No, I was a boat rocker.
Ruby kept shifting glances at me like I had popped a few mushrooms or something in the bathroom. I winked at her again, and then we walked to the dining hall where the luncheon would be held. The dark wood of the room stood as the perfect backdrop for white hydrangeas and fluffy greenery. Faux candles flickered on the tables along with trailing ivy and scattered vases of white roses. People clumped together in conversation as waiters in white jackets circulated hors d’oeuvres and glasses of wine punch. I stifled a yawn because it looked affected and because I hadn’t really slept the previous night.
Scott spotted me and pulled away from the men he was no doubt telling dirty jokes to. “Hey, you made it.”
“I told you I would,” I said, trying not to look like I could pick up a chantilly-patterned butter knife and stab him.
He looked past me at Ruby. “And you brought your assistant.”
“Yes. She’s been quite handy, and I thought she deserved some dry chicken and seeing the presentation of a worthless award.” I studied my manicure, rubbing the lotion I had used in the bathroom into my cuticles. I was being mean. But I didn’t care.
“Come on, Cricket,” Scott said, looking perturbed. He looked nice in his best suit and the tie I had bought him from some fancy London men’s shop he coveted. I should have known he was an utter ass a long time ago.
“What? I’m here. I never said I would play nice.”
He frowned. “Then leave.”
“Nope,” I said, eyeing the table with his name on it, picking out where I should sit. “When I make promises, I keep them.”
He narrowed his eyes, looking irritated. “That’s your problem, Cricket. You’re too busy being virtuous to be any sort of fun. That’s why our marriage is over.”
My hand curled because I thought I might punch him.
Ruby pressed a hand on my forearm and looked at Scott. “Wait, that’s why? Because she told me you were . . .” She held up her pinky finger and wiggled it. “I mean, Cricket, I didn’t realize that it was your virtue that busted your marriage up.”
That made me laugh. “Yeah. Being virtuous is a drag. But having a small penis is even draggier. Or maybe the not being draggy is the problem. Congrats on your award, Scott. Hope it brings you comfort in the coming months.”
My ass of a husband smiled. “I’ll be very comfortable in the coming months. You might even say I will be positively warm and sunny.”
Yeah, I didn’t feel so bad asking for this butthole to be arrested at the luncheon now. The University Club would just have to suck it on this one. I turned on my wedge and stalked to the table, trying to look powerful and not pissed. I probably looked pissed, but what of it? I didn’t care anymore what these people thought.
Ruby grabbed two wineglasses and made her way to where I had plopped down at the head table reserved for Scott. She poured the wine of one glass into the other and handed it to me. Then she turned and snagged a glass for herself.
“I have to drive back,” I said, taking the extra-full glass regardless and taking a swig.
“I can drive,” Ruby said, setting her glass down.
“Last time you drove the Spider, it cost me five hundred and seventy dollars.”
She made a face. “I have two words that are the reason I hit that pothole.”
I remembered those two words, which made me look over at Scott. And wouldn’t you know it, homegirl Stephanie was standing beside him chatting. Why was she even here? But, of course, I knew. They were in love. He wanted her to see him get this big civic award. Boy, was she going to get a surprise. So I wasn’t even mad. In fact, I was glad she was there. I wanted her to see him in cuffs and realize her little Caribbean dream was toast.
Shortly after I had finished my entire glass of wine, which made me feel way more relaxed, if not slightly tipsy, Ed Yardley strolled to the podium and asked everyone to have a seat so that lunch could be served. People moved like cows to hay, moseying toward empty tables, sitting, and passing the bread basket.
I glanced at my watch, wondering what time Jim Arnold and his law enforcement team would arrive. Hopefully after dessert. I wasn’t truly hungry, but I hated to see good food go to waste. The University Club was known for decent dry chicken.
Donner and Ty showed up, the latter a little cool toward Ruby. She’d told me that she’d told him she wasn’t interested in going out any longer. She wasn’t sure how involved he was in his father’s scheme, but she figured he had to know something of it, which meant she couldn’t even pretend to like him any longer. Donner’s wife, Marjorie, who rarely attended anything and who was rumored to be ill, had come with him for some reason. She looked gaunt and drawn, eating only her salad, wearing a severe black dress, and uttering only one sentence: “Pass the salt.”