Page 3 of Never the Best

I’d argued with her; of course, I did. At seventeen, I’d been so sure of myself, so convinced that it was our responsibility—our duty—to carry on what our families had built.“You can’t just turn your back on it, Pearl. It’s our history. It’s who we are.”

She’d laughed, low and bitter. “Are you sure? Our history is that of exploitation and slavery, of Jim Crow and the Klan.”

"That wasyearsago; you can't hold us responsible for the sins of our ancestors."

"You sure about that, Rhett? Look at how we live, look at our lives and those of the less fortunate. Have we really moved past thepast?"

I thought I was protecting a legacy worth preserving, but maybe I’d only been hiding behind the weight of tradition. The conversation had stuck with me, even after all these years, though I didn’t want to admit why. Maybe it was because she’d been one of the few people brave enough to challenge me—or maybe because deep down, I’d known she was right. It was because of Pearl that I now contributed heavily to the ACLU, the Southern Poverty Law Center, Planned Parenthood, and several other non-profit organizations my family would be shocked to learn I even knew about.

As I ran past her little cottage, I wondered who she had grown into. What had the past fifteen years done for her and to her?

Shelooked different, that’s for sure. No one would dare call Pearl big now. She was slender and elegant. Her auburn hair was cut in a sophisticated style and made her look like the finance executive she was. She wore skirt suits to work—I’d noticed that when I saw her at Savannah Lace. She worked there, and I’d been to the office a few times to meet with the CEO, who had contracted Vanderbilt Finance for a project. She elevated her five-foot-five body with high heels. She had an air of insouciance about her. I hadn't seen her at any of the society events since she'd moved back three months ago—her brother, Cash, who I occasionally met at the country club, had told me how disappointed he, his wife, and his mother were that Pearl continued to shun society and embarrass them.

"How on earth is she doing that?" I demanded.

"She refuses to behave like a Beaumont," Cash lamented. "Caroline has tried to get her to meet some women to socialize with, but she refuses, and hangs out with that Nina Davenport suffragette gang."

Nina Davenport was the CEO of Savannah Lace, an all-woman design and architecture firm where Pearl was the director of finance.

"Suffrage was a long time ago, Cash, since women have been voting since the 19th Amendment was ratified in 1920. Nina is a brilliant CEO, and Savanah Lace is involved with some of the biggest projects we've seen in this city," I remarked, annoyed with Cash. I had tremendous respect for Nina. My Aunt Hattie and she were close friends, and I would not have anyone tarnish their names.

"Oh, please, don't tell me you, too, believe inthatnonsense."

"It's not nonsense, Cash, it's called progress."

I had learned from my aunt that Pearl was close to Cash's teenage daughters, which pissed off his wife, Caroline, as much as it did Cash. They worried that their daughters would become like their aunt.They should be so lucky.

When I saw a light flicker on in Pearl's cottage, I felt like a creepy lecher, so I picked up my pace, not wanting to be caught gawking at her home.

The cool morning air stung my lungs as I pushed harder, like I could outrun the memory of her or the feeling in my chest that told me I still hadn’t figured out how to be the kind of man who was worthy of her forgiveness.

CHAPTER 2

Pearl

"It was virgin pussy, wasn't it? Bet she was tight," Larry the Creep said.

"Shewasa bet, and yeah, she was tight, so it made up for…you know, how she looks," Rhett claimed. "Now, pony up, assholes. Hundred bucks from each of you."

I stood by the pool listening to Rhett crush my faith in humanity, my hands clutching a copy ofThe Grapes of Wrath, a book I was going to give him as a gift because we'd bonded over our love of Steinbeck.

After this point, the nightmare always changed, transforming from reality into dream-like surrealism. Sometimes, he'd see me and laugh. Other times, I'd struggle to move. There were times I'd run and run and run until I collapsed. Sometimes, I'd wake up and cry.

So, seeing the man who took my virginity sitting across from me in a meeting room was nothing short of a waking nightmare. What made this worse than any nightmare wasthat Rhett hadn’t just been my first love—he was the one who had taken my innocence, shattered my trust, and destroyed my belief in people.

I was humiliated—as anyone would be—to find out that my first time had been the result of a bet. Rhett had won three hundred dollars from his friends—and then the whole school and everyone who was anyone in our age group in Savannah found out he’d won the title of “Cool Playboy.” Ultimately, to Rhett, that was what a sixteen-year-old’s innocence was worth—three hundred measly dollars and a bump to his already soaring reputation.

Now, you may say, that happened fifteen years ago, Pearl, get over yourself. But how do you get over what derailed your life? Becauseafterhe announced to his friends that he’d had the chubby girl—and had probably rolled her over in flour to find the wet spot—my life in Savannah became miserable. I went from fat to foolish in seconds. It got so bad that, after high school, I ran from my city and home. Rhett went from jock and straight-A student to Harvard, to fame as a finance guru.

It was in that capacity that I had to meet with him in a professional setting. I left Savannah to study at Stanford. I mean, what else was a girl with no friends going to do in high school but study all the time? My GPA and SAT scores had been outstanding, and I got into several Ivy League schools. I chose Stanford because a lot of the Savannah set went to schools on the East Coast.

After I graduated, I worked in LA for several years. When my Aunt Hattie's friend Nina Davenport wanted tohire a Director of Finance for her architecture and design firm, Savannah Lace, I decided to return home because Savannah was still where I felt I belonged. Right now, I wasn't sure if I had made a big, fat mistake—almost asfatas I used to be.

I'd been back for two weeks, and it had been a shitshow.

It started with hearingeverythingabout Rhett Vanderbilt's upcoming engagement party to Josie Vance: high school mean girl, blonde Barbie—you get the picture?

Now, Aunt Hattie was confident that the marriage wouldn't last; Josie was on her second fiancé, but this was Rhett's first walk down the proverbial aisle. I'd seen the engagement photos. They looked so cute together—anidealcouple. When narcissism meets assholery, you know their children were going to befuckedup.

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