Ignite Me (The Annihilate Me Series) (29 page)

“Peachy Van
Prout does,” he said.
 
“As did her
parents and her grandparents before her.
 
She inherited this mansion from them.
 
Her family made their wealth through
sugar.
 
And they still do.
 
The Van Prouts have been in the book
since the book was first created.”

“The book?” I
said.

“The Social
Register.”

“Oh,” I
said.
 
And then I looked
questioningly at him.
 
“Are you in
it?”

“No,” he
said.
 
“They reserve that for old
money.”

With his hand
in mine, I saw men and women first look at Jennifer and Alex as we cut through
the space, I heard people call out their names, and because it was clear that
we were with them, those same faces looked with interest at Brock and me.
 
Did Brock know anyone here?
 
I thought that he must know some of
them.
 
But since he was older now
and sporting a beard, I wondered if anyone recognized him.
 
Those two elements alone could throw
people off.

As we moved
toward the bar, which was to our left, the space was so tight with people that
elbows nudged elbows as people offered murmered apologies.

“What would you
two like?” Alex said when we reached the bar.
 
It was three-deep in people.
 
We’d never get a drink.

“Champagne for
me,” I said.

“Brock?”

“Bourbon—neat.”

“Give me a
moment.”

Despite the
crowd, it really did take only a moment.
 
A bartender caught Alex’s eye, I heard him say hello to Alex as if they
knew each other, and soon, Jennifer and Alex had their martinis, I had my
champagne, and Brock had his bourbon.

“Here’s to!”
Jennifer said when the four of us were together again.
 
“To an epic, memorable evening.”

At that, we all
touched glasses.

“Or maybe I
just spoke too soon,” she said as she sipped her drink.
 
“Because here comes Piggy Swarmsworthy.”

“Piggy what?” I
said.

“Swarmsworthy.”

“I don’t mean
to sound crass, but what kind of a name is that?”

When I said
that, Jennifer placed her hand on my arm.
 
“Let’s just call this the beginning for you, Madison,” she said.
 
“When I first started to come to these
parties with Alex, I felt just as you do now.
 
The names of these people sounded
ridiculous to me.
 
Tootie.
 
Bebe.
 
Blitzy.
 
And hell, even Peachy, though at least I
came to adore her.
 
But here comes
Piggy now.
 
I only met her last week
at a charitable event for cancer research that Wenn supports, and she wouldn’t
let go of me.
 
That woman is a
talker.
 
So why don’t you two scoot
now and enjoy yourselves?
 
Because
believe me, you don’t need Piggy Swarmsworthy suffocating you with questions,
which she will.
 
Alex and I will
deal with her.”

“Jennifer!” I
heard the woman’s voice call out.
 
“You’re here!
 
And you didn’t
even call to tell me that you were coming!
 
How can that be?
 
I thought
that we had a
connection
!”

“Leave,”
Jennifer hushed at us.
 
“I’m telling
you—I’m doing you a favor here.
 
We’ll catch up later.
 
Go and
dance or something.”

As we started
to leave, Piggy Swarmsworthy brushed past us in a glimmering, beaded veil of
black silk.
 
True to her name, she
was a large woman in every sense of the word.
 
Her voice boomed.
 
Her hips swung.
 
Her blonde hair had been teased to the
point that it seemed preternaturally enormous.
 
And then there was the river of perfume
she left in her wake, which was so over the top, it was probably making another
hole in the ozone.

“And there goes
Piggy,” Brock said.

“Not exactly
the runt of the litter, that one.”

He look at me
with surprise when I said that, and then he laughed.

“I’m sorry,” I
said.
 
“That was terrible of me.”

“I thought it
was funny—and it’s true.
 
I
also think that Jennifer really did do us a favor.
 
Care to just walk around?”

“I’d love to
see the place,” I said.
 
“And have a
look at the orchestra.
 
Do you
dance?”

“I do.
 
Part of my upbringing.
 
My mother thought it was important that
all of her sons learn to waltz properly so that when they got married, they
wouldn’t make asses of themselves on the dance floor.”

“How many
brothers do you have?”

“Two.
 
David is the oldest, Austin is in the
middle, and I’m the baby.”

“What do they
do for a living?”

“They work for
my father, though I’m thinking that Austin is about to come over to Wenn, if
Alex will have him, which I think he will, if only because Austin is smart as
hell—at least when it comes to business.
 
Not so much when it comes to my
father.
 
It took him longer to
become fed up with my father’s demands than I did, but from what I hear, my
father is just getting worse in his old age.
 
Austin is loyal to Dad, but there comes
a point in all of our lives when loyalty is stretched to a point where it just
snaps.
 
I think Austin is there
now.”
 

He look a long sip
of his bourbon.
 
“Anyway, let’s not
talk about them, because talking about them just means talking about my father,
which will bring down the evening.
 
That’s the last thing I want to do.
 
Tonight is special.
 
Tonight
is about us, Madison.”

When he said
that, he leaned down and kissed me on the lips.
 
Given this crowd, I sensed that any sort
of public display of affection was pushing it, but I nevertheless warmed up to him.

“Let’s go over there,”
he said, gesturing to an alcove that was off to our right.
 
“There’s nobody there.
 
Everyone’s mixing in the
middle—and I’ve been wanting to be alone with you all day.”

“I’m game.”

When we entered
the alcove, Brock’s expression turned serious.
 
He looked almost troubled to me.
 
Distracted.
 
I wondered why.

“Are you upset
that I told Peachy that we were a couple?” he asked.

“No, but it did
take me by surprise.
 
I wasn’t sure
how to react, so I said nothing.”

“Do you feel
nothing?”

When he asked
me that, I felt at once exposed and vulnerable.
 
If he was going to open this particular
conversation, I felt that it was only fair that he go first.
 

“Why don’t you
tell me what you’re feeling, Brock?”

“I can’t get
you out of my head,” he said.
 
“Somehow, after we parted on Sunday morning, I was able to go home and
pull off that report for Alex, which he accepted after giving me hell about the
first draft.
 
But focusing on it
after making love to you on Friday and Saturday was almost impossible.
 
I don’t want to frighten you away, but
you need to know that I’m consumed by you, Madison.
 
I can’t stop thinking about you.
 
I probably overspoke when I said that we
were a couple—and I apologize for that—but when Peachy asked about
us, what came out of my mouth was nevertheless how I feel.
 
I know it’s only been a week, but for
some reason that I can’t sort out, I do see us as a couple.
 
But maybe that’s because that’s what I
want.”

“Brock,” I
said.

“Let me
finish.”

Before he
could, he was interrupted by an announcement from the orchestra’s conductor, an
older man who looked to be somewhere in his seventies.
 
He came to the front of the stage, picked
up a microphone, and said, “Ladies and gentlemen, I know that many of you have already
seen and heard her at her sold-out shows at the Carlyle, but if you haven’t,
then Peachy and Robert have a real treat in store for you.
 
Tonight, Glo Glowing is here to sing for
us, and she’s going to begin with the Etta James classic ‘At Last.’”

As the crowd
erupted into what sounded like startled applause, I watched a gorgeous African-American
woman ascend the stage with the sort of poise and polish that had to be God-given.

She was not
only chic and radiant, but she commanded the stage with an assured, calming
presence that claimed the space as her own.
 
As the applause rose up before her, she
stood before the crowd for several moments before I said to Brock, “What kind of
a name is ‘Glo Glowing’?”

“If she’s
working at the Carlyle, let’s just say that it’s the perfect stage name for
that crowd.
 
What song did he say
that she was going to sing?”

“‘At Last.’”

And when I said
that, Brock took me by the arm.

“Dance with
me,” he said with a sense of urgency.
 

“Dance?”

“Give me your
champagne.
 
This isn’t by
accident.
 
Now I know for sure that
it was meant to be.”

“That what was
meant to be?”

“We need to be
on that floor now, Madison.”

He was in such
a state, I just gave my glass to him, but since the alcove didn’t contain a
table, he had to put our glasses on the floor against the wall before he led me
onto the dance floor, which was filling at a rapid pace.
 

I’d never heard
of Glo Glowing before, but it was clear by the delight I saw in people’s eyes
that they not only knew her, but also adored her.
 

As the spotlights
went up, Glo’s spirit also seemed to rise.
 
She was wearing an elegant lavender evening gown with diamonds on her
ears and wrists.
 
After she bowed
her head in acknowledgment of the warm reception, she approached the mike at
the center of the stage, and then a familiar song from my youth began.
 

From the first
chords alone, I knew this song intimately.
 
My grandmother was a longtime Etta James fan, and she used to play her
songs for me whenever I went to her house for baking lessons, one of my
favorite memories of her.
 
She
especially loved this song, because she considered it her and my grandfather’s
song.
 
I remembered her telling me
that it reminded her of the moment when she fell in love with my
grandfather.
 

“Listen to the
lyrics,” she once said to me when she was showing me how to make pie dough as
the song came on the CD player.
 

“Why?” I asked.

“Because
they’re important to me.
 
Your
grandfather and I had been dating for a few months when he asked me to dance to
this song.
 
And when we did, everything
fell into place for us.
 
When Etta
sang and Roy held me close to him on that dance floor, I knew that my lonely
days were over—as corny as that probably sounds to you, young lady.
 
But not to me.
 
I’d found my dream, and even though your
grandfather is no longer with us, he still remains a dream that I speak to.”

When Glo
started to sing the lyrics, Brock took me in his arms at the very moment when I
was recalling the lyrics to the song—and their significance to my
grandmother’s life and perhaps even to my own.
 
He had hustled us out here for a reason
to share this dance, and now I knew why.
 
As Glo launched into the song with a strong, pure voice that was as soulful
as it was divine, I just looked up at Brock.

“Listen to
every word she sings,” he said to me.
 
“Because that’s exactly how I feel about you, Madison.
 
At last.
 
Finally.
 
At last, with you, my dreams have come
true.”

When he said
that, I could only press my cheek against his chest and shut my eyes because I
knew that my grandmother was here with me now, watching over me and happy for
me.
 
I felt Brock run his hand down
the length of my hair, and then he unexpectedly twirled me around once before
he drew me back into his arms as Glo Glowing continued to sing.