Page 107 of Best In Class
“Dominic Calder,” Luna introduces blandly.
Jenn nods tentatively and then tilts her head to whisper ratherloudlyto Luna, “Does your father know? He’s…black, Luna.”
I hide a smirk.
Jenn,bless her heart, is predictable as fuck.
Lev comes up to us and we shake hands. He’s in a crisp tuxedo. He looks good. He also looks stressed.
“Lev, baby.” Jenn lifts her cheek to Lev, and he kisses it. “You’re so handsome.”
“Thanks, Mama.” There’s pity for his mother in his eyes. He takes his mother’s now-empty champagne glass from her fingers and drops it on the tray of a passing server.
“Get me another drink, darlin’,” Jenn murmurs, her eyes casting around, either looking for her husband or the bar.
Lev’s jaw tightens. He holds his hand out to his mother. “How about a dance, Mama?”
Jenn smiles and giggles. “Oh, that’ll be fun. A mother-son dance. Luna, maybe you can dance with your father. Won’t that be fun!”
“Like a root canal,” Luna mutters under her breath.
We watch as Lev dances with Jenn. They look like the perfect Savannah society mother and son. She’s done up to the gills, and he’s young and good-looking.
I slide a hand around Luna’s waist.
She leans into me, resting her head on my shoulder. “No one would think she’s an addict.”
I kiss her hair. “No, but I think more people know than you think. They just don’t talk about it.”
Luna exhales sharply, her eyes flickering with irritation. “She’sliving off booze and pills, and her problem withyouis your skin color.”
I tighten my hold on her and say nothing.
Being here, in this milieu, is sapping Luna of her life force. I can feel her exhaustion flowing to me in waves. Her parents drain her because, even though she’s stepped away, she’s impacted by them. In fact, she’s removed them from her life for this very reason.
“Nina is here.” I notice her boss talking to someone. “Fuck, the asshole ex of hers is on his way to her.”
Loyal Luna straightens and catches Nina’s ex Samuel Brennan,theasshole, purposefully walking toward his ex-wife.
She pats my shoulder. “I’m going to take care of this.”
“I—”
“She’s going to hate it ifyoutake care of this.”
I watch Luna go battle her friend’s demons with her.
Of all the entitled Savannah jackasses I’ve met—and I’ve met my share—Nina’s ex still manages to rank high on the list. The man is slick—polished confidence wrapped in generational wealth. He wears his perfectly tailored linen suit with the same arrogance he brings to approaching his ex-wife, like it’s just another performance at a society event.
I see Luna slide into position beside Nina like a shield forged of steel and sisterhood.
God, I love her.
You don’t need to know Nina long to understand she’s not a woman who accepts pity. She’s cool, composed, always pulled together in a way that makes you think nothing could crack her.
But even steel fatigues.
I know the stories—some I’ve heard from the grapevine and some from trusted sources. Nina was once Mrs. Samuel Brennan—the poised, brilliant wife of one of the South’s most powerful architects. She worked for his firm, designed buildings under his banner, smiled at fundraisers, raised their daughter, Bianca, and played the part of the good Southern wife.
