Page 16 of Chubs

The door slides open at that moment, and I start to step out when a hand lands lightly on my elbow. Looking down, I see it’s a man’s hand and not that of my sister. I pull my arm away and glance up at the smiling man.

“Sorry. Didn’t mean to startle you, but I didn’t want you ladies to walk off without an answer,” he says while placing his hands in his suit pockets.

“No, thank you,” I respond in a flat tone.

“We have plans,” Lisa adds.

As we take a few steps away from the elevator, the men follow and then step in front of us. Hands up in a placating manner, smiling charmingly, the dark-haired one says, “Come on, ladies. One drink. That’s all we’re asking for.”

I feel my anger start to bubble up, but I bite back on it and again say, “No, thank you.”

I step to the side, me now being the one pulling Lisa along, and start to pass when they again block our way. I stop, sigh, and look up to make eye contact.

“Please move, and please take the word no as our final answer.”

“But, ladies—” he starts before I cut him off.

“Get out of our way before I put my heel through your scrotum,” I hiss.

A loud, unladylike snort escapes Lisa. Whether her laugh was at my words or the shocked look on their faces, I don’t know which. I brush past them, Lisa laughing, somewhat hysterically, beside me when I notice my parents only a few feet away. Mom’s eyebrows are at her hairline, but my dad’s are lowered as he glowers at the men.

“Let’s go, Daddy,” I order as I continue toward the exit.

Once seated in the limousine, I primly adjust my dress then look at my mother.

“Sorry you had to hear that,” I mutter.

“I’m not. That was perfect. Every mother wants to raise daughters that will stand up for themselves, and I have. My life is now complete,” she responds in a calm voice before turning to look out her window with a small, smug smile on her mouth.

I pretend not to hear her small laugh, and I continue pretending when it sets Lisa off again. Looking at my father, I’m humbled by the pride shining in his eyes.

“This party blows ass,” Lisa says while leaning against the balcony railing next to me.

“They all do. I don’t know how our parents have done these things for so many years.”

“They’re better people than we are, I guess,” Lisa states.

I sat quietly throughout dinner and let my family members carry the conversation. I answered the few questions I was asked and kept a small smile plastered on my face. I was the picture of decorum, and luckily, nothing catastrophic has occurred. I no longer consider a tray or a plate crashing to the floor as catastrophic, though. After dinner, when the mingling started, I took a glass of champagne off a tray and made my way to the balcony. I’ll never take more than a tiny sip or two from my glass, but it keeps the waitstaff from approaching. Lisa found me shortly after, and we’ve been people-watching ever since.

“Not to be mean, but that dress Senator Pullman’s wife is wearing might explode before the night is over,” Lisa muses.

“She somehow always fits 20 pounds of potatoes in a 5-pound sack and survives the night,” I reply.

“True. Maybe her dressmaker uses fishing line instead of thread.”

“If I wore that dress, my girls would have ended up on my plate during the second course,” I say.

“Same.”

My phone buzzes, and I pull it from my clutch to see I have a text from Bailey.

Bailey: Gunner’s picking you up from the airport tomorrow. Have him drop you at my house.

I place my phone back in my clutch without answering.

“Have you told anyone with the club that Chubs texted you?” Lisa asks in a subdued voice. “Have you asked any of them if he left town?”

“No, and I’m not going to. I’ll get questioned to death by everyone, but I’m not getting involved. It was his choice to leave, and if he wanted them to know anything, he’d have told them. He’s gone. I can feel it, and the text was his goodbye to me.”

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