Page 78 of Plum

“I think she said what she’s gonna say, buddy.” Dan kind of urges me forward.

“Get your fucking hands off her.”

“Listen, buddy. This is not your—”

I think he was going to say “business,” but before he can, Adam pulls back and sails his fist into the guy’s mouth, lunging forward as he does so they both end up on the floor, several feet behind me. There’s scuffing, grappling, and Dan lands a blow, bloodying Adam’s nose.

The band plays on while everyone backs up, shocked gasps and startled screams rippling through the crowd away from the scene. Adam swings Dan into a table, and it tips. A vase crashes to the ground, and by some miracle it doesn’t break, but the flowers go everywhere, getting kicked and crushed as the fight ranges on.

Adam’s winning, but Dan has stamina. He’s got to be ex-military, a boxer, something. I can’t pull my eyes away. I’m rooting for the fight to come my way so I can kick Adam Wade in the balls.

Before security can show, Thomas Wade elbows through the crowd, Des Wade and Harper Ruth at his heels. Harper is trying to swallow a gleeful laugh, her lips sealed together, her eyes bugging out. It’s the first time I’ve seen her ugly.

Thomas Wade barks at Eric to help him break it up, and then he flashes me a look of pure poison. This man hates me.

Ain’t gonna lie. I don’t think I’ve ever felt so powerful in my life. It’s kind of heady shit.

I sketch a salute to Harper, and then I flip Mr. Thomas Wade the bird as I gather my skirts to my chest. These are rotating doors, and the end of this story is not me getting stuck in them and waiting for somebody to find a pair of scissors.

“Jo-Beth,” Adam pants, staggering to his feet, his crisp white shirt bloodied and hanging open. His tie’s gone. His blue eyes burn into me, raising goosebumps on every inch of exposed skin. A shiver shoots down my spine. “Jo-Beth. Say it, then. What did you come here to say?”

I love you. Don’t leave me. I’m sorry all the times you said I love you, and I was too much of a coward to say it back. I miss you. I can’t breathe without you. Come back.

That’s what I meant to say. Before I got it shoved in my face that Adam is like every other man who’s ever paid me. He holds all the cards, but I’m the one that’s got to show mine. ‘Cause having all the power ain’t enough. He needs my pride, too. Fuck that. Fuck him.

Dan Gershund finds his feet, and Adam’s attention is drawn away. His lips curl back in a grimace.

“What were you doing, Jo-Beth? Goddamn. Here? You had to do that shit here?”

There’s betrayal in his voice, and it sends a wave of rage cresting through me.

He’s gonna ghost me? Act like I don’t exist? Then act like I owehim? I take in the scandalized crowd, the knocked-over table, water pooling, flowers stomped to soggy mush. That’s what you get from me. Ignorethat, motherfucker.

I hoist my skirts again, flip my middle finger at his perfect, stupid face, and I keep it raised until I’m through the door and out in the cold, damp air.

As I stalk off down the drive, I recall Dan Gershund’s shiny black shoes cracking Adam’s glasses as they slammed each other into the marble floor. I knew those glasses would break easy.

This night did not turn out as planned. I don’t know what I wanted, not exactly, but maybe it doesn’t matter. Whatever fool shit was in the back of my head, I see now I was never gonna get swept into his arms at first sight and twirled around that ballroom. It was clear that I don’t belong with those people. I don’t belong withhim. He’s too good for me, but he’ll ignore the fact, the stand-up guy.

But I got a home. I only need to make a call, and I got a ride there. And unlike other people, I don’t break easy.

If my heart don’t agree, that’s all right. I can live without it. I have this long.

CHAPTER 11

ADAM

After Thomas smoothed things over with security, he took Mom and Marjorie home. I was still drunk, worse due to not having slept more than a few hours all week. The blows to the head probably didn’t help either. I wandered outside, found the stone stairs that led to the sculpture garden, and collapsed. It was cold and wet. My knuckles throbbed.

I hadn’t been in a fistfight since a parking lot brawl after a football game in college, and in the three months since I met Jo-Beth, I’ve been in two. Clear evidence I’m on the wrong path, right?

But God, she was so fucking beautiful tonight. Her skin was a little splotchy like it gets when exposed to cold air. It would be tacky to the touch. I remember that man’s hand circling the back of her neck, and my fists clench, sending shooting pains radiating from my busted knuckles. I force myself to shake out my hands.

I love her skin. It’s soft, warm. I love her skin because it’shers. Because maybe I do have some kind of kink. I know she doesn’t care who touches that skin, but I still want her to crave my hands on her. Is that masochism? Probably.

Fuck, I wish I had a drink. And then a voice calls out, “He’s over here.” And it’s like God answers my prayers.

Or the devil. Two stumbling figures lurch toward me, one wrapped in the other’s jacket. I can’t tell who it is until they’re sprawled on the steps with me. It’s Eric and…Des’ girlfriend? Harper Ruth.

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