Dennis steps right up to JP; he’s a few inches shorter but he has at least forty pounds on JP. “I hope you know, you broke Vivi’s heart. You had a good thing and you wrecked it.”
JP nods thoughtfully. “What happened between Vivi and me is none of your business, Dennis. You should probably think about heading home. I can call you a cab if you like.”
“If I like?” Dennis says. He might not have grown up on Hulbert Avenue, he might not know a sloop from a cutter, but he knows when he’s being talked down to and he also knows that over the past three years, Vivi forked over half a million dollars of her hard-earned money to this clown. JP can act like Richie Rich—all well-bred and knowing which fork to use and his loafers-without-socks and his Wayfarers perched in his Kennedy-thick hair—but the fact is, JP Quinboro is unfamiliar with an honest day’s work.
Dennis had tried to persuade Vivi to drag JP back to court just on principle—it wasn’t right that the guy cheated on her and she was paying him—but Vivi said she was too busy with deadlines and that a prolonged court battle would be too distracting.
“I know you’re standing up for me,” Vivi said. “And I love you for it, but that crusade ended long ago. It’s over, Denny. Let it be.”
The thing is, JP wasn’t even grateful. He acted like the money was his due.
Dennis pulls his arm back and, without warning, punches JP in the jaw just as he’s bringing his Mount Gay and tonic to his mouth, so the glass goes flying and smashes against the brick walk. JP is taken by surprise, and Dennis has such a long history of bar fighting that he crosses with his left and hits JP in the nose. There’s blood everywhere.
Rip Bonham sees what’s happening and steps in. “Whoa, Dennis, come on, buddy, that’s enough.”
Dennis lets Rip pull him aside while Willa hurries over to her father with a wad of paper napkins. JP presses the napkins to his nose and there’s a red bloom through to the other side.
Willa says, “Do you need an ambulance?”
JP shakes his head and Rip escorts Dennis out to the parking lot. Those of us remaining gather our things and fold a few of the club’s famous chocolate chunk cookies into napkins to enjoy later.
It’s fitting, we suppose, maybe even flattering that Vivi has men fighting over her to the very end.
Our hostess, Savannah, leads JP into the dark, cool, and empty ballroom, where they sit on two banquet chairs off to the side. Savannah has known JP since they were children on the tennis courts here—ankle-biters, they were called, the kids who volleyed and learned to serve and then ate pizza in a circle on the sun-warmed clay. JP was just one of the crowd, indistinguishable from the other sons of privilege Savannah had grown up with, until he started dating her best friend. And then married her, had children with her, cheated on her, and caused her all kinds of heartache. Savannah is annoyed to be in the position of having to comfort him, and yet she knows this is what’s called for.
“I’m sorry that happened,” she says. “I should have been watching Dennis more closely. He was a ticking time bomb.”
“I never understood what she saw in him.”
“He’s salt of the earth—she liked that. Plus, he worshipped her, and after what she’d been through…”
“She wanted the opposite of me,” JP says. “Well, that she got.” He looks at Savannah; she sees a pair of bloodshot green eyes above the bloody napkin. “You know, my relationship with Vivi wasn’t exactly black and white. It was probably the most complicated relationship in the history of the world.”
This makes Savannah laugh. “You sound like such a pompous ass.”
“I know,” JP says, then he starts to cry. “I loved her so much. From the instant I set eyes on her, when I picked up those clothes at the dry cleaner’s…”
“You were picking up your mother’s dresses,” Savannah says. “That alone should have warned her to stay away from you.”
“I made such a mess of things,” JP says. “Dennis wasn’t wrong—I did break Vivi’s heart. I know I did.”
Savannah relieves JP of his bloody napkin. His nose looks like a rotten strawberry, and a bruise is forming at his jawline. That’s going to hurt in the morning. “I’d love to parse it all out with you, JP, but I’m not in the right frame of mind right now. We need to focus on what’s important—”
“Finding out who hit her,” JP says. “Seeing justice done.”