“Furthermore, I don’t think you understand the situation I am in.”
Etta’s eyes lit up. “What do you mean?”
“I’m already dealing with everyone thinking I’m your trophy wife.Having that slapped in my face… even if you so generously changed the terms right away… was insulting and killed any emotional security I had that day. No, I’m serious.” She had to stop Etta from replying too soon. “You need to understand what is going on and why something like that was not okay.”
Etta sat back, exhaling words. “All right. What’s going on?”
Where to freakin’ begin? Jamie didn’t even touch the wedding stuff. That was its own can of worms that would be as productive as a potato working the assembly line in a factory.
Instead, she focused on her struggles fitting in with the rich crowd, particularly the women who had their own code of ethics and manners that Jamie could not understand, let alone emulate. Why should she even bother anymore? They clearly didn’t want her around. She was amusing when she was just Etta’s girlfriend. Because of course a young woman like Etta would want to have her fun with an equally young woman of any standing – all that mattered was that she was hot, sexually available, and someone who was good arm candy at functions and in front of her coworkers. As for being her wife? Forget it! Didn’t she know that was suicide? What would happen when beauty faded and Etta was left with a dumbass who couldn’t match wits with her, let alone be a good enough hostess for parties? Or, barring that, shouldn’t she at least be able to help her with her business… beyond being her glorified secretary? Etta had proven herself by raking in her billions. What was Jamie doing to prove herself? Pull down her panties at the country club so everyone could see what a hot pussy Etta had scored herself?
By the end of her tirade, Jamie had tears of frustration in her eyes. “They all treat me the same. I’ll never be one of them. Not that I want tobecomethem, but it would at least be nice to go to a party, a restaurant, or the country club without a gaggle of stuck-up fuckheads whispering about me.”
Etta remained patient, one elbow propped on the table andchin resting in her hand. Her other hand tapped against the glass, fingers flexing, watch rattling. “I’m sorry to hear that,” she said. “Of course, my inclination is to say that they don’t matter and you shouldn’t take what they think of you into stock, but I know as well as you do that such a thing isn’t easy.”
“You’re telling me.” Jamie was ready to break out the harder alcohol. Wine was not going to cut it. “It’s not just about me, Etta. It’s about you, too. Anything I do reflects on you. Maybe you can get away with it around professionals, but if I tarnish your image too much, they’ll…”
“They won’t matter. Jamie,” Etta took her shaking hand, “even if my business went belly-up tomorrow and I lost every one of my investors, it wouldn’t matter. Well, I say that flippantly, but you know what I mean.”
Jamie wasn’t sure if she did.
“We wouldn’t have the same amount of money, sure, but I’ve got some saved in protected accounts that no agency in the world can touch. I’ve got investments spread across the globe, constantly making me interest. If I lost my primary source of income? Whatever. Even if I had to use a bunch of my savings and sell off my investments to cover whatever happened to bring my company’s downfall, I would still have enough to get us through the rest of our lives. It may be a modest lifestyle, but it would be plenty to live a little here or bigger out in the countryside. Now, do you know why I spread so much of my fortune around just in case?”
Jamie sniffed. “Because you grew up poor.”
Etta narrowed her eyes. “Because I grew up so poor that some nights I watched my mother count out every coin in her wallet. That was it. That was literally every penny she had. Her bank account was empty and she wasn’t getting paid for four days, but both she and I had to eat. It may have been noodles and peanut butter, but we ate because even when she bled more money than she made, she knew how to budget. You think I didn’t pick that up?”
“I know you did.” Jamie squeezed her hand as she thought of Etta’srough upbringing.When she talks about her mother, I think about how much I would like to meet her.Anne Coleman was squirreled away in some retirement community in South Carolina. Etta rarely spoke to her, but the money allowed her mother to stop working and relax for the final years of her life, however long they would be.Does she know we’re getting married?
“So, I understand, Jamie. We’re not in the same position, no, and maybe you’re judged harder than I am for stupid reasons I’ll never understand, but we are both judged wherever we go because we know what it’s like to sleep on a dirty floor and know – and accept – that’s where you’ll be sleeping the next night, too. As nice as some of those people are, as welcoming and accommodating as they have tried to be to both me and you, they will never know what it’s like to go to bed hungry, knowing that the meals you get at school will probably be your only ones the next day if a friend doesn’t invite you over.”
Jamie hadn’t heard this much disdain in her voice in a while. Etta didn’t often talk about her upbringing. Jamie never got the impression that she was ashamed of it, but when Etta did speak, she felt the bad memories and fears that came from being impoverished.I was lucky my parents were never that poor… unwillingly…Jamie didn’t know that level of living until before meeting Etta, when she couldn’t get a real job to save her life but was stuck in one of the most expensive cities in America.I could never go back to that.More tears skirted the edges of her eyes. Just the thought of taking her cat back to the hovel they once lived in was too heartbreaking to bear. Even with Etta at her side, it would be hard.
But she was right. She knew what it was like to live a poor woman’s life. If Jamie had to choose someone to survive poverty with, it would be Etta.
“Listen to me.” Etta’s hand traveled up her arm. “I’ve dated those women. The daughters, the ex-wives, the granddaughters of big men who either made their own money or their fathers and grandfathers made all the money. So, I know what it’s like for a woman to be likethat. I see the way she judges, whether she knows it or not. They can be beautiful, they have good manners and graces, but there’s always this air of… I don’t know how to explain it. They’re not necessarily fake, but they’re so controlled. They’re constantly aware of how others view them and what it means to be them. Some with modest origins like me don’t have problems dating them. They like the money those girls bring in, the prestige of knowing their families, the connections they make… and well, some like that type of woman. I didn’t. Do you know why I started fooling around with my assistants? It was only a happy accident that it worked out so well to have my girlfriend working for me too.”
Jamie tried not to laugh. “No. Do go on.”
“Because they were like me. They had seen every episode ofFriends. They knew what a McDonald’s hamburger tasted like. Going to Hawaii was the event of their lives, not something one did every year and barely thought about. I know some criticized me for being the type who likes ‘poor’ girlfriends because then I can show off my money and things to them. That’s a stereotype about new money blowhards like me. That we’re overcompensating for our inadequacies from high school or whatever.”
“I don’t think you’re overcompensating…”
“Thanks, but what I’m trying to say is that, barring some unforeseen miracle, I would have always married a woman with a background like yours. I don’t want a wife I can’t relate to on a fundamental level. That would put me on the path to a divorce. Jamie, I’ve only proposed to two women in my life, and I didn’t do either one without a long, hard think.”
Jamie thought back to meeting Adele in the boutique that day. “Adele is kinda like those women, though.”
Whether bringing this subject up annoyed Etta, she still continued. “She didn’t always used to be. She hides that side of her now. I realized I didn’t feel anything besides a mutual respect for her because she had changed so much. Maybe I dodged a bullet when she turned down my proposal longago. I have no idea. That’s her prerogative. Mine is to marry a woman I get along with and trust. Isn’t that you?”
“I hope so.” Jamie pushed the hair out of her face. “I know, Etta. I trust you, too. I never doubted that you thought I was good enough for you, and I know you don’t make any of your decisions easily. If you asked me to marry you… you must think I’m more than good enough to be called Mrs. Coleman.”
“So, you are changing your name?” That droll voice was going to get her ass kicked someday. Not today.
Jamie laughed. “I don’t know yet. Jamie Coleman does have a ring to it, doesn’t it?”
She nodded.
“Even so, none of this changes how those people treat me and make me feel. It can’t be helped. You hear enough nasty shit about you, and it’s going to get to you.”
