I was sitting in the far corner of the reading room inside the Parker Family Mansion, a sprawling one hundred and fifty year old sugar plantation located on the Savannah River, with my older brother Jason and we were doing what we did best, gossip.
Good old fashioned "did ya hear about?" between the two of us, facilitated I was sure by the joint I had pressured him into sharing with me out in the garden, amongst the walled maze of blooming confederate jasmine and majestic, moss covered oaks before coming back inside , to blend in unnoticed into the art auction that had been going on all night.
We sat on the corner of the small bar snickering under our breath just like we had as teenagers , when our parents used to drag us here for parties or functions and our mother would end up berating us about our abhorrent behavior in public, and neither of us caring then or now as we sat telling tall tales.
"How much money, Jordan?" Jason had asked, astonished at my first answer to his question.
"Ten ...thousand...." I repeated flatly, not cracking a smile.
" He's a circuit court judge ....who we've known since we were kids , hell he bailed us both outta jams more than once!" he admonished , still thrown by what I had just told him as he watched the old man in the powder blue suit walk across the room .
" Ok.... So he's a cool old judge with a penchant for escorts and high stakes poker, and he also owes me ten grand." I smirked at him as I signaled the waiter floating by for another vodka tonic.
"Alright, who else?" he asked laughing at my statement.
I looked around the packed to the gills room, picking my next victim, familiar, well dressed faces littered the crowd , people he and I had known for years either personally, professionally or through our parents and their very active social life .
I zeroed in on Amanda Hayes, beautiful, blonde, angelic, and also just like most of the people in this room, she was hiding a secret. One that I was sure could bring her seemingly good girl image crashing down around her and ruin her perfect family in the process.
The daughter of a well-known , well liked, and very proud Baptist minister here in Savannah, Amanda was the epitome of a preacher's daughter, dressed down in a pastel blue summer dress that hid her curves well, with her hair back in a ponytail complete with a ribbon matching her dress, and very little makeup.
"Amanda Hayes..... She shoots and stars in amateur porn when she's away at college." I said, smiling at his stunned reaction.
" Holy shit Jordan, how could you possibly know that?" he asked curiously, blatantly staring at the attractive young woman.
"Where do you think she got the money for the production equipment ....and she paid me back six months into her first year with interest , she is a smart girl ,very business savvy with just a touch of freak." I grinned.
We were both giggling about our conversation, laughing like we always did, enjoying one another's company for the first time in a very long time.
The animosity between us had seemed to subside for the moment, and it felt good to have my brother back even just for a random evening, despite the strain that still lingered we were slowly trying to heal the damage of harsh words and disagreements that had bruised our normally deep bond, over the last year .
"Is there anyone in this town you don't have dirt on?" he asked curiously as he glanced around the room.
As his new wife Ashley walked slowly up behind us , looming like the predator she seemed to be my demeanor instantly changed and I was quickly on guard , it was no secret that I didn't like his new bride and made no qualms about it .
"Yes ... Your new wife." I said under my breath, frowning in disappointment as she slithered up next to him, her perfect smile, perfect blonde hair and perfect tits that were spilling out of the little black dress she wore instantly getting under my skin.
"And just what are the two if you talking about?" she asked playfully, all the while her eyes on mine, glaring at me.
You could feel the tension between us, it had been there the minute I had met her and the very moment she first spoke to me a year ago, Ashley Brooks Keller had seemed too perfect, and it had set off my alarm bells instantly.
"The dirty little secrets people try to keep." I said to the buxom blonde.
"Well I'm sure the room is full of them." she said sarcastically, tightening her grip on Jason's arm and clearly putting an end to any fun we were having.
I looked at my brother and smiled before kissing him lightly on the cheek.
"Thanks for hanging out, I'll see you later." I said before walking away from the two of them, not wanting to get into a pissing contest with her once again over Jason's time, or some snippy conversation that I didn't have time for.
I could hear the two of them as I strolled casually away , bickering as they usually did , her scolding him for being high which was my fault and that would lead to them squabbling about me .
I didn't trust her, I knew very little about her and that was only because Jason had asked me not to check on her background, not to be my normal paranoid self, and I had honored his wish despite how wary I was of her.
They had only been together barely a year now , had gotten married four months into their whirlwind romance , my brother had been reeling from a breakup with Becca of their six year relationship after giving her the ultimatum of him or her involvement with me and our growing illegal empire .
Becca had chosen power and it had crushed him, they no longer spoke and the animosity between them was still fresh and seething. As for him and I, it took months for him to stop blaming me for her choice or to even speak to me and with Ashely around repairing our wounded relationship would be difficult.
I melted easily into the crowd, an eclectic mix of old money and local artists for the art exhibit and auction being put on by Caroline Carson, the curator of The Savannah Museum of Art.
My oldest, deepest addiction had asked me to come, knowing I would never say no to her and was always willing to lend my family name to anything she was doing to raise money or promote local artists.
Catered food, flowing drinks , soft jazz and open checkbooks would be how the evening would go , it was never about the incredible talent Caroline had put together, it was always about who could write the fattest check and outdo one another in bidding and bragging rights.
I moved through the growing crowd giving polite hellos, and agreeing to drinks or a meeting here or there, but really needing some air as I worked my way through the main dining hall and out onto the rear patio through the glass french doors, the warm June breeze felt good against my cool skin.
Looking down at my Movado watch, it was only nine p.m. and it would be another hour until the auction began, and I was beginning to feel restless.
