altogether, and one night at the yacht club, his lawyer let it slip that he was skipping board meetings. I tried to talk to him about it and thought I got through when he made an appointment with the law firm. I figured it was a consult about a divorce. My guess is that was probably when he changed his will. Cosmo was so stinking busy opening Imogene’s that she didn’t notice a thing, and I couldn’t think of a way to point out his…deterioration without breaking my word and violating his trust.”