“In Charlotte?” My pulse speeds up thinking about the gators we used to see down in South Carolina when I was a girl.
“Hell no. I’m messing with you. But it really could be soon that we see some gators up this way. There’s a damn global warming trend, and the government’s not doing a damn thing about it.”
“You’ve moved on from gay rights to global warming? I thought I’d never see the day, Wingate.” I laugh, remembering the civil rights club Wingate started in college. It was poorly attended at the time, but now I’m sure there are plenty of bearded young men and girls with purple hair trying to fight the power from the insular world of their college campus.
“I was in Raleigh protesting the house bill last week. So don’t mock me, Missy. I’m just as gay as I ever was. But now I can get married. It takes most of the fun out of protesting when they finally give you one of the rights you were looking for.” He gives me a sly grin but keeps driving down the freeway out toward Mack’s farmland mansion. I swallow a bit of anxiety thinking about driving towards the man I’ve been avoiding for so long.
I snort, thinking back to the last time I looked up Mack and Wingate’s net worth. “You’re the oddest hippie I’ve ever known—you sure know how to make money for your cousin, wheeling and dealing with all these sports professionals and NFL teams.”
“Only because I cheated off of you in every business class we took together, Ren. I sure have missed you. It’s quiet without you around sometimes. Mack’s throwing parties all the time—so it’s not quiet in the realest sense of the word. But bone quiet, like there’s not a real friendly voice around. Everyone who wants to get to know Mack—or me, for that matter—either wants to get a handout or sleep with him. Or both. Even my ex-boyfriend was with me because he wanted to sleep with Mack.”
Wingate shrugs like it was no big deal, but I can hear the loneliness in his voice. His sense of humor, though, that’s still intact—as self-deprecating as it ever was. I remember how he made me laugh when we were growing up, and I remember how much he pushed through the pain of being different, how he convinced me to pursue a business major even though I was just a poor black girl to everyone else in town. I remember too how he convinced Mack to go out for the pros, even though he was an unknown name from an unknown town, even though the house Mack grew up in was more shack than a house. There wasn’t even insulation in the walls.
What a trio we were. Everyone made fun of us because we were the poorest outcasts in town. I’d bet they’re still all there, trying to relive their high school glory days.
“It’s good to hear your voice too, Wingate. It’s been—what?—four years since we talked?” The words almost refuse to come out of my mouth. When they come out, they’re soft and hesitant.
“Yeah, four years. It’s about time we got the band back together.” Wingate taps his fingers against the steering wheel and picks up speed as we leave the city behind us.
My heart nearly stops, and I hope what he just said was more metaphor than planned reality. “I can’t work directly with Mack. That’s not the way this is going to work. There’s no getting the three of us back together. The only person I’ll share a meal with is you. And you know why.”
“Oh, I know. I know. It’s just nice to have you around is all. Mack’s not as nice as he used to be. Maybe if he knows you’re out in the guest house he’ll be better behaved. That’s one thing that might happen—if he knows you’re calling the shots, he could be more...receptive to feedback.”
I watch as the deep green pines and deciduous trees roll by, surrounded by farmland on either side of the highway. That’s one thing that California is missing—the endless forests of green on either side of every road. As we get closer to Mack’s estate, I guide my conversation with Wingate back to safer topics—old friends and long-ago drama from college, the estate that they live on, and the house that Wingate had commissioned just down the road. It feels good to fall back into stride with a man who used to be one of my closest friends, a man who helped inspire the woman I’d become. I’d missed this, and I didn’t even know I was missing it. By the time we pull into the long white driveway, there’s far less anxiety about Mack circling in my head. I’m beginning to think I’ll be able to actually accomplish my mission here...that is until I see the house.
I get out of the car, my mouth falling open in a surprised O shape. I take my breath in sharply and change out my sunglasses for the regular cat-eye glasses I keep in my Kate Spade bag.