Without even realizing what my intentions were, I leaned forward, pressing my head against Huck's back, squeezing my eyes shut, letting myself drift away, ignoring the sights and sounds around us, and, more importantly, giving myself a couple of precious moments where my mind wasn't consumed with the anxiety about the event.
"Babe," Huck said, voice a smooth, sweet sound.
"Hm?" I asked, feeling oddly light, almost buzzing. Like a meditation high without all the annoying meditation.
"We're here, babe," he said, a chuckle in his voice, making me stiffen, straighten, my head whipping around.
And, sure enough, we were on the street just outside the gates to my grandmother's estate.
"These cars are fucking insane," Huck declared, pulling off his helmet, taking mine when I handed it to him. "I could make a cool half mill chopping these," he added as my hands planted on his shoulders, using him to steady my body weight as I carefully climbed off, making sure not to flash the couple that was making their way across the street. I didn't know them. They were just a couple more reasonably attractive people in designer clothes. New money, my grandmother would call them. You can always tell, she would add. And, damn her for making me see it, but you absolutely could.
"I kind of wish you were still in that business," I said, giving him a smile as he climbed off the bike. "It would be priceless to see them all come out to find their cars missing," I told him as I reached up to fix my hair, hoping for the best since I couldn't see what I was doing.
"I'm half-tempted to call the guys," Huck said, eyes dancing as he moved in front of me, reaching up to fix some of my hair.
"Is it all in order?" I asked, running my hands down my dress, hoping nothing had gotten too wrinkled.
"You look great, babe. If they don't see that, fuck 'em," he said, surprising me by offering me his arm. "Saw this in a movie once," he added when I stared at him for a long moment before linking my arm through, hand holding onto his bicep.
"Thanks for this," I told him as we walked down the street. "This isn't going to be fun for either of us. But it's kind of nice not to have to be here alone," I admitted, feeling the words trip out before I could stop them.
"Jesus Christ," Huck hissed as we stepped in front of the open gate, giving him a view of the house for the first time. "So you come from money money," he said, looking over at me.
"I mean, technically, no. Jones does," I said, shrugging.
"Are you related to the fucking Rockefellers?" he asked.
"No. I mean, well, a couple generations back, a distant Rockefeller married one of my great-great step-aunts, but it barely counts."
"Crib like this, babe, it counts. Do I even want to know what this is worth?" he asked as we walked up toward the three-story white stucco mansion that I couldn't see through Huck's rose-colored glasses since the ones I had to wear made this place look like a prison of sorts.
"Best guess? Thirty," I said, shrugging.
"Thirty million?"
"Yeah. I mean it has never been on the market, so it is hard to say. But it has to be around there. Twenty-thousand square feet. The best of everything. My grandparents were always the showy sort."
"Where are we going? "Huck asked as I led him away from the front path. "Do we have to enter through the help entrance?" he teased.
"It's a garden party," I told him, walking over toward the arbor, the sweet peas still in full bloom, delicate red, pink, purple, and white flowers draping the wooden frame romantically.
There wasn't much I liked about this estate, but the gardens were some of them. I felt justified in liking them, though, since they had absolutely nothing to do with my family, and everything to do with a sweet, gentle old gardener by the name of Harold who made the grounds positively magical.
He used to find me hiding from the family in little nooks, would bring me with him, pointing out plants and flowers along the way, making me commit them to memory.
Lantana with its purple outer flowers with paler pink ones in the center. Bright, happy yellow buttercups. Dramatic and stunning purple bougainvillea, my personal favorite.
I'd always hoped to one day have a place that was fully mine so I could have a garden like this one.
"This place is packed. I'd almost be surprised your family could find you in this crush," Huck said as we moved into the back, the sprawling grounds dotted with wrought iron bar tables without chairs, guests expected to spend most of their day standing, socializing.
These events were always more for connection-building than actual interest in one another, in close interpersonal relationships.