Page 9 of A Smooth Operator

"I'm sure Tommy wants as little to do with the wedding hoopla as possible." I poured Dad and me a finger of George Dickel's 17-Year Reserve, our favorite whiskey.

"Wonder where Marina wants to get married." My father toasted me.

I gaped at him. "Why would you say that?"

My father frowned. "Son, it sounds like you're pretty serious about her. Your mother and Kiki Sims have been talking about engagement parties this fall."

"Engagement?" I almost choked on the whiskey I'd taken a small sip of. "What the fuck, Dad?"

"You're not serious about this girl?"

I shrugged. "I don't know. Is there a rush?"

"Not for me. But for Marina and your mother? I think so." Dad again sounded like he'd given up and didn't care what was happening.

Is this what married life was like? Boredom sprinkled with some excitement in the form of engagements and weddings.

"I'm not ready to marry anyone," I announced.

"Hey, don't tell me; tell your mama." Dad, who was sitting on a leather couch, waved a hand toward the window where the two were gossiping. "Oh, and also inform your girlfriend."

"I don't understand what's the big hurry," I grumbled.

He cocked an eyebrow. "Is she pregnant?"

I now wanted to throw up. The who? The what? The…what the fuck?

"No. I wrap it up, Dad, and she's on the pill."

"You sure about that?" He wasn't teasing; he was serious as fuck.

I knew my parents got married when my mother was pregnant with me. I'd never thought about it because they'd been dating for two years before that, but now I wondered if Dad had actually wanted to marry her. They didn't have much in common. My father liked to read medical journals and clinical studies, while my mother flipped through pages of Vogue. He liked to spend his time hiking, and my mother preferred the spa. He didn't like parties; she lived for them.

The truth was that I was more like Dad than Mama. I wasn't as much of an introvert as him, but I needed my me time and quiet space. Working in the business that I did, which was inherently a people-heavy one, I liked to spend my days off hiking or taking my bike and going on a long ride. Since I started dating Marina a few months ago—actually, it had been eight months and way too fucking soon for her to even think of engagement rings and wedding destinations—I was spending more and more of my off-and-on days with her and her friends, which included my sister at my night club or one of the Beale Street bars.

I was thinking about going away for a few days to the Smoky Mountains and just sitting in the cabin and staring at the wide-open spaces. Marina had lost her shit when I suggested it—especially since the family cabin was barebones. I knew she would, which was perfect for me because I needed some alone time.

I liked Marina. I probably even loved her. I knew she suited me. She'd make a good Mrs. Drake, almost as good as my mother. But then I looked at Dad drinking slowly, looking forlorn, and I wondered if it maybe was folly to marry someone with whom I'd have the same marriage my parents did.

Chapter 4

Echo

"Idon't know, Lani." I was comfortably ensconced on my couch with a book and a glass of wine on a Friday night. The last thing I wanted to do was go to Paint the Town Red to keep Lani company who was struggling with not being able to have a destination wedding because Tommy wanted to get married in Memphis.

Shoot me now!

"Echo, please," she whined.

God, I hated it when she did that. Lani was a friend, even if she acted like she was doing me a big favor by letting me hang out with her. I figured that out early on. She was lonely and didn't have many friends she could trust—actually, I was the only one. I knew all her secrets. The miscarriage she had at twenty—I drove her to the emergency room. The time Tommy cheated on her and broke her heart—she didn't talk to me for two months after they made up because she was afraid I'd judge her. But I wouldn't. I told her whatever she did was her business, and I'd be her friend no matter what. I owed the Drakes that.

Lani wasn't a bad person. She was, however, thoroughly spoiled. Unlike Remi, who'd worked hard and continued to work hard to be successful in his chosen career, Lani had decided to get married and be a society wife like her mother. I'd tried to put her on the career path, but Lani didn't have it in her to work hard or even spend time figuring out what she enjoyed doing.

I gave up in the first year of my PhD because I mostly didn't have the time to baby Lani. I was stressed out of my mind studying night and day, accumulating as many credits as I could so I could finish sooner rather than later. My goal was to get a job, pay my bills, and work on a cure for cancer—and in that order.

While I'd succeeded at my life goals—I had a kick-ass job that paid very well, and I was working diligently on a gene therapy cure for cervical cancer—I'd failed at my other secret goal: to get Remi Drake to notice me. He'd noticed me alright—as a slut who was sleeping with his father. His accusation and assumption still mortified me. Did I look like a teenage Barbie type who could be a trophy bang? I was five feet five—average height. I had a not-ugly face with a half-decent nose, brown eyes, and normal lips. I had brown skin because my mother was black, and my father was probably white or multiracial. I grew up being too white for the African American community (like my Aunt Fern) and too black for the white people (like Lani and co). I didn't fit in. Period.

"Echo, please?" Lani cried.

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