“You really want me to?” he asked, looking mighty good in his jeans and Van Halen T-shirt. Okay, it wasn’t Rob Zombie, but it would do. And this question was more than something light and playful. This was more than a silly bet over American Idol. He was asking me what I wanted. If I was going to stake a claim. If I wanted to pick up what he was laying down.
“No. I was hoping you might come help me ice Johnny’s birthday cake at Gran’s house. I mean, if you have someone to pour your beer for the next few hours, that is. We can pick up Southern Classic and daiquiris.”
Dak smiled. “I have a guy who pours a mean beer. And who passes up Southern Classic fried chicken, anyway?”
“Someone who doesn’t have good sense,” I said, gesturing toward the open doors.
“You never struck me as someone who didn’t have that.”
Dak smiled.
And I smiled back.
CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE
CRICKET
Eleven days later
“Ruby, let’s go!” I called from the front of the store, trying to keep my anxiety level manageable. Today was the day I would witness Scott’s comeuppance. God willing and the creek don’t rise.
Jade was standing behind the counter, eyeing me wearing the Carven jacket that Ruby had refashioned into something quite lovely. “Ruby made that?”
I nodded. “She’s about to launch a line of clothing.”
“Mm,” Jade said, twirling her finger for me to spin. I obliged. “That looks good. I’d wear it.”
And that was high praise from Jade. She wasn’t one to ooh and aah over anything. I looked down at the jacket and pants. Ruby had mimicked the original design minus some damaged ribbon and had added a large black panel at the waist, hiding the original damage to the fabric. She’d streamlined the sleeves and added the same black band at the cuff. The cigarette pants she’d paired with it were emerald raw satin and should have looked absurd. Truly. But they didn’t. I had swept my hair up into a twist and pulled on my grandmother’s somewhat offensively large emerald earrings. I’d found a clutch at an estate sale that looked perfect with it. The open-toed black Tory Burch wedges were the finishing touch. I looked ready to take on the world. Or at least my soon-to-be ex-husband.
Ruby appeared, wearing the top half of a Bellville Sassoon floral gown she’d fashioned into a blouse with a short blue skirt. The floral champagne-colored top had been stripped of beaded embellishment to make it less dressy. Ruby wore flats and several delicate chains around her neck. I could tell that she’d leveled down her look because she wasn’t certain what to expect at the annual “Person of the Year” luncheon. For many years it had been “Man of the Year,” but societal pressures had led them to change it a few years back, though they had yet to award it to a woman.
“You look very non-Ruby-like,” I said, giving her a smile.
“What?” She looked down at her outfit. “Is it too genteel?”
I laughed. “Genteel? Well, it is a bit, but I like it.”
“I have palazzo pants for this top when we debut it at Spring Fling. So it’s a bit more, you know, me, but I thought that might draw too much attention and be a bit too dressy for a luncheon. The mayor is going to be there.”
Yeah, he was. The University Club’s annual event was a celebrated luncheon, and my husband had literally danced when he heard that he was being awarded Person of the Year status for his work helping the Renesting Project. In fact, he’d written his acceptance speech the day after he got the call. He’d literally strolled around the house, punching the air with absolute glee when he’d learned he’d been selected as the recipient.
His accolade was a big coup for the bank and all that. Of course, Richard Morrison, the CEO of Caddo Bank and Loan, had no clue that his golden boy had been making fraudulent, shaky loans to be invested in a Ponzi scheme, or that my “Person of the Year” husband was about to skip town with his girlfriend to dodge the blowback. Let’s just say that Scott had been “renesting” himself.
So it was awfully small of me to encourage the SEC investigators and the Department of Justice guys to arrest Scott at the luncheon. But when Jim Arnold, the friend of a friend of Juke’s, had asked me if I knew Scott’s whereabouts because they were preparing to arrest Donner and him in the coming week, I told him I wasn’t sure where Scott was. Which was the truth. I figured he could be at Stephanie’s, but I had stopped driving by, so I wasn’t absolutely sure. Scott had sent me a few texts about the divorce. He had an attorney and wanted copies of all the papers he’d signed that day. He had also very nicely asked if I would hold off announcing our divorce until after the University Club’s luncheon and if I would meet him there and sit with him to present a better picture for Caddo Bank and Loan. His other guests would be Donner and Ty Walker. So it was two birds, one stone, in a very public birdbath.