Making the Grade (13 page)

The bubbly blond clutched Rex’s arm and whispered something. She shifted, and Faith swore she saw a nipple. A glance at Brian and his raised brow told her he’d seen it too. Unlike the gentlemen across from him, Brian looked away, turning to Faith.

“Thank you for covering up,” he whispered. “Because if you ever wear something like that out in public, I won’t be responsible for fucking you on the closest hard surface available.”

She choked on the water she’d been drinking, then nearly spat it across the table when Rex added, “Yeah, what he said.”

His low voice sounded uncomfortably familiar, and she whipped her head around to see him smiling at her.

Oh my God.
It was him. Her watcher from the club. “
You
.”

Rex opened his mouth and paused after a glance over her shoulder, then seemed confused. “Excuse me?”

She looked at Brian, but his puzzled expression made her question her suspicion. A glance back at Rex showed him shaking his head, then smiling, as if he’d been caught answering something Brian had said or done.

She spun to face Brian again. “What did you say to Rex?”

“Huh? Nothing.” He took a sip of his wine.

She glanced back at Rex, only to see him involved with Barbie. Or Candy, Camille. Whatever her name was. Faith had completely forgotten. Before she could interrogate Brian further, the lights dimmed and the speaker at the podium introduced Judge Goode.

The dinner passed quickly while they listened to the judge and a few of his friends request funds for the botanical and golf museum additions, as well as a youth program to help inner-city children use the facilities to learn.

It seemed like a nice charity, if not one she’d be dying to pledge her money to. Sick kids, the elderly, education, sure. But helping children learn about golf? Not so much.

After dinner, she excused herself to the ladies’ room. After using the facilities and rechecking her makeup, she left and nearly ran into a woman who’d been staring at Brian most of the night. A pretty, dark-haired woman with what had to be fake breasts, because most women that thin didn’t carry that much weight up top. And no way were breasts ever that perfectly rounded.

The woman smiled, showing bright white teeth. “So you’re Brian’s new squeeze.”

Faith wondered if she planned to sink them into her. “Hello. We haven’t met.”

“Of course not. You’re obviously not one of us.” The woman draped a hand toward her. “Darcy Stanfield.”

“Faith Sumner.”

“Pleasure.” Darcy’s tone dripped with condescension.

“So you know Brian?” Faith tried again, determined not to do anything to embarrass him. She admitted to herself the woman intimidated her. So confident and refined, Darcy looked as if she’d been born to a silver spoon and wiped her nose with hundred-dollar bills.

“We dated. Then I ended things.” She tsked. “Sadly, he didn’t take it well. He must be so…desperate. How is poor Brian faring?” The look Darcy shot her couldn’t be mistaken for anything but a queen peering at a peon.

Behind the bitchy woman, two other well-dressed women tittered.

“He’s just fine.”
I sucked him off just the other day, right before he gave me multiple orgasms, thank you very much.

“He is, isn’t he? But you dear thing, don’t get your hopes up. He’s just playing, sweetie. When he’s ready to join the big girls again, he’ll drop you back into the gutter where he found you.” She snorted. “Did you get that dress off the rack? A Target knockoff, hmm?”

Annoyed, because Faith had found the cute dress at Ross’s,
hello
, she decided to give Darcy the fight she wanted. Besides, it wasn’t as if Brian would care.

She thickened her accent. “Well, hell, yeah, honey. I got this dress at Walmart on sale for just ten dollars.” Then she stepped closer and whispered in a loud voice, “I just have to know. Are those titties real? ’Cause I gotta tell you, I paid a right fortune for mine.” Faith glanced down at her own chest and grinned back up at a shocked Darcy. “Just like your nose and lips.” Faith skimmed her finger down the woman’s nose. “Oh, wait, now I know why you looked so familiar. Ever worked at the Skin Flint on the east side? I’m thinking you ride the pole in a white thong and pasties. Am I right?”

The woman’s eyes grew so wide Faith thought Darcy might faint. She stalked away instead, muttering about lowlife trash and security, her two toadies following behind.

Faith chuckled, and behind her someone clapped.

Hoping to find Brian or Rex, she wasn’t prepared to see Dr. Jeremy Pichter, asshole extraordinaire, in the flesh.

Brian laughed at something Rex said, standing by the bar while he waited for Faith to return. He figured he’d put in enough time schmoozing with his father’s friends. He’d donated a few bucks as well. Time to call it a night.
 

At least his father couldn’t say he hadn’t tried. For years, Brian had done nothing
but
try, until he realized nothing he ever did would satisfy the old man. So after moving away for ten years before returning with his own fortune, he’d tried once more. When even his money failed to impress his father, Brian figured nothing would.

More than ready to leave, Brian looked around again and saw Darcy Stanfield tearing toward him across the floor, Brenda and Kelly behind her.

Rex groaned. “Here comes the shark and her remoras.”

Brian snapped his fingers. “Of course. Remoras. It’s Shark Week on TV, isn’t it? Love those things. Brenda and Kelly, not so much.”

“I hear that. Still, they were right fine in the sack. Not Darcy, though. Fella’s gotta have some standards.”

“You know it.” Brian clinked his glass against Rex’s. “Where’s Faith?”

Darcy arrived in time to overhear him and sneered. “Figures you’d be slumming with that piece of trash you arrived with, Brian. And lo and behold, I find you with Reginald, too?”

Rex groaned. “The pain. Make it stop. That name wounds, seriously.”

Brian shook his head. “Can I help you with something, Darcy?” His stupid hormones had led him down the wrong path with the woman when he’d first returned to town. And she never let him forget it.

He’d done the right thing—thank God—and turned her down when it became apparent she only wanted him for his money. A trade—she’d spread her legs, and he’d keep her in diamonds and four-hundred-dollar shoes. No thanks.

“Your girlfriend asked if I did pole dances at the Skin Flint. Where do you find them, Brian?”

Rex choked on his beer.

Brian grinned. “Actually, I found her on the corner turning tricks. She’s not cheap, but she’s damn good on her knees.”

Darcy’s eyes bulged. “Oh my God. You are such a pervert.”

“Honey, if you think that’s bad, you really need to get out more.” Rex snorted.

She started insulting Rex and his entire family, with Brenda and Kelly chiming in. Brian readied to defend his friend until he saw a man talking to Faith, one who put a guarded look on her face.

“Be right back,” he said.

“Hurry, I’m dying here, man,” Rex begged.

Brian hustled to Faith but was waylaid by a few older women, friends of his mother’s. He shuffled past and managed to nearly reach Faith, but before he could join her, someone else bumped into him, sending him around the corner, hidden by a large fern. He peered around the wall and through the fronds, watching her reactions.

“Really, Jeremy. How could you think I’d want anything to do with you again?”

Brian stilled, then leaned closer, listening intently.

“Faith.” Jeremy chuckled. “I know you’ve already wrapped those claws around someone else. Someone rich and connected, no doubt.” The man’s laugh grated on Brian’s last nerve.

“Look, Dr. Ass, I admit I was with you for the wrong reasons. I gave you the God complex you needed, and all you did was put me down. I’m glad I broke it off.”

“You were worth every penny, though. God, that mouth.”

That’s it.
Brian was going to deck the guy.

“If you remember, I left all that clunky, ugly jewelry you bought me at your place. Too bad I couldn’t return the memory of your small, uninspiring dick as well.”

Oh. That was nice. He grinned.

“You little bitch.”

“That’s big bitch, Jeremy. See these heels? You don’t take your hand off my arm, I’ll shove one of them through your balls.”

“Try it.”

Brian stepped around the corner and crossed his arms over his chest as he leaned against the wall. “Faith?”

Before she could respond, Dr. Jeremy Pichter, an esteemed orthopedic surgeon who worked on the golf pros who ventured down to the Masters Tournament each year, turned to face him.

“Well, well. If it isn’t Brian Goode. Nice to see you again.”

The prick. Brian didn’t take the hand Pichter offered.

Jeremy lowered it. He glanced from Brian to Faith. “Good God. Tell me you’re not sleeping with this whore.”

“That’s white-trash whore to you,” Faith piped up. She spoke calmly, but Brian could see the angry, embarrassed flush on her face.

“Faith, let me handle this.” He stared at Pichter, then smiled, throwing the man off balance. “She actually prefers
hooker
, Jeremy. And you are
so
right about her being hell on wheels in the sack. She practically blew my mind the other day. That and other things, am I right?” As he turned around, he elbowed Jeremy in the gut, seemingly by accident, but hard enough to send the man wheezing. “Shit. J, you okay?”

He pretended to lean closer to help, then head-butted Pichter when he straightened. Jeremy shrieked and stumbled back, his nose bloodied.

Brian feigned more pain than he felt. “Damn it. Faith, get help. I think Jeremy busted my head.”

“I’ll hurry.” He saw the laughter in her eyes as he continued to complain about a headache.

Two servers soon joined them, following Faith. One of them took Jeremy away. Brian waved the other off. “I’m good.”

“Yes, sir.”

“But you might want to help Dr. Pichter. I think he broke his nose.”

The server nodded and hustled off to get Pichter medical attention. Faith stood next to him, joined by Rex, who was watching with amusement.

Brian tugged at his jacket sleeves and crooked his arm for Faith. “I’m tapped. My head hurts, and if I have to look at Darcy one more time, I might vomit.”

“Brother, I am so there with you,” Rex commiserated.

“Where’s your date?” Brian asked.

“Her grandmother took her home. Said she didn’t want me corrupting her precious baby. And man, I had some major corruption planned.”

Faith laughed. “You’re bad, Rex.”

“You have no idea.”

But Brian did. “Well, go corrupt someone else. We have plans.”

“Bye, Rex.” Faith put her hand on Brian’s arm and walked with him out of the ballroom into the lobby of the hotel. “We have plans?”

“Yeah. After a sundae at the ice cream parlor, you owe me a look under that dress.”

“I really do,” she agreed. “After all, your poor head.” She gripped his arm and planted a kiss on his lips that aroused him without effort. “My hero.”

“Come on, you skanky hooker. Ice cream, then a visit to the Skin Flint and we’re golden.”

She blushed and laughed as they exited the hotel. “Pole dances for everyone!”

The attendant waiting by Brian’s car stared at her with wide eyes. “Some kind of party, huh?”

Brian winked. “Oh yeah. These rich guys really know how to throw down. Jay-Z is doing a second set and I think the judge just killed a hooker.”

The young man watched them drive away with his mouth open.

Faith put her hand over his on his lap. “Well, I’ve spent worse evenings.”

“If you dated that dickhead Pichter, I bet you have.”

She grew silent. “I’m sorry if I embarrassed you.”

“Seriously? I’m just sorry I didn’t bust a few of his teeth along with his nose.”

She snorted, then burst into laughter again.

“Oh yeah. Ice cream, here we come.”

Chapter Ten

Faith didn’t know how she’d done it, but she’d survived the night among the rich and obnoxious without suffering too much damage.

She’d never admit it to anyone, but seeing Jeremy had been a good and bad thing. Good, because she knew now what a bad fit he’d been and thanked her lucky stars she’d left him. Bad because, despite the immature insults hurled at her by people she couldn’t care less about, they’d ripped a chink in her armor.

“Faith, how did the verbal attack make you feel?” Dylan was asking the next evening at her session.

She needed to talk to someone about her weird feelings, and Dylan was the perfect foil. “It empowered me, and it made me feel bad.”

“Why?”

“Because even though I knew that bitch was just jealous, not to mention plastic,” she added nastily, noting Dylan’s smothered grin, “she got to me. I hate that.”

Dylan steepled his fingers under his chin. “Why did she get to you, do you think?”