Sweet Southern Trouble by Michele Summers

Author:Michele Summers
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Sourcebooks
Published: 2017-02-20T16:00:00+00:00

Chapter 18

Nick was pissed. Mavis and George Stone gave Edna a run for her money with their snide remarks and useless gossip. And George III, who preferred to be called Trey, must’ve grown up with Tom, the pretentious snob, because he talked down his nose to everyone. Except Marabelle.

Trey maneuvered so he sat on Marabelle’s right side at the round table, engaging in a private conversation for her ears only. Marabelle nodded a lot, grimaced a lot, and drank a lot. Nick understood her pain.

For once he was thankful for his fans who interrupted the table to speak to him or ask for an autograph. Nick had never been happier to oblige. Anything to break up the tedious evening.

After the fifth interruption, Edna couldn’t help herself.

“Have people no shame? It’s so rude to interrupt someone’s dinner to ask for an autograph. If I were you, Nick, I wouldn’t be so gracious, and maybe they’d get the message.”

“Mother. Please. Nick is used to it and handles it with amazing grace and charm.” Despite Marabelle’s surprising defense, she sat as tense as a tuning fork.

“Society has so lowered its standards when it comes to celebrities. Why, look at that tramp Miley Cyrus…”

“What about Paris Hilton? That dumb hotel heiress.”

“Today it’s all about the Kartrashians…”

Marabelle gave his thigh a reassuring pat under the table before slugging down another glass of wine. Nick buttered a piece of hot French bread and handed it to her, hoping it would sop up the alcohol pickling her insides.

Edna’s butter radar must’ve gone off. “Oh, Marabelle, no butter. You’ll get fat, dear. Remember the wedding gown.” Marabelle dropped the bread on her plate like it was covered in maggots.

Nick picked it back up and handed it to her. “Eat,” he ordered, “you are not fat.” Slipping his arm around her shoulder, he announced to the entire table, “I happen to like a woman with a few curves on her, and I think Marabelle is perfect.”

All conversation stopped. Edna’s mouth gaped open, and Phoebe blinked like an owl.

Ed broke the strained silence. “I agree. Marabelle is perfect. And so is Phoebe. Both my girls are beautiful.”

“Peyton Carter left Margie the minute she gained weight, after thirty-six years of marriage, and now he lives with a twenty-one-year-old.”

“Peyton didn’t leave because Margie gained weight.”

“No, he left her because she insisted on separate bedrooms and wouldn’t let him play golf with his buddies.”

“He deserved it.”

“You would think that.”

Throughout the incessant sniping and gossiping, Marabelle barely touched her food. She was teetering on the verge of getting shit-faced, and Nick couldn’t quite blame her.

* * *

Marabelle entered the ladies lounge, locked herself in a stall, sat down with her head in her hands, and burst into tears. Poor Nick. How could he possibly stand another minute? He needed to leave before it was too late. Her family gave new meaning to the word “dysfunctional.”

But Nick and stubborn were synonymous.

Maybe after tonight’s horror show, she could convince him to go. Why did that make her feel worse? Her eyes teared up, and then she hiccupped.

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