Page 2 of The Bourbon Bride

I smooth the poofy white satin skirt of the dress. “Mama may have a lot to say about my life, but she gave me the choice of three of her own picks, and this happened to not be one of them.”

I stifle a giggle thinking of the fight we had at the dress shop when I insisted on the vintage gown rather than a brand-new cupcake gown she had in mind. The dress and the location were the only parts I insisted on, using the small amount of leverage I had with Mama to get them. Everything else, she picked out, despite dragging me through every planning meeting and pretending I had a say in anything.

“That tux really suits you,” I say, hugging Alex. “The haircut is truly the cherry on top. Thank you for coming all the way from New York. I know you’ve been busy.” I brush a lock of curly hair off Alex’s forehead.

“Do you remember when we would play dress up in the attic at The Mansion, and I always went for the old suits and you picked the pretty dresses? It’s like we’ve come full circle with that, but we actually fit in the clothes this time. Funny how no one figured me out sooner, right? I gave so many obvious signs that I was a dude, despite being in a lady’s body.”

Alex is my childhood best friend, the one ally I’ve always had, whether it was making mud pies and having tea parties in the garden of The Mansion or making it through the scathing social scene of our private school intact. Alex was the girl who I knew got me, who defended me, and who stood by me when my good name was dragged through the mud. But Alex has been transitioning over the last two years. He’s dropped the feminine in search of the masculine he craves, beating back the righteously cruel and judgmental South to finally feel like his true self. While Alex has been supported in New York, the transgender lifestyle is still new to the upper crust of Savannah, as seen in the disapproving stares I catch from a group of people near us, who immediately begin whispering to each other. I turn Alex slightly so he can’t see the looks he usually does his best to ignore.

“Did you see Liliana Bailey? I think she pilfered her grandma’s entire jewelry box tonight with how much bling she’s draped in.” Alex nods in the direction of the aforementioned woman glittering with jewels.

You can take the woman out of the man, but you can’t remove the urge to gossip from the Southerner.

“Hush. You know she likes to play dress-up. She’s just never learned the art of subtlety.” I look back at… well, she’s not exactly my friend. She’s more of a frenemy.

Besides Alex, I have a loose group of acquaintances I’ve grown up with due to our families all being in the same social circles. They flow from friends to enemies at any given moment depending on what gossip they want to share or believe. Liliana has always been on the other side of friendship, and she’s one I watch out for due to her proclivities for viciousness.

Liliana is hanging on Garrison Daniels’s arm like she wants to keep the bachelor locked in her clutches. I shake my head, glad I’m not having to fend off either of them tonight. Both have been incredibly cruel to me in the past. While Liliana likes to play nice to my face while stabbing me in the back, I only allowed Garrison to show me his true colors once, and he still gives me the creeps. I prefer to stay as far from him as I can, which has been easy with him away at school for the last seven years. Seeing him back here in Savannah makes me nervous.

I spent much of my high school years holding my head high when I was the center of vicious gossip and labeled first a prude, then a slut. Double standards were rampant in our social circle and apparently, I shouldn’t have turned down popular senior Jason DeWitt, a notorious player, but then gone out with his friend, Garrison mere weeks later. I wouldn’t sleep with Garrison, though he employed tactless and much unsexy prodding in his attempt to get me to change my mind. Despite my continued negative answers, he got impatient and gave me a bunch of drinks at a party and tried to have his way with me when I was stumbling drunk. It’s not an unusual story, unfortunately, and it could have gone from bad to worse.

Thankfully, Alex thought to come looking for me when I was gone a little too long on a bathroom run. He opened the door just as Garrison was pushing down his pants and I was passed out on the bed. Later, I found out that Alex kicked Garrison’s butt, literally, and knocked him over so he could help me out of that room. Thank goodness for a friend who actually cared about me, because I could have been another awful sexual assault statistic had he not.

Too bad myfriendLiliana started a rumor that I was a sloppy drunk and she had heard me ask Garrison to go upstairs that night todeflowerme. She spread the vicious rumor that I had brought it on myself all because she was mad he’d asked me out instead of her, I imagine. Garrison didn’t think he had done anything wrong and never once shut down the gossip mill or explained he never had the opportunity to do the deflowering, which just kept the rumors circling that I’d lost my virginity while drunk at a party.

I was too embarrassed to tell anyone but my mama and Alex what had really happened. Alex wanted me to report Garrison to our private school, Savannah Prep, and then the police. Mama said nothing had technically happened, “thank the Lord almighty,” and I should just be glad to move on. She shushed me when I got more and more upset over the next few weeks as the rumors got worse, and finally demanded I never speak of it again.

So I didn’t. Instead, I dealt with the stigma of being a sloppy drunk slut for the rest of high school. It didn’t matter that I never went to another party or even considered dating, I remained the butt of their jokes and stories that began withremember when Paige lost her virginity at a party freshman year. If they only knew how far from the truth that was. I look again at Liliana and Garrison, who is pulling his arm away from her without much grace.

“They deserve each other,” I say under my breath, but Alex hears me.

“You’re a better person than I am, and a helluva lot more forgiving, too.”

“I wouldn’t say forgiving, exactly, but I am glad not to be in their crosshairs at the moment.”

Alex takes a drink of champagne and swishes it around as if to wash his mouth out.

“I don’t have the patience for the people who pretend to be friends only to gain access to privileged information, then sell you out faster than your mama’s strawberry rhubarb pie at the Junior League charity bake sale.” This is spoken from too-recent experience.

When Alex was still using she/her pronouns and only starting to transition to he/him, there were a few very unkind people, including Liliana, who decided to leak the story to the press in a mean-spirited attempt that hurt Alex’s father. Judge Whitaker is on the supreme court for the state of Georgia, and the conservative majority of the state reacted strongly to the news that he had a transgender son that came out just as his six-year term was up for re-election. Thankfully, the small but mighty liberal voting population in his district helped him win his re-election despite the negative press. Alex had just been a tool Liliana and her like used to incite hate when the opportunity arose.

“That’s why I have you,” I say, squeezing Alex’s hand. “You say what you mean and you do what you say, so I trust you implicitly. Also, I know you won’t let anyone get one over on me if it seems the least bit suspicious.”

I can’t stop myself from looking over at Garrison Daniels as he moves toward my mama and daddy. Why is he being so friendly with them? His parents are friends with mine, but Garrison has been away at school, and I haven’t had to deal with him for long enough that I question his chumminess with them now.

“Damn straight. I have less riding on my behavior than you do, so you know I’ll whoop some ass if they go after you. Why not when I have a judge for a daddy, right?” Alex winks handsomely, his face so similar to the girl I grew up with, but even more perfect for who he is now.

“Shall we dance and give those old straitlaced biddies something to really talk about?” I offer my hand to Alex and meet his bright grin. It’s better than questioning Garrison’s motives and thinking about the past.

“I’ve been waiting all night for you to ask,” he says, taking my hand and leading me to the dance floor.

two

Hayes

Ihadmeanttostay in my office, avoiding the gaudy revelry happening below in the nightclub, but my damn curiosity got the better of me.

I’ve been strategizing on how best to make my entrance into Savannah high society, but this is not how I want to do it. The type of people in attendance easily find they hate me for what I can do to them, even while they admire me for being so efficiently cruel.

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