Charlie gave the woman a frigid smile, her tone saccharine sweet. “I’d be very careful how you tread, Miranda, sweetie. Sometimes a person focuses so hard on what’s in front of them, they fail to see the danger closing in from the sides.”
“Yeah, I’ll keep that in mind,” the woman said, expression implying she had no intention of letting this go. “I hope you all enjoy your evening.”
Jesus. Women were vicious. Linc was convinced if they let women interrogate prisoners of war, they’d cut the time to break them by half. Wyatt hadn’t uttered a single word during the exchange. When Linc looked at him, the boy looked resigned to his fate. Linc nudged him forward. “Come on, let’s get this over with.”
Once they entered the room, Charlie swatted Wyatt on the butt, earning her a pained hiss and a startled glance. “Get your game face on, boo, or these hags will eat you alive.”
Wyatt seemed to realize they’d entered the snake pit. His shoulders went back, his head went up, and he plastered a cocky grin on his face. It was like a cab flipping its light on. Suddenly, all eyes were on them.
The next two hours were a blur of rubbery chicken, cold vegetables, and elderly women with huge fake breasts and overly tightened faces fawning over Wyatt like they didn’t know if they wanted to swaddle him or fuck him. Linc did his best to not clothesline these old ladies as they kissed and pinched at Wyatt like they had some claim to what was his.
“Check your face, GI Joe, ’cause right now you’re looking a little less like an impartial bodyguard and a little more like a jealous boyfriend,” Charlie whispered, the amusement in her voice grating on Linc’s nerves.
Linc grunted in response but tried to relax his arms at his sides and look less like he wanted to kick puppies. He spotted a woman with icy blonde hair cutting a path directly toward Wyatt and braced for another onslaught. The change in the boy was immediate. He sucked in a sharp breath like he was already preparing himself for battle. As she approached, Linc knew with certainty that this was Wyatt’s mother. They shared the same sharp jawline and wide jade eyes. Linc suspected she shared his curls as well when her hair wasn’t straightened into submission and cascading like a waterfall over her narrow shoulders.
“Oh, youarealive. Would it kill you to at least call me every now and again?” she asked, air kissing each of his cheeks before letting her gaze fall pointedly to the boy’s open collar. “Seriously? It’s like wolves raised you. This is a black-tie function and you aren’t even wearing one. Are you trying to embarrass your father?” Wyatt opened his mouth, but she raised one skeletal hand. “Don’t. I think your actions over the last ten years speak for themselves. Who are you?” she asked without taking a breath, examining Linc like he was some homeless man who’d wandered into the facility.
“Lincoln Hudson, ma'am,” he said.
Her face soured. “Who?”
“Dad’s latest babysitter,” Wyatt reminded her through gritted teeth. “Linc, meet my mom, Eugenia Edgeworth.”
“Oh, that’s right. The soldier,” she said, immediately forgetting him. “Charlemagne, darling, what happened to the rest of your dress? Did it go missing along with my son’s tie?”
“Yes, there was a terrible accident. We barely made it out with our lives,” Charlie shot back without missing a beat.
“Hmm,” Wyatt’s mother muttered. “Ansel Abrams is here, and he plans on writing a huge check tonight. I expect you to go say hello. You might still get a clerkship from him yet.”
Wyatt pulled a face like he’d rather die, but his mother either didn’t notice or didn’t care. Linc suspected the latter. “He’s over there with the swamp witch.”
“Fuck yeah, Violet’s here?” Charlie said, craning her head to look around the room.
“Charming as always, Charlemagne. Your mother must be so proud.”
“She thinks I’m the fucking tits,” Charlie assured her, goosing her own breasts for emphasis. Linc bit down on the inside of his cheek until he teared up, just to keep from laughing. He had to admit, if women were his thing, Charlie would have been an absolute keeper.
Wyatt shook his head with a laugh. “Mother, please stop calling Nana a swamp witch.”
She scoffed. “I’ll stop calling her that when she stops acting like one,” his mother countered. “Do you know she told Eloise it would just be cheaper if the woman got a knob installed on the back of her head so the plastic surgeons could just twist and tighten her face periodically without all the hassle?” Wyatt snickered, earning a scowl from his mother. “It’s not funny. She’s a huge donor. She also confused the mayor’s wife with his daughter and when Jacob Murphy informed her his wife passed away, she told him his wife had probably faked her death to get away from a boring old coot like him. Honestly, her mouth is going to cost us a fortune.”
“Then why did you invite her?” Wyatt asked.
Eugenia looked at her son as if he were stupid. “The image consultant said there were rumors we had stuffed her in a nursing home so we could siphon all her money into your father’s campaign.”
Wyatt arched a brow. “So… not a rumor so much as another one of Dad’s inconvenient truths?”
“You’re incorrigible, darling. I swear you don’t even care how much stress I’m under. These campaign parties are not cheap, and putting all this together is exhausting.”
“You have a party planner, two personal assistants, three housekeepers, and a personal chef. My heart bleeds for you, Mother.”
She shot him a look of betrayal. “You have no idea how hard my life is. I chair seven committees, I’m a volunteer docent at the museum, I have several luncheons and parties I’m expected to attend for your father, and my interior designer left right in the middle of my closet rebuild, Wyatt. It’s all too much.”
“Wow. That does sound terrible, Mother.”
She waved her hand at a waiter a couple of feet away. “Ugh, just say hello to your grandmother before you leave. I need another drink.”
“I’m going to find Violet,” Charlie announced before taking off into the crowd.
