Sugar Rush
Page 32
Helen’s eyebrows raise sky-high as she turns to Beck. “Isn’t that moving a little fast?”
“I don’t know,” Beck says smoothly. “You tell me, Mother. I’m assuming you know how long Sela and I have been dating.”
His mom just stares at him, completely unable to answer the question. His dad coughs slightly. It was a very pointed reminder from Beck to his parents that they know nothing about him really.
They clearly get the message, because his dad changes the subject quickly. “How’s business going?”
“Very well,” Beck says, and uses the opportunity to present the real reason we came tonight. “Actually, I need to talk to you about a business issue in private. Do you have some time right now?”
“Beckett,” Helen North chides her husband. “It’s a party. You’re the host. No business tonight.”
But I can tell that Beckett North is not only intrigued by his son wanting to discuss business with him, but he’d rather be anywhere but hosting a party tonight. So I’m not surprised when he leans over, pecks his wife on the cheek, and says, “We won’t take long, darling. I’m sure you can manage without me for a few minutes.”
She huffs out her displeasure as Mr. North steps past us both. Beck leans over, gives my lips a soft brush, and whispers so only I can hear, “Good luck. I won’t be too long.”
As I watch them walk out of the music room, I see JT across the room. This isn’t a surprise, as Beck told me he’d be here and wanted me to be prepared in case we ran into each other. While Beck has done a fantastic job of being buddy-buddy with JT at work this week, I’m not under the same requirement to play nice with him. In fact, Beck and I discussed how I should deal with JT, and we both felt that I should proceed with quiet distaste. Anything else may make him suspicious.
JT is dressed in an elegant navy suit and standing with a couple that look to be in their mid to late fifties. The woman has a sexually charged gaze fixed on Beck’s dad as he walks out of the room with his son.
Interesting. I’d bet my bank account, which, granted, isn’t much, that I’m looking at JT’s mother right now. JT and the man I’m guessing is his father…well the man who raised him…don’t seem to notice where her attention is focused, because they are talking quietly between themselves.
Figuring that I need to make small talk with Beck’s mom, I turn her way, only to find her staring at the woman I believe to be JT’s mom. Her lips are flattened and her eyes are cold as she watches the other woman staring hungrily at her husband.
Well, that answers that question. Clearly Beck’s mom knows about her husband and JT’s mom having an affair.
Very strange and complicated people.
“So, Mrs. North,” I say in an attempt to get her attention. “Your house is stunning. Beck was telling me a little bit about the architectural style.”
Helen’s gaze slides slowly to me and her eyes don’t warm at all. Rather than prattle on about her home, which Beck sort of assured me was a good conversation maker, she says, “If you’ll excuse me, I have some other guests to attend to. Enjoy your evening.”
And just like that, I’m dismissed.
I’m immediately relieved that I don’t have to engage further with Beck’s mom. My low opinion of her was set when I first saw how Helen and Beckett North failed to celebrate the birth of their son, but it sank to unparalleled depths when Beck told me how they treated Caroline after her rape.
A waiter approaches me with a tray of champagne-filled flutes and I gratefully take one, murmuring, “Thank you.” I decide to explore the house a bit while I sip on my drink, thus averting the need to talk with any of these people, because really…what could we possibly have in common?
I walk out of the music room, back into the main hall. I see people descending a gently curved staircase of a dark wood polished to a brilliant sheen. I follow them down and emerge into what looks to be a large game room complete with a poker table that seats ten and two pool tables that are currently in use. An old-fashioned phonograph sits on an intricately carved table with a cubed glass case over the top, telling me that it’s worth quite a bit of money. The walls of the cavernous room are done in rich wood paneling with dark parquet underneath and silk rugs scattered under the furniture. Large, deeply cushioned chairs of mocha-colored leather are clustered in groups with small tables in between. It’s a man’s room for sure, with not a single feminine touch to be seen.
I casually wind my way through the party guests and stand against a wall that is covered in prints of various golf courses, as well as other golf memorabilia. Sipping at my champagne, I focus my attention on two men playing a game of pool and settle in to wait for Beck to finish up with his dad. I have no doubt that as soon as he’s done he’ll come looking for me and will eventually find me down here.
“Enjoying the party?” I hear from my left and recognize the voice instantly. Because I don’t need to act the part, and because it comes very naturally to me, I turn with cold eyes toward JT as he stands next to me. He’s got a glass of a dark-colored liquor in one hand and his other hand tucked causally in his pocket.
He’s stares down at me with superiority and amusement, no doubt enjoying his memory of the conversation he had with Beck a few days ago whereby he encouraged Beck to put the brakes on with me. Knowing this man doesn’t think very much of me based on the circumstances of my birth, that he’s pushing his friend away from a chance at real happiness, and let’s not forget that he drugged and raped me, leads me to shut down this nasty conversation before it begins.
“Can’t say this is really my speed,” I tell him with a slight shrug of my shoulders. My eyes glance around the room before coming back to him. “You know…not for a girl from Belle Haven.”
“Exactly,” he says in what sounds like a polite voice but that’s really just to hide his rude declaration that I’m not good enough for this crowd.
This actually amuses me, that he feels the need to tear me down. It also gives me an important piece of information. He’s still very worried about my connection with Beck and feels threatened by it.
“But as long as you remember the true role of a Sugar Baby,” JT says casually as his gaze flicks from mine to the action on the pool table. He stares at it pensively before continuing, “you should be fine.”
“I don’t know,” Beck says smoothly. “You tell me, Mother. I’m assuming you know how long Sela and I have been dating.”
His mom just stares at him, completely unable to answer the question. His dad coughs slightly. It was a very pointed reminder from Beck to his parents that they know nothing about him really.
They clearly get the message, because his dad changes the subject quickly. “How’s business going?”
“Very well,” Beck says, and uses the opportunity to present the real reason we came tonight. “Actually, I need to talk to you about a business issue in private. Do you have some time right now?”
“Beckett,” Helen North chides her husband. “It’s a party. You’re the host. No business tonight.”
But I can tell that Beckett North is not only intrigued by his son wanting to discuss business with him, but he’d rather be anywhere but hosting a party tonight. So I’m not surprised when he leans over, pecks his wife on the cheek, and says, “We won’t take long, darling. I’m sure you can manage without me for a few minutes.”
She huffs out her displeasure as Mr. North steps past us both. Beck leans over, gives my lips a soft brush, and whispers so only I can hear, “Good luck. I won’t be too long.”
As I watch them walk out of the music room, I see JT across the room. This isn’t a surprise, as Beck told me he’d be here and wanted me to be prepared in case we ran into each other. While Beck has done a fantastic job of being buddy-buddy with JT at work this week, I’m not under the same requirement to play nice with him. In fact, Beck and I discussed how I should deal with JT, and we both felt that I should proceed with quiet distaste. Anything else may make him suspicious.
JT is dressed in an elegant navy suit and standing with a couple that look to be in their mid to late fifties. The woman has a sexually charged gaze fixed on Beck’s dad as he walks out of the room with his son.
Interesting. I’d bet my bank account, which, granted, isn’t much, that I’m looking at JT’s mother right now. JT and the man I’m guessing is his father…well the man who raised him…don’t seem to notice where her attention is focused, because they are talking quietly between themselves.
Figuring that I need to make small talk with Beck’s mom, I turn her way, only to find her staring at the woman I believe to be JT’s mom. Her lips are flattened and her eyes are cold as she watches the other woman staring hungrily at her husband.
Well, that answers that question. Clearly Beck’s mom knows about her husband and JT’s mom having an affair.
Very strange and complicated people.
“So, Mrs. North,” I say in an attempt to get her attention. “Your house is stunning. Beck was telling me a little bit about the architectural style.”
Helen’s gaze slides slowly to me and her eyes don’t warm at all. Rather than prattle on about her home, which Beck sort of assured me was a good conversation maker, she says, “If you’ll excuse me, I have some other guests to attend to. Enjoy your evening.”
And just like that, I’m dismissed.
I’m immediately relieved that I don’t have to engage further with Beck’s mom. My low opinion of her was set when I first saw how Helen and Beckett North failed to celebrate the birth of their son, but it sank to unparalleled depths when Beck told me how they treated Caroline after her rape.
A waiter approaches me with a tray of champagne-filled flutes and I gratefully take one, murmuring, “Thank you.” I decide to explore the house a bit while I sip on my drink, thus averting the need to talk with any of these people, because really…what could we possibly have in common?
I walk out of the music room, back into the main hall. I see people descending a gently curved staircase of a dark wood polished to a brilliant sheen. I follow them down and emerge into what looks to be a large game room complete with a poker table that seats ten and two pool tables that are currently in use. An old-fashioned phonograph sits on an intricately carved table with a cubed glass case over the top, telling me that it’s worth quite a bit of money. The walls of the cavernous room are done in rich wood paneling with dark parquet underneath and silk rugs scattered under the furniture. Large, deeply cushioned chairs of mocha-colored leather are clustered in groups with small tables in between. It’s a man’s room for sure, with not a single feminine touch to be seen.
I casually wind my way through the party guests and stand against a wall that is covered in prints of various golf courses, as well as other golf memorabilia. Sipping at my champagne, I focus my attention on two men playing a game of pool and settle in to wait for Beck to finish up with his dad. I have no doubt that as soon as he’s done he’ll come looking for me and will eventually find me down here.
“Enjoying the party?” I hear from my left and recognize the voice instantly. Because I don’t need to act the part, and because it comes very naturally to me, I turn with cold eyes toward JT as he stands next to me. He’s got a glass of a dark-colored liquor in one hand and his other hand tucked causally in his pocket.
He’s stares down at me with superiority and amusement, no doubt enjoying his memory of the conversation he had with Beck a few days ago whereby he encouraged Beck to put the brakes on with me. Knowing this man doesn’t think very much of me based on the circumstances of my birth, that he’s pushing his friend away from a chance at real happiness, and let’s not forget that he drugged and raped me, leads me to shut down this nasty conversation before it begins.
“Can’t say this is really my speed,” I tell him with a slight shrug of my shoulders. My eyes glance around the room before coming back to him. “You know…not for a girl from Belle Haven.”
“Exactly,” he says in what sounds like a polite voice but that’s really just to hide his rude declaration that I’m not good enough for this crowd.
This actually amuses me, that he feels the need to tear me down. It also gives me an important piece of information. He’s still very worried about my connection with Beck and feels threatened by it.
“But as long as you remember the true role of a Sugar Baby,” JT says casually as his gaze flicks from mine to the action on the pool table. He stares at it pensively before continuing, “you should be fine.”
