Savannah Ch 03

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Author's Note:

Three years. That's a long time to wait for a chapter, especially since I ended the last chapter with a devastating cliffhanger. I'm sure most of my readers assumed I lost interest in this story, or that I'm the laziest writer in the history of Literotica. Neither is the case and I actually have a (legitimate?) excuse for the epic lateness of what you're about to read. The truth is, 'Savannah' is the story I'm most proud of. I know that my profile is known for 'Beauty & the Geek' and that's the story most of my readers enjoy the most, but 'Savannah' is the story I fantasized about publishing. I wanted it to be my finest example of writing. I took a ridiculous amount of time and care in writing the first two chapters, with a firm story arc in mind (something I never had with 'Beauty & the Geek' -- a story I wrote basically off the top of my head as I typed the words).

But then something happened.

Grace is based on a real person who was a very close friend of mine until she passed away long before she deserved. This happened not long after I posted chapter 2 of 'Savannah'. I tried sitting down to write chapter 3 probably fifty times over the last three years, but I just couldn't do it. It hurt, emotionally. I could hear my friend's voice in Grace's pronounced drawl. Eventually I was resigned to the fact that 'Savannah' would go unfinished. Time has a way of healing all wounds, however. A scar remains, but it's finally time to continue this story. I owe it to her, to you, and to myself. This chapter is dedicated to the real Grace and to all my readers who have waited so long to hear her voice again.

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Ashlee leaned in close to the surface of a vanity mirror, a strand of her dark shoulder-length tresses clutched between two fingers. She studied the tips of her hair, assessing the split-ends and wondering if she should make an appointment with her stylist before graduation. After careful scrutiny of several more strands Ashlee glanced towards a digital clock beside her bed and realized she had been staring at her hair for nearly forty five minutes.

"I am so bored," she declared to her reflection.

Picking up her cell phone, Ashlee made several swipes against its surface until her contacts list was displayed. She stared at Grace's name and picture, contemplating calling. The girls hadn't spoken in two weeks and Ashlee desperately missed talking to her best friend. Grace had lied about her involvement with Chase and Ashlee felt it was Grace's responsibility to take the first move and make things right between them, but if she didn't call soon Ashlee feared they wouldn't make up in time for graduation -- only a week away.

Just as Ashlee was about to move her thumb and call Grace she heard the doorbell. Setting her phone aside she hurried out of her room and trotted down a long flight of stairs into a massive entryway. Wondering who would be knocking after eight o'clock on a Thursday night, Ashlee looked through the door's peep hole.

He was the last person she expected to see.

After working the deadbolt Ashlee pulled the door open, "Chase?"

"Hey Ashlee," Chase mumbled in a deadened tone.

"Jesus," Ashley intoned, looking over the boy who had come between her and Grace. He looked terrible, as if he hadn't shaved or slept in a week. His jeans and light canvas jacket had dirty scuff marks, as though he had been rolling on the ground, and dried blood caked the left corner of his mouth. Chase's normally-neat brown hair was heavily tousled. "Honey, you look awful. What are you doing here?"

Chase leaned heavily against the door jamb as though he was having trouble supporting his own weight. "Sorry... I didn't know where else to go," he slurred slowly.

"Oh Jesus," Ashley frowned sympathetically, "You're drunk, aren't you?"

Chase smirked without enthusiasm, "I think so."

"Okay," Ashlee offered, moving to help Chase by throwing his arm over her shoulders, "You are so lucky my parents went to Atlanta for the week. Let's get you inside."

Leaning heavily against Ashlee, Chase stumbled into the house beside her. "She won't see me," he mumbled in a voiced soaked with self-pity, "She won't even talk to me."

Ashlee led him towards the closest couch within a sitting room connected to the entry, struggling under Chase's weight, "Who won't talk to you... Grace?"

Chase slumped into the couch with the strength of a ragdoll. "She's gonna marry some spoiled rich kid," he slurred, leaning his head against the back of the couch and closing his eyes.

"What?!" Ashlee's eyes widened, "Grace is getting married?"

Chase nodded, his expression twisting in pain.

"How is that even possible?" Ashlee wondered with disbelief, "Who is she marrying?"

"Dylan," Chase murmured quietly. "Dylan... I forget."

"Montgomery," Ashlee finished for him. "Oh dear. Okay, um, we better get you cleaned up. You stay here and I'll be right back, all right?"

Chase didn't reply but also didn't look as though he was going anywhere. Hurrying back upstairs, Ashley set out to fetch what she'd need. She wanted to call Grace and find out what the hell was going on but sensed Chase needed her attention more urgently. Ashlee collected a washcloth and basin as well as a pillow and some blankets before returning to the sitting room where she left Chase. He remained exactly as she left him.

"I need a drink," Chase complained, barely conscious.

"How about some coffee?" Ashlee suggested, setting her items on the floor and kneeling near Chase's feet. She dipped the washcloth into the water basin before lifting it towards Chase's face. "Were you in a fight? Your lip is swollen and bloody."

"Some asshole at the bar," Chase confirmed.

Ashlee let out a heavy sigh as she dabbed at the corner of his mouth, "You're a wreck, aren't you?"

If Chase noted Ashlee's attentions he didn't show it, "I love her, Ashlee. I'm so in love with her..."

Ashlee winced at Chase's proclamation. All at once she realized whatever frivolous crush she had on Chase paled in comparison to what he felt for Grace.

"How is this even possible?" Ashlee wondered, rinsing the washcloth free of Chase's dried blood. "Grace hates Dylan, she always has. She would never marry him."

No answer came. Chase had passed out.

"Okay," Ashlee breathed, dropping her washcloth into the basin. "This is officially the weirdest night I've had in a while."

Struggling to remove Chase's Jacket, Ashlee also pulled his shoes off and managed to lay him back on the couch. Covering him with a pair of blankets she assumed he'd be fine sleeping it off until morning. Wondering what would possess Chase to drive to her house, Ashlee assumed answers would come in the morning. In the meantime, she needed to talk to Grace.

=======

"Honey," Branford Lattimore was explaining to his daughter, "You have to understand, it's a different economic climate out there. Paper just isn't selling like it used to, what with all these computers and tablets and such."

Grace sat sullenly on her bedroom loveseat wearing a tank top and a pair of flannel boxers, arms curled around her long legs. "Ah understand, daddy," she said, her tone venomous, "Ah understand that you and mom sold me off to the Montgomery family like some kind of prized mare, so they can breed me with their stud."

Branford frowned at the analogy, standing in Grace's room wearing a long smoking jacket and playing with his slender moustache. "It's not like that at all, darlin'. Ah'm doing this for you -- for your future, and the future of your children."

"You know Dylan Montgomery is a vile snake, right?" Grace scowled at the very thought of him, "Ah would rather you marry me to a witless donkey."

Branford chuckled at his daughter's melodrama, "He's just young and foolish, like all boys his age. Y'all will get on just fine, in time."

Grace pushed a wavy strand of her blonde hair behind an ear, "Please don't make me do this, daddy. Ah'm never going to fall in love with Dylan. Ah'm already.... ah'm in love with someone else."

"The catering boy?" Branford lifted a brow.

"He's not a catering boy," Grace growled angrily. She had never viewed her father as a snobbish elitist before that moment, "He's going to school to be a mechanic; he's going to open his own garage. And his name is Chase."

"You're too young to know real love, Grace. Ah know you think you love this boy, but you're not considering your future. He can't provide for you like Dylan can. Just imagine, sweetheart - after you marry Dylan your children will stand to inherit two of Savannah's oldest and richest fortunes. You and yours will be secure for generations. Now, isn't that just a little more important than some fling you're having with a boy in a hot rod?"

Grace sighed, realizing she had little chance of making her father understand. He was right, she knew; if she married Dylan she would be marrying into the richest family in Savannah. Grace's father was simply too pragmatic and money-conscious to see the situation any other way, so he did what any shrewd business man would do - he made a deal to secure the financial future of his business and family. As her parent's only child it was Grace's duty to heed their arrangement. It may have been an antiquated southern custom, but she was honor-bound to marry a boy she loathed for the sake of her family. At least, that's how Savannah's upper society would see it.

"You're wrong," Grace spoke with resignation. "Ah love Chase, and he loves me. Maybe ah'm only eighteen but ah know what love is, daddy." She pushed on the same tousle of hair she had curled behind her ear only a few moments earlier, out of habit. "But... you're also right. If ah marry Dylan we'll get lots of Montgomery money and m'ah children will get to grow up in a big mansion. The only thing is... Dylan ain't simply young and dumb. He's a mean, viscous scoundrel who's had a silver spoon stuck up his rear side for so long he thinks the whole damned world should be kissin' his ass. If ah marry Dylan Montgomery, ah'll never be happy."

Branford sighed. He certainly wasn't immune to his daughter's pleas, "What would you have me do, darlin'? You want me to call off the deal? We won't get the contracts and ah'll be forced to close more mills. Chances are we'll lose everything. The house, all of our belongings..."

"Ah would just be happy with Chase, the money don't matter to me none."

"You say that now," Branford shook his head, "But you've never been poor, Grace. You don't know what kind of struggle that can be. Ah don't think your mother could take it."

"Don't worry, daddy." Grace pulled her legs in tighter and set her chin on a knee, "Ah'm a Lattimore and ah'll do my duty. You won't lose mama or the business."

"That's m'ah girl," Branford reached and squeezed her shoulder affectionately. "Trust me, darlin, and give it some time. It won't be as bad as what you got stuck in your head."

Grace offered a melancholy nod and waited for her father to leave the room before allowing a single tear to leak from her eye, but as soon as her bedroom door closed several of them streamed downward. She wiped a palm across her cheek and sniffled, telling herself that it would all work out somehow. Grace wanted to be strong, she didn't want to cry. Girls cried, she told herself, not women, and Chase had made her a woman.

Rising from the loveseat, Grace began pacing in her room -- a habit she performed whenever something weighed heavily on her. Her bare feet padded back and forth along the plush carpeting as she contemplated her muddy future. Luckily for the floor, her cell phone began ringing to distract Grace from wearing a path into the carpet.

Distracted, she answered without even looking to see who it was, "Hello?"

"Grace? It's me."

"Ash?"

"Yeah. Um, is this a good time?"

Grace pushed a hand through her blonde waves. Her voice wavered from the recent water-works, "It's good to hear your voice. Ah could use a friend right about now."

"So it's true? You're engaged to Dylan?"

Grace closed her eyes and let herself fall into a sitting position on her couch, "Well, no one's decorated m'ah finger with any stones yet, but ah suspect it won't take very long. How'd you know about it, anyway?"

There was a pause before Ashlee replied,

"Chase is here."

Grace's eyes popped open and she sat forward, "He's with you right now?"

"He showed up about twenty minutes ago, drunk and depressed, claiming you had dumped him and were marrying Dylan Montgomery."

Grace sounded surprised, "He's drunk?"

"Yeah, he was a mess. He's passed out on my sitting room couch right now. Don't worry, though. My parents are in Atlanta so he can sleep it off until morning. Are you going to tell me what the hell is going on?"

"It's been arranged," Grace sighed. "Ah'm such a fool, Ash. Ah should have seen it coming. We were paired up at the Spring Gala, which should have been the first clue. Then when we were dancing Dylan kept going on about what a perfect couple we would make... ah bet that slippery fink already knew about the arrangement the night of the gala."

"Why would your parents do such a thing? It's... I mean an arranged marriage? That's practically prehistoric. No one does that anymore."

Grace let out a heavy breath, "Daddy's paper company is in trouble but the Montgomery's are willing to give them some big fat contract if ah'll marry Dylan. You have to admit -- a union between our families would be pretty smart, for both sides. The Montgomery's and the Lattimore's are old money in Savannah."

"What are you going to do?"

Ashlee sounded doubtful Grace would agree.

"Ah have to marry him. If ah don't, Daddy's company'll probably go under and send him straight to the poor house. If that happened mother would likely divorce him and ah don't know if Daddy could take losing her like that."

"Jesus. So you're going to do it? You're going to marry Dylan?"

"What choice do ah have?"

"Chase is absolutely crushed; I could see it in his eyes. I think he really loves you."

Grace closed her eyes to fight back more tears, "Take good care of him, okay?"

"Is there anything you want me to tell him?"

"Ah've already tried explaining it to him," Grace sniffled. "Just tell him... tell him ah miss him, that ah think about him all the time, but that m'ah mind is made up. Ah have to do right by the family."

=======

Chase woke up with a splitting headache and had no idea where he was. Pushing the blanket off he rose on the couch and looked around the spacious sitting room, but the surroundings didn't become any more familiar. "Where the fuck am I?" he groaned hoarsely, putting a palm on his aching forehead.

Smelling coffee, Chase stood. He realized his shoes were missing. He spotted them by a chair which also contained his folded jacket. Wherever he was, he decided, someone had put him to bed. Following his nose, Chase wandered into a wide hall.

"Good morning," Ashlee greeted him from the kitchen. She was seated at a glass breakfast table situated in front of some tall bay windows, the area bright with morning sun. She had a cup of coffee and was looking at something on her smart phone.

"Ashlee?" Chase finally got a clue, "Is this your house?"

"Yep," she nodded, "Well, technically it's my parent's."

"Where are they?" Chase glanced around nervously.

"Atlanta."

"How did I get here?"

Ashlee's gaze narrowed, "You came here, last night, drunk and bloody. Don't you remember?"

Chase shook his head embarrassedly.

"Jesus, Chase. Are you stupid or something? You could have killed someone driving drunk like that." Ashlee stood and moved towards a cabinet, "And why are you at bars getting into drunken brawls? You're not even old enough to be in a bar."

Chase slumped into a chair as Ashlee prepared him a cup of coffee, "I know... I know..."

"Even if you are crushed because of Grace, there's no excuse!"

"I'm sorry I showed up here like that. It won't happen again, I promise."

"I don't mind that you came here," Ashley sat the coffee in front of him and rejoined Chase at the table, "But take a taxi next time, would you?"

Chase nodded sullenly and tried a sip of the coffee. It was too hot so he blew on it.

"I talked to Grace last night," Ashley's voice softened, "She wanted me to tell you that she misses you."

Chase let out an unamused laugh, "If she missed me so much she wouldn't be marrying that spoiled jerk-off."

"She doesn't

want

to marry him. She wants to be with you. But her parents arranged it."

"What is this?" Chase growled, "Medieval times? Who arranges marriages anymore?"

"This is Savannah, honey," Ashlee reminded him, "Old money, old customs."

Chase pulled an old flip-phone from his pocket and checked the time, "Shit, I've got to be at work in a couple hours. I'm supposed to be serving at some dinner tonight."

Ashlee asked worriedly, "In Ardsley Park?"

"Yeah," Chase quickly swallowed some coffee, "At the Event Center ballroom."

"It's a banquet for this year's graduating seniors and their families," Ashlee knew, "They do it every year. Which means..."

Chase finished her sentence with no small amount of trepidation, "...Grace will be there."

Ashlee bit her lip nervously, "Yeah. And Dylan Montgomery, too."

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"M'ah gawd," Grace tried getting out of her father's Cadillac, "This dress is tighter than a virgin on prom night."

Branford couldn't help but chuckle at his daughter's comment. He didn't criticize her vulgar phrase because he knew Grace had learned it from him.

The two had arrived to the Event Center together; Grace's mother was already there setting up, as she had been on the banquet's planning committee. "You look beautiful," he said after walking around the car and helping her out, "Just like your mother when she was your age."

"Ah bet she never wore anything so slinky," Grace took a moment to tug at her gown. It was a red thing that clung to her body like a second skin, covering her slender frame from ankle to breast. It had a low back and sparkled with silvery glitter; a slit up the left side revealed her leg to mid-thigh. Grace's accessories included a silver pendant necklace with matching bracelets that hung loosely from her wrists, red heels, and a white clutch purse. Her blonde hair was gathered up into a coil at the back of her head revealing the soft, pale skin of her neck.

"You picked the dress out," Branford reminded her, offering his elbow as an escort, "Ah don't know why you fret so much about it."

Grace swapped her purse into her other hand before slipping an arm around her father's, "It looked good on that mannequin in the store..."

Before they reached the entrance of the Event Center Grace spotted a familiar face at the far edge of the parking lot, where Ashlee was stealing a cigarette away from prying eyes. "Look, there's Ash. Ah'll meet you inside, okay daddy?"

"Don't be long," Branford agreed, "Your mother will be waiting for us."

Trotting in her heels, Grace hurried towards her friend. "Ash!" she called with a wide grin.

Ashlee discarded her cigarette, beamed a smile, and closed the distance between them, "Grace!"

The two friends embraced tightly. Even though it had only been two weeks, they hugged as though they hadn't seen each other in years.

"I missed you so much," Ashlee clutched.

"Me too," Grace reciprocated.

"Do you have any more of those smokes?" Grace wondered when they finally separated.

Ashlee nodded eagerly and began fishing in her purse, which was silvery and matched her leggy mini-dress. Her own darker hair was coiled up in a similar fashion to Grace's.