Page 58 of Best Laid Plans

"Exactly," I smiled cheekily.

"Just because you're black?"

"And the daughter of a whore. I think it also was a problem that I didn't have a penis," I drawled.

I thought he'd laugh, but he laced his fingers with mine. "I'm so fucking sorry, querida. That's so damned unfair."

I was going to reply when the murmurs around the restaurant rose, and a shadow fell on our table.

Anson looked at our joined hands. "Did a work dinner turn into a date?" He was angry.

Diego didn't let go of my hand. "Since you took your own sweet time, we thought maybe we could convert it into a date; but then you showed up and ruined everything."

There was a warning in Diego's eyes, even though his tone was friendly and teasing. Anson heeded the warning and sat next to me.

"You can let her fucking hand go," he muttered.

Diego laughed as he very slowly did so.

Anson looked around the restaurant and his jaw set in a tight line. "Is everyone who is anyone here tonight?" He had never been one for small-town gossip.

We ordered food. I chose the snapper, while Diego and Anson went for the house special steaks. Anson also ordered a bottle of a Napa Valley Cabernet Sauvignon after I told him I wasn't drinking, and he didn't have to consider my snapper when he chose the wine.

With Anson's arrival, the tension in the restaurant became even more evident, and every so often, I caught snippets of whispered conversations from nearby tables. I tried to focus on Diego's light-hearted anecdotes, but it was impossible to ignore the weight of judgment around us.

It also didn't help that Anson sat next to me, brushing up against me, touching me. I felt like I was drowning in him, and it cost me to stay aloof. He, on the other hand, seemed just fine, unaffected.

Asshole!

Midway through the meal, I excused myself to go to the bathroom. As I walked toward the restroom, I could feel the stares follow me, and my heart pounded louder with each step.

Thankfully, the bathroom was empty, and I took a moment to steady myself in front of the mirror, taking deep breaths. I did what I had to do, washed my hands, and, instead of going into the restaurant, I stepped out, using the side exit. I needed some air. I leaned against the wall in the dark, collecting my thoughts.

The door swung open, making me all but stand against the wall to hide. Two women walked out. I watched as they lit cigarettes.

"Did you see Nova King?" one of them said, her voice dripping with curiosity. She was wearing a flowery red dress that looked like a sack on her, I thought pettily.

"Yeah. And with Anson Larue, no less," the other woman, wearing a black bodycon dress tittered. "I heard he dumped Bailey. Broke off their engagement…but you know she's gonna tell everyone she broke it off."

"Do you think he's back with Nova?" Flowery Sack Dress wondered.

"She's the kind who spreads her legs for anyone," Bodycon Dress said with disgust. "Her mother was a ho."

"The rumor is that Anson ran her out of town not only ‘cause she stole his grandma's diamonds," Flowery Sack Dress dropped her voice for affect, "but 'cause she was sleeping with Pete."

Bodycon Dress gasped. "I heard that when she was in jail, Raymond Carre was there, too."

"No," Flowery Sack Dress huffed.

"Yes, and…according to Maria, they might have…you know…done the deed."

"In jail?"

Bile rose inside me. They were making sexual assault consensual just because of who my mama was.

I wrapped my arms around myself tightly. The rumors were swirling, and now they thought Anson and I were an item again. It was all too much. The accusations, the gossip, the stares—it felt like the walls were closing in on me.

Once the women left, I made it back to our table in a daze.

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