Arranged(28)

I was embarrassed, and I tried to quickly recover with a serious (and I thought neutral) question, “So what do you all do? Like for work?”

More laughter, this time louder.

I wasn’t in on the joke. I knew they were rich, duh, I got that message loud and clear, but didn’t every adult need something productive to do? Going by the fact that they’d all gone to school with my husband, they were all around twenty-six years old and none had kids yet.

What did a twenty-six year old do without a job or children?

It was particularly strange to me since I’d been working and supporting myself full-time from the ripe old age of fourteen.

Oh yeah. That’s when my fuzzy mind remembered. They’re a different breed than me. Not working class.

“We’re full-time socialites,” Millie explained with a kind smile. “I’m sure you’re getting into the swing of something similar, when you’re not busy modeling. We represent our families socially.”

“It might sound superficial to an outsider,” one of the brunettes (I thought it was Camilla) added, “but we all have Ivy League educations. And we all do a lot more for society than a typical working woman.”

My eyes tried to climb straight up to my hairline for that one. “Do you now?” I tried really, really hard to keep my tone even and neutral.

Millie sent her friend a look. “What Camilla means is that we try our best to contribute. We’re all involved in charity work, and Hadley,” she pointed to one of the light brown-haired ones, “even got a law degree just to help represent her husband’s cancer research foundation.”

My hackles were still up from Camilla’s comment, but I managed to let it go. I wasn’t here to judge anyone (why would I be?) and charity work was certainly something I admired.

To each their own, I chanted in my head. Being born rich and privileged was not a crime.

I tried my hardest not to have a chip on my shoulder about that kind of thing, but sometimes it was harder to hide than others.

If I was honest with myself these types of women were one of the reasons I’d agreed to such an arrangement. I hated the idea that there was an upper class and that they were better than.

I didn’t want anyone to have something over me like that. If there had to be a social ladder, I wanted to climb to the top and stay there. To dig in roots and make it mine for generations.

I wanted to change my family tree.

I shook off the thought. Now was not the time.

Someone had the waitress make us another round of shots, and I took mine gratefully.

The group just sat there for a while.

I wondered if there was going to be any dancing, or if they actually were lame enough to come to a club and do nothing but sit and talk.

It was looking that way.

They shared a lot of gossip about people I didn’t know. No one so much as glanced my way for a solid hour.

I kept drinking and tried to school my features into an expression that resembled politely interested, but it was hard to keep my mind from wandering.

Why was this so much harder to sit through than my nightly galas? I should have been used to talking to strangers about things I didn’t care about by now.

This felt more pointless, I decided. This small group of elitist women were never going to like or accept me. Why had my husband wanted me to try to be included?

Eventually the alcohol did its job and I just didn’t care. I kept making silly faces at Chester because it made him smile.

“Do you guys dance at all?” I finally just asked them. Why go to a club and not just a restaurant or bar if they were only going to sit there?

I’d interrupted a tirade one of them had been spouting about some woman who’d had the nerve to wear a dress they thought was out of fashion to one of their parties. Blah blah blah.

Millie nodded, her face shaped into its usual pleasant smile. “We’re just getting warmed up.”

“I need to powder my nose,” Addison said, standing suddenly. “Come with me, Noura?”

It wasn’t my favorite idea, but I went along with her just for the sake of being agreeable. Also I needed to pee. I did not have a good liquor bladder.

Addison hooked her arm through mine like we were best friends. I let her, but I glanced back at Chester, who was following us.

Addison finally seemed to notice him. “Will he go into the bathroom with you?” She laughed hard at her own question.

I smiled weakly. “No. He’ll wait outside. He’s just doing his job.”

She sent him a second look. “He’s kind of hot. Have you fucked him?”

I nearly stopped in my tracks. She’d managed to genuinely offend me. And embarrass me. I couldn’t even look at Chester. “Of course not. You know I’m married, right?”

Sometimes I didn’t feel married, but I sure as hell was acting like it.

She rolled her eyes at me. “Like that ever stopped anyone.” She sent Chester an unctuous smile. “I have a question for you, Ginger,” she told him. “Does the carpet match the drapes, and what does a girl have to do to find out firsthand?”

I wondered just how drunk she was.

“Not going there today, Miss Du Mont,” he answered, sounding amused. At least Chester had a good sense of humor.

“Pity,” she purred back.