Page 8 of Never the Best

"Aunt Hattie didn’t." I downed half my drink in one go. "That was Mama."

"Well, she's such a class act, darlin'." Josie fluttered her eyelashes. My mother loved her.

I didn’t have much else to add, and truthfully, I didn’t care. Mama's gala had been just as pretentious as this dinner.

What the fuck was I doing with my life?

“People like Carol Ann don’t get Savannah,” Dixie May drawled. “They think you can just throw money at things and suddenly have culture. It’s insulting, really.”

"When the fuck can we stop talking about Carol Ann?" Sage whispered in my ear.

I chuckled softly, and Josie glared at me.

She'd tried to get Sage to sit across from me, but we'd managed to sit next to one another. In fact, Sage had agreed to come to dinner only because Ibegged; I couldn'tnotgo. Josie would make so much fucking noise about it that it would drive me up the freaking wall—well, I was here, and that was precisely how I felt, crazy and up a wall.

The server returned. “Have y’all had a chance to look at the menu?” he asked, his tone polite but efficient.

“We’ll need another minute.” Josie flashed him her brightest, most polished smile. I could tell by the way his smile tightened that he’d probably seen a dozen “Josies” tonight, all with the same perfect hair, perfect clothes, and perfect expectations. He was past this shit.

You and me both, bud!

I opened the menu but barely looked at it. I already knew what I wanted—pecan-crusted grouper, one of their specialties—but I kept the menu in my hands, more as a shield than anything else. The conversation continued without me.

“Speaking of people who don’t get Savannah,” Gary chimed in, “did you hear about the renovations they’re doing at the old Habersham house? It’s gonna be some kind of boutique hotel now. Can you imagine?”

Dixie May gasped theatrically. “A hotel? That house is practically sacred!”

"It's Gabe Rhodes buying up properties to please his wife," Josie claimed. "Savannah Lace is getting that architecture contract. I still don't understand why Aurora stillworks, you know? I mean, she's married into the Rhodes fortune."

"Maybe because she likes to work?" Sage suggested.

"Oh, please. I'm sure it's because they have an airtight prenup. You know Betsy Rhodes, she wouldn't have let her son marry someone like Aurora without one," Josie continued as she perused the menu.

"And what does that mean?" I asked. The hell with it. I wasn't going to let her make racist remarks around me. I knew Gabe and Aurora, and liked them very much. I also knew Betsy Rhodes, and she’d fuck Josie up for the comment she just made.

"Just that she doesn't come from our circles, darlin',” Josie dropped condescension like magnolia petals in a summer storm.

"And what the fuck does that mean?" I persisted.

"Rhett," Josie rage whispered, "language,please. I just meant that she isn't likeus."

"I hope to fucking God you weren't saying that 'cause she's not white," I challenged.

Josie looked aghast. "I'd never…stop being crass, Rhett. What's gotten into you?" she tittered self-consciously. Her fiancé wasn't behaving like a well-trained pet.

Yeah,thatwas disconcerting; notyoumaking racist remarks.

"You owe me a freaking case of Burgundy for dragging me here," Sage muttered into my ear.

"What's it that you both keep talkin' hush-hush about?" Josie flashed angry eyes.

"Can we order?" I replied with a non-sequitur. "I'm hungry, Josie."

Josie took a deep breath and gathered herself. Christ!

She straightened and smiled warmly at me. It was completely fake. “Rhett, what do you think of what's happenin' with the Haversham house?”

She was as subtle as a honking goose in church with her effort to show me that she was changing the topic.

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