Crazy Love (33 page)

I took his phone from him and played the video. Some amateur footage of Dashul Stein started to play. Violet, Jayse, and Savannah’s most buxom drag queen all played a role. I felt Mama watching over my shoulder. When it ended, her eyes sparkled with excitement.

“Looks like you won’t have to move to Charleston after all,” she mused, as I passed his phone back to him. Trip actually managed a smile. He turned to me.

“They’re at St. Joseph’s/Cadler. Annie says Vi’s there and they’re still waiting for information. I’m heading over there.”

“You two go on. I’ll stay and handle all of this.” Mama offered.

I followed Trip through the crowd in a daze. It took a while; since he was the guest of honor, even sneaking out the back entrance wasn’t easy. All the while, my mind sifted through the new information sluggishly, as if I were snowshoeing through wet sand. My first instinct was to call Annabelle. But I’d demolished us just as swiftly as we’d gotten together.

We cut out the fire escape exit like a couple of criminals and scaled down the back side of the warehouse into the alley. Moments later we were in the Mercedes and zipping toward the interstate.

“I sure hope you’re okay to drive. We’ll be fucked if you get a DWI,” Trip admonished as I cut between two cars.

“I’m fine,” I snapped. I planned to beg Annie for forgiveness. Sex wasn’t the only part of our relationship she ought to have control of. Her trauma was hers to handle. She’d been strong for years before I came along, and I needed to shut up and remember to have her back. My desire to be her champion made me overzealous, and if this resulted in my losing her, it’d be the end of me.

When we finally walked through the entrance, Dale, Violet and Annie were all curled up in chairs. Violet jumped to her feet and threw herself at Trip. They kissed like he was going off to war, oblivious to the rest of our collective existence. Dale and I exchanged awkward waves, and the moment was even more awkward due to Annabelle’s inability or unwillingness to look at me.

“Have you heard anything?” I asked, directing the question to Dale, as he was the least likely to claw my eyes out.

“They took him in for a head CT. He was hit in the face, and when he fell, his head ricocheted off the sidewalk. He never lost consciousness, so it’s just a precaution,” Dale explained.

Taking a chance, I took the seat next to Annabelle. She looked pale, and her makeup had been washed away.

“I’m hoping it knocked some sense into him,” she mumbled. Dale nodded, but I saw fear on both of their faces.

“The silver lining to the black cloud.” I took her speech as a good sign and hoped to keep her talking.

The physician approached before anyone else had a chance to speak. Jayse had a concussion and needed to stay overnight. He was doped up on morphine and singing show tunes. In other words, his outlook was promising, and he was expected to make a swift and full recovery.

On our way out of the hospital, I stopped Annabelle on her way to Dale’s car.

“Can I give you a ride home?” I asked. She looked up at me and nodded reluctantly. We drove in silence for several minutes as I thought of ways to open a dialogue. Finally, I decided the best way to tell her how I felt was to show her. I turned right instead of left, and she shot me a glance.

“My apartment’s that way.” Her words had a soft lilt.

“I need you to see something.” I glanced at her to read her face.

She sighed. “I’m tired, Sam.”

“It’ll take ten minutes,” I promised and drove through the back streets until we pulled up in front of The Beaumont Building. It was the length of a city block. Though it was originally constructed in 1910, I’d gutted it, and construction was finally finished. Some of the lights were on.

“I don’t understand.” She frowned at the sign with my last name on it. I took her by the hand, and we walked through the front door. There was a brand-new, full-court gymnasium on the right just visible by the security lights, and to the left was a full blown gym. Randall was fiddling with the speed bags when we walked in.

“Look who decided to come into work today.” He called from across the large room. Annabelle waved to him, but she wore a look of unmistakable shock.

“What is this, Sam?” She met my eyes. She no longer looked the least bit sleepy.

“My passion. You challenged me to do something with my money to change the world. I started a foundation. This youth center is a part of it. When I needed a place to be, to focus and stay out of trouble, Hard Knocks was what worked for me. I wanted to give that back to the community.” I led her back out and up the stairs to the second floor dance studio and showed her the computer lab. When we got to the meeting rooms, I flipped the lights on.

“Trip suggested a place for support groups. As he pointed out, it’s not just the kids who need to stay out of trouble.”

“Sam…I don’t know what to say.”

“You don’t have to say anything, Dahlin’. Just listen.” I leaned against the desk and wrapped my arms around her waist, pulling her close. She didn’t protest; she just watched me shyly from under her lashes. “You’re the one. You push me. You said life was a pie with four quarters. You have heaping helpings of the direction and ambition, and I lucked out and inherited the genes and the money. Together we’re unstoppable.”

A tear slipped out of her eyes and raced down her cheek. I took her face in my hands and locked eyes with her for emphasis.

“Sam…I’m afraid.” She admitted.

“Me too. Annie, I know I fucked up. All I can say is how sorry I am. And I’m sure I’ll screw up again and again. But I can’t let fear stop me before I’ve even begun. And neither should you. The day we met, you said something about my lack of ambition. That it wasn’t a disease. I agree, but I think it can be crippling just the same. You’re my light, Annabelle. You led me off of a dark path, and I’m asking you to continue the journey with me.”

She searched me with those gold-flecked eyes of hers, and just when I was sure she’d pull away, she rose onto her tiptoes and captured my lips with hers. Her hands gripped my hair, and I felt my chest swell so much it hurt. When she finally pulled away, her cheeks were flushed pink, and she was glowing.

“I’m all in.” She panted, happiness shining in her eyes. “Let’s do this.”

As we descended the stairs, we stopped dead in out tracks when we heard Randall singing along with a Pitbull song. After falling into fits of laughter and throwing a few insults his way, we stumbled out into the night. I stopped her right outside the front door.

“So can I take you to Paris?” I whispered in her ear as I nuzzled her neck

The corner of her lip curled in a fiendish manner. “You’d better!”

I bailed Annie’s mom out the following morning. While she and I were busy making out at the Beaumont Building, Harlow had been trying to break into the pharmacy using Annabelle’s keys. She got caught just minutes after we discovered Annabelle’s purse was missing. Harlow may play a mean black jack, but that woman is no master thief.

With Trip and his sponsor’s assistance, we found her a good rehab program and an even better lawyer. She agreed to go to treatment in lieu of jail time; Harlow was many unspeakable things, but she was no fool. Annie told her to keep her distance and lose her address. She was finally
done
, and Dr. Wilson wholeheartedly supported this course of action.

Annie’s grandparents already had custody of Dylan and Becca, and their mother’s absence didn’t seem to be a new phenomenon. Annie called them regularly to keep up to speed on their lives. Dylan would graduate soon and was considering coming to Georgia for school. Annie cried when she heard both the kids were in therapy, but she assured me the tears were happy ones.

Paris was an amazing time. We ate baguettes at street cafes, made fun of snooty Parisian assholes, and left flowers at Jim Morrison’s grave. The Catacombs were beyond amazing. We wandered around wearing out our cameras, and I honestly think I was more impressed with them than she was.

On our third day in Paris, I dragged her shopping and insisted she buy a cocktail dress. Then I took her to 58 Tour Eiffel, the restaurant at the Eiffel Tower. In an admittedly douchey move that I was
sure
she’d hate, I’d slipped an engagement ring into her glass of champagne. To my surprise, she burst into tears and pummeled my chest with her fists. Then she squealed “Yes! Yes! Yes!” just like a normal girl. She never ceases to amaze. Evidently, even the French applaud when a girl accepts a proposal in such a manner.

Trip and Violet quietly started seeing one another again. Maisie began telling everyone her parents were getting remarried and she was going to be their flower girl. Trip and Vi just laughed at her and gently chided her to slow it down. They assured anyone who would listen that they were in no rush to the altar. Violet told Annie they wanted to take their time this go-round and really savor one another.

Patience got all huffy at Black Keys during our engagement party. We were too wrapped up in each other to notice a thing, but you can bet Jayse was right in the thick of things. Pending nuptials were exploding all around Patience—two of her co-workers were also getting married—and she was sick and tired of being a bridesmaid. She gave Randall an ultimatum, and he finally caved and set a date. They’re getting hitched in June, and we’re walking down the aisle in October.

Annabelle plans to start a program at the foundation when she finishes school. She sees a community need for medication deliveries and pill box assistance for the elderly. The pharmacy schools seemed excited for their students to intern in the program. Her professors have been generous with advice in starting such an ambitious program. It’s uplifting to know that I have the tools to help so many people touch so many lives. I think if Daddy’s looking down at us, he’s smilin’.

All lollipops and glitter aside, things aren’t always perfect. I wouldn’t say we’ve found ourselves engulfed in a fairy tale. Sometimes I catch Annie staring at her ring when she doesn’t know I’m watching. She’ll be sunning herself on the balcony or lying in bed with a book, and I’ll watch those stunning eyes of hers reflecting on the sparkling rock. Sometimes, she’s smiling. Other, more frightening times, she wears the blankest look I’ve ever seen.

Will we make it? I don’t have any idea. Are we happy? I think that we are, more than most. We know we’re lucky to have found each other, and we aren’t likely to let each other forget it anytime soon. I like to think we both saved each other from a life of just going through the motions. I plan to spend every day of my life showing her what she means to me. Will I be successful? Who the hell knows? I want to be. All I know is what my heart tells me. And my heart speaks clearly. It tells me-in no uncertain terms that Annabelle Clarke is my Angel.

Without a doubt, this is the hardest project I’ve ever undertaken. It’s a fiction/fact fusion, though which is which, I’ll never tell. Laughs were had, flesh was inked, books were burned, tears were shed, and some cocktails may have been harmed in the making of this book. A few folks need to be acknowledged for playing their roles.