Page 7 of Never the Best

Josie didn't like my friendship with Sage and was jealous of it, and God knew why. Sage and I werenotsexually involved, hadn't been since high school, since…Pearl. Somehow, that one incident had changed a lot of lives, mine and Sage's included, and I hated to think it, but I knew Pearl's as well. One stupid, heartless mistake had damaged Pearl—but it had helped Sage and me grow up and strive to become better people. It took a few years for us to get our heads straightened—and, even though we still hung out with our old friends, we'd expanded our circles.

I spent time with Royal Legere and his close friend Noah Carter, men who had more on their minds than conforming to Savannah society. They were older than me and, in so many ways, wiser. My father, an archaic patriarch, obviously didn't approve of either man. Royal had broken off from the Legere family, and Noah, well, he had been investigated for bribing a senator,andthere had been that sex tape with his wife that pretty much everyone had seen. Somehow, he and his wife Stella didn't seem to care what people said or thought, and I aspired to be just like them when I grew up—ifI did.

"Since I don’t have any children, I know you're not talking about my marriage," Sage clipped, "or my divorce."

“Well, we were talking about cheating spouses,” Josie said, almost waspishly.

That,unfortunately, had been Sage’s spouse, though their divorce came about for more reasons than her husband’s inability to keep it in his pants.

“Josie,” I interjected, a hint of warning in my tone, one she picked up on but, alas, Dixie May didn’t.

"Sleeping with help, it's such a cliché," Dixie May declared heatedly.

The cliché, I thought, was all of us gathered at The Olde Pink House for dinner, talking aboutotherpeople and their sordid lives.

This was Josie's favorite restaurant, and not because it was elegant, not because it was a stately 18th-century mansion that dripped with Southern charm. Fuck, no. Josie liked coming here because it was theplaceto be seen.

"Is that Governor Abernathy?" Josie asked, lowering her voice.

I looked around the dimly lit dining room, which had flickering candlelight and low-hanging chandeliers. The walls were a soft blush pink, offset by mahogany paneling.

I found her quarry.

"Yes, I believe so," I acknowledged.

"We should go say hello to him. You know, he's coming to our engagement party."

"Maybe later," I prevaricated. I had no intention of approaching Abernathy. Sure, my father and Josie's knew him well, but I didn't,andI also didn't care to know theasshole, who was more corrupt than the previous guy who used to have his job, which I didn't think was possible.

Thankfully, before Josie could argue, Gary launched into a story about the Governor.

I ignored what he said and looked out through the restaurant's tall windows, into the gaslit glow of Abercorn Street, where my office was located.

You could hear the faint hum of Savannah’s post-work crowd filtering in and out of nearby bars. The street bustled with conversations, punctuated by bursts of laughter from nearby tables. I wondered iftheywere all talking about some woman and her sordid divorce. What pissed me off was how excited Josie was about this woman getting cheated on. My future wife was not about solidarity with women. Instead, she was all about crushing them and making them feel smaller.

I was relieved when the waiter came to take our drink order—because I desperately needed alcoholic fortification. Maybe Royal was right; I should end this engagement. I could barely stand talking to this woman, how would I stay married to her?

But my father wouldn't stand for it—hers wouldn't, either. It would be a scandal.

When you were born and raised a certain way, breaking free of that mold was damn near impossible. The hardest part, though? I’d never even thought about the life I wanted to live—I had no clue what that life looked like. I wasn’t living by design, I was living by default. You do A, then B,then C. You follow the same well-trodden path everyone else before you had walked—right up until the end. In the meantime, you made a lot of money, got married, had kids, and worked tirelessly to expand the family legacy and protect the almighty reputation. It was the formula, and God help you if you tried to deviate.

The waiter took our drink orders—an Old Fashioned for me, Josie’s usual Sauvignon Blanc, a martini for Sage, a Jack for Gary, and an obnoxiously complicated drink for Dixie May because she had to be a fucking nuisance.

"I don’t care what anyone says.” Dixie May delicately adjusted the napkin in her lap. “Carol Ann shouldn’t be hosting the Historical Society Gala this year. Everyone knows she’s just doing it to climb her way up. You can’t make up for a tacky pedigree, no matter how much money you marry into.”

Gary chuckled, a loud, booming sound that turned a few heads from nearby tables. “Well, Carol Ann’s husband didn’t seem too worried about pedigree when he bought her that monstrosity of a diamond ring. My God, it looks like he got it from a Vegas pawnshop.”

“Gary, please,” Dixie May scolded with a laugh, her pearls practically vibrating with the effort. “We don’t talk about such things so openly.”

Apparently, we did, and Sage concurred. “Only behind her back,” she muttered, just loud enough for me to hear. I glanced at her and smirked.

Sage wasn’t much for Savannah’s social politics anylonger. She had developed a sharp tongue that occasionally made these dinners tolerable for both of us. Tonight, though, even she looked like she’d rather be anywhere else. Just like me.

She'd married forfamilyvalidation, and where had that left her? She was divorced and embarrassed in society because her ex-husband was parading a new belle, a pregnant one, around town. So, the rumor went, that Sage couldn't give him children, which was why he'd simply had to find another woman to impregnate. But Sage was still part of this life, and since she worked at her father's firm, she was, as she said,trapped, just like I was.

Josie leaned forward, her elbow grazing my arm. “Oh, Rhett, didn’t your Aunt Hattie host the gala a few years ago? Now, that was a proper event. Everything was so tasteful.”

The server came then, and Sage and I grabbed our drinks like we were crawling in the desert, looking for hydration.

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