Page 32 of Best In Class
And my hair? It’s washed and conditioned. Can anyone ask for more?
I watch as Dom and Camy go up the staircase of the old Savannah Cotton Exchange, a building with more ghosts than good intentions.
It’s all red brick, carved stone lions (I kid you not), andso much gold-painted shit that it feels like Midas ran amok in here.
The ballroom is dripping in crystal and candlelight.
Chandeliers sparkle overhead, throwing flattering shadows across fake smiles and old money arrogance.
Everything smells like florals and obligation.
There’s a string quartet playing near the staircase, something classical and vaguely self-important.
Mahler? Really?
The irony of hosting a philanthropic event in a place built on the back of exploitation isn’t lost on me.
But this is what we do in Savannah. We show up. We pretend. And we do it well. Oscars for everyone!
Camy rests her hand on Dom’s shoulder, and he slips his arm around her waist.
My stomach twists.
Nova whispers something beside me. I can’t hear her over the blood rushing in my ears.
“If looks could kill, Savannah would need a new architect.” Stella swipes another glass of champagne from a waiter passing by.
“I can’t believe he told me they aren’t dating,” I mutter.
Hot tears threaten to fall down my face, but I hold them back.
A girl has her pride.
No boyfriend. No Dom. But, yeah, plenty of pride.
Dom dips his head to hear something Camy says—she’s short, five-five to his six-three. I’m five-eleven.
Camy laughs and kisses Dom’s cheek.
Motherfucker! I’m going to cut the bitch.
“Now, now, darlin’, he asked you first,” Aurora warns.
“I don’t care.” I drink my champagne aggressively.
“What are you plannin’ to do?” Nova asks lazily.
“I don’t know.”
“You gonna keep it legal?” Stella wants to know.
“Maybe.” I finish the champagne and beckon a waiter.
“I don’t think you should mix drinking and homicidal intent,” Aurora notes, her eyes flashing concern.
“I thought that was alcohol and antibiotics.” I flash her a sarcastic grin.
“She’s fine.” Stella slaps my ass playfully. “Just having buyer’s remorse.”
