Hanging On (Jessica Brodie Diaries #2)(96)

And here I’d thought he’d been on my side! Double-standard!

I got a glare from Lump. She was too good by far at reading my insecurities.

The night progressed in polite words and subtle eye rolls. I was trying my damnedest to like Adam’s girl, but we had absolutely nothing in common. I mean, the girl liked needle point! What the hell was the point in making pictures on a piece of fabric? For pillows? Who did that outside of Jane Austen?

Lump hated her, too, but was the model of politeness. She chatted amicably and came up with conversation when everyone else was stumped. And because of it, Adam brought Elise to Lump every chance he could.

Adam was never much of a conversationalist, preferring to joke or just sit in silence—he called it sitting at rest. But his woman thought that rude, and since he was doing everything in his power to please her, including following her around like a servant, getting her drinks, napkins, or whatever the hell else she wanted, he constantly steered the little woman to Lump. He wasn’t even shy about it—he was relieved someone could figure out what to talk to her about.

Besides that, he only said “ain’t” once. It was that once that made him the laughing stock of the group.

Brad, Lump and I were sitting at our designated table. William was chatting with Lump’s man, who didn’t need his hand held 24/7 and was actually kind of cool for once—he’d been around about two and a half weeks—over at the bar, and Adam had just come over with Elise. Elise chose a chair next to me, stood behind it, and waited until Adam came over to pull it out for her. The deal seemed to be that she would have a gentleman or Adam would lose his balls. Adam was complying as best he could.

Since Elise was at the end of the table, Adam went to the other side and sat next to Lump. They’d been in each other’s presence all night, since Lump was apparently Elise’s babysitter, but they’d never sat next to each other, by design. Keeping his woman happy changed even that.

“Those boys are discussing bulls,” Elise said by way of greeting in her elevated southern accent. “I tried to hang in for as long as was polite, but it is a dangerous past-time. I just couldn’t continue to listen to Willie speaking about it. I just don’t know how his parents let him keep on with it.”

“Oh now, it ain’t that bad,” Adam responded, picking at his beer label uncomfortably.

It was like the air turned solid; thick with expectation. I knew that Adam would have rather stayed with William and talked bulls. I also knew that Adam had done something wrong. The former because Adam kept glancing over in longing. The latter because Elise was looking at Adam fixedly.

It took a second before Adam caught on. When he did, he looked at her like a whipped dog. “Beggin’ your pardon for the slang,” He apologized.

Following her around like a puppy was one thing. Moving chairs and getting things might be necessary to get some pu-nawny, so I didn’t begrudge him that. But this had just gotten out of hand. It seemed like Adam was trying to convince us all he was just as polite and delicate as the girl he brought around, and castrating himself in the process.

I couldn’t explain my anger—I didn’t even know where it welled up from. It might have been that Adam always, without question, stood up for me. Maybe it was that he protected me, and looked after me, like I was his blood instead of his friend’s girlfriend. Or maybe I just didn’t like what this woman represented because it was everything I was not.

Whatever the reason, my hackles rose and I was ready to throw down. I opened my mouth to cause some serious, and grave, offense, but Lump beat me to it.

“No harm done, Adam,” Lump said in a pleasant voice. You had to listen closely to realize the tone was like a pink knife on a whetstone.

Brad’s eyes snapped to Lump, wide. My small hairs stood on end.

Lump was not f**king around. Elise had just crossed the line.

Eyes looking at her beer in faux indifference, she continued speaking to Adam. “We’ve been listening to the pride of the south in your accent since we’ve made an acquaintance. I’d hate to lose it now. I might forget where I am.” Lump raised her eyes up to Elise.

It was clear Elise was about to, politely, rebuff Lump. Then she got the look.

I don’t care who you are, if you got that look from Lump, you not only deserved it, but you either put up or shut up. You backed down or you fought it out.

I’d tried to fight it out once. In Mexico, actually. I ended up in the pool with everyone laughing at me. Lump did not care that I was too drunk to get out on my own and had to be rescued by the hotel staff, I'd done something stupid--to this day I have no idea what--and she set matters straight.

There was no way Elise was going to fight it out. Instead, she ruffled her napkin and said, “Well, yes, I can see what you mean. I’m so sorry, Adam. If you will excuse me, I need to powder my nose.”

Adam stared after her a minute, then said, “No need to go scarin’ her, Betz. She didn’t mean nothin’ by it.”

“Well,” Brad said, staring at Lump and saying in a voice like John Wayne, “I ain’t afraid of you none, Lump-O.”

I laughed as Adam said, “Who you tryin’ to fool. You was shittin’ yer pants.”

“Yeah, Bradley,” I mocked.

“I’m going to go talk to the boys, where I get a little respect.” Brad sniffed dramatically.