CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE | DUKE
I checked my reflection in the full-length mirror that was affixed to the wall of our hotel room. Back in the day, the Maison Verte Gala would have warranted a trip to Bergdorf’s for a new outfit. In lieu of such luxuries, I’d have to make do with last year’s off-white Balmain chinos and a khaki linen blazer layered over a gauzy white t-shirt.
As I inspected my outfit in the mirror, I tried to determine which crime was worse: sporting last season’s Balmain, or wearing a t-shirt that I had bought on the clearance rack a JCrew.
Both, I decided. My mother will probably take one look at me and disown me on the spot...
I straightened my jacket and ran a hand through my brown hair. The purple bruise surrounding my eye had faded, but it was still visible.
I had planned on dabbing on some concealer to hide it, but Beck was staunchly against that idea.
“Let your parents see what kind of man you,” she had told me.
“The kind who gets into fights at dive bars?”
“No. The kind who sticks up for people.”
In Beck’s eyes, my black eye was a badge of honor. I knew my parents probably wouldn’t see it that way, but knowing that Beck felt proud of me was reason enough to leave the bruise uncovered.
I glanced at the watch on my wrist.
Shit.
“Hey Beck?” I tapped my knuckles gently on the bathroom door. “The car is going to be here any minute--”
The bathroom door swung open, and I found myself standing face to face with some radiant blonde creature.
“Beck?” I stammered in disbelief, because I barely recognized the woman hovering in the bathroom doorway.
“Fuck off,” she rolled her eyes. “I don’t look that different.”
“I’ve never seen you in a dress before,” I nodded at the gauzy white linen sundress that she was wearing.
“Well don’t get used to it,” she twisted her lips up into a smile and, despite the makeup, she looked like Beck again.
“You’re stunning,” I told her. “You’re the most beautiful girl at the ball.”
“We haven’t even gotten there yet…”
“We don’t need to,” I shrugged. “There’s no way anybody could compare to you.”
I could see her cheeks flush pink through her makeup, and then she beamed up at me and said:
“You clean up pretty well yourself, Williams.”
***
This year’s Maison Verte Gala was hosted at the beachfront mansion of some filthy rich reality TV housewife. The party was set up on a football field-sized patch of spikey green AstroTurf, which had been rolled out like a carpet to cover the slightly less-photogenic natural grass that grew in her backyard.
White tents had been set up to offer shade from the summer sun, and waiters were bustling around with silver trays of champagne and hors d'oeuvres.
There was a pool in the center of the grass patch, but the glistening turquoise water was strictly off limits to everyone besides the models that had been paid to lounge by the poolside and dangle their legs in the water.
Behind the pool, there was a band set up playing off-brand renditions of shitty Top 40s hits.
As Beck and I made our way around the grounds, I couldn’t help but imagine seeing the scene through her eyes. Everything looked fake and plastic: the fake grass, the fake people, the fake conversations...
I thought that bringing Beck here meant showing her a part of my world. Now I wondered how I had ever been a part of this world at all.
We had just ducked into one of the tents to grab a drink, when I felt a pair of hands drum against my back.
“Duke Williams!” I spun around and saw Hayden Henry in a seersucker suit accented with a pink bowtie.
“I thought I recognized that ass of yours!” Hayden laughed, slapping my shoulder. “Holy shit, what happened to your eye?!”
He didn’t wait for an answer. He kept on rambling: “I haven’t seen you in forever! How long has it been now?”
“Nearly a year,” I told him. I could have reminded him that he had been the one who had promptly lost interest in our friendship once my parents disinherited me, but I bit my tongue.
“Who the hell is this?” he asked, pointing at Beck.
“That’s--”
“Olivia Beck,” she smiled graciously, offering Hayden her hand to shake.
“Olivia, this is Hayden Henry,” I explained. “He’s a… old friend of mine.” That was one way of putting it…
“So Olivia,” Hayden asked, draping his arm around her shoulder. I saw Beck stiffen immediately. “Are you here are on your own?”
“Umm--” she frowned, confused.
I quickly wrapped my arm around her waist and pulled her to my side, forcing Hayden’s arm to fall away.
“She’s with me,” I told him curtly.
“You brought a date?” Hayden scoffed in disbelief. “That’s a first. I remember the last time you and I came to one of these things, you ended up getting some model to--”
“Hayden!” I snapped, cutting off the story abruptly.
“What?” Hayden looked confused for a second, then he nodded his head in understanding and shot me a sly smile: “You’re right, you’re right. Bro code.”
I rolled my eyes and glanced down at Beck, who looked less than amused.
“You two catch up,” she said, “I’m going to go grab a drink from the bar.”
“Oh, Olivia, while you’re there, can you get me a--” Hayden tried to call after her, but she was already stomping across the astroturf lawn.
“Yikes,” he turned back to me. “So you’re really a one woman man now?”
“Yeah,” I nodded, watching Beck as she made her way to the bar. “Yeah, I am.”
“She must have a 24 karat gold pussy,” Hayden whistled.
My eyes flicked to him and I glared.
“Dude, chill,” he held up his hands. “I just mean that there must be something special about her, if she convinced Duke Williams to get wifed up.”
She sure was fucking special. Memories from last night swam through my head. Beck was like a jungle, and there was still so much of her to explore.
I felt my dick twitch in my chinos. I couldn’t wait to get her back to the hotel room so I could push her dress up over her hips--
“But I guess the real question is: what the hell does she see in you?”
I snapped back into the conversation and glanced at Hayden.
“No offence,” he added quickly, “But you’re as broke as a joke.”
“Yeah, well Beck doesn’t give a shit about money,” I shrugged. I added silently: unlike everyone else at this party…
“What’s in it for her?” Hayden raised an eyebrow, then he added jokingly: “Your bank account was one of your only redeeming qualities!”
It was my turn to raise an eyebrow, and I glared directly into Hayden’s eyes.
“Money isn’t everything,” I shrugged. “Just look at you: you’ve got a seven-figure trust fund and you’re still an insufferable little prick.”
Hayden’s jaw slumped open and he rubbed his palm over his cheek as if I’d just slapped him. Glaring into his face, part of me still expected to see the childhood friend that I had practically grew up with. But instead, all I saw was a stranger.
“You were never a friend to me,” I realized out loud, shaking my head with disgust. “Have a nice life, Hayden.”
I started to walk away, then I spun back around:
“Oh, and by the way,” I added, “If you so much as think about my girlfriend’s pussy again, I won’t be the only guy leaving this party with a black eye.”