Page 24 of Georgia: Britain's Story: Part 1
Rick walks up to Britain, throwing down a cocktail napkin in front of her and then me. He gives her the up-and-down once-over, and now I’m really glad she’s wearing sweats. I’m suddenly feeling very possessive.
“Hey, man.” Rick looks at me and nods his head, “Who’s your friend?” I look over to Britain, and motion with my hand to let her answer herself. I’m not exactly sure what she’s going to say. The leasing agreement clearly says London Scott, but I can clearly see that I’m sitting with Britain.
She holds out her hand for a shake, smiles and says, “Britain Palomino-Scott.” Rick takes her hand, giving a nod of approval. I’m sure I’ll get the full grilling next time I’m in here alone.
“Rick, pleasure’s all mine.” He clears his throat, “Well, Britain, what can I get for you?” I continue looking at her. I always think what someone orders to drink at a bar can tell you a lot about them, and I’m dying to know what she gets.
“Can I please have a Coors Light with a lime? And then to eat, I’ll take whatever the special is, thank you.”
“You don’t even want to know what it is?” Rick asks, a bit taken aback.
“Nope, I’m good.” She smiles, then turns to face me, waiting to hear my order, but I’m just sitting there like an idiot with my mouth hanging slightly open.
“Uh, I will also have a Coors Light and the special of the day,” I say to Rick who gives me a look that clearly saysdon’t fuck this up, buddy. He’s probably recalling the one and only time I ever ate with Tori. We came here after a late night at the office that was leading to what I hoped would be agoodnight at my house, but she insisted we stop to eat first, which was fine. However, Tori ended up throwing a real big fit, which isn’t the least bit surprising now that I know her better. First, her cosmo wasn’t chilled enough, then her salmon was overcooked, and when the crowd got thick and someone knocked into her and their beer got on her shirt, she flew off the handle screaming at the dude about silk. Suffice to say, it was a very enlightening meal.
Rick sets down our beers, but doesn’t wander too far from where we’re sitting. I shoot him a look that saysmind your own fucking businessand he scoots a little bit further down the bar.
“So, I’m glad to hear you’re not on the lam or anything.” She gives me a look of utter confusion, accompanied by a head tilt.
“London Scott? Ring any bells?” I ask, and she bursts out laughing.
“Oh, that. No, not on the lam in the slightest. My assistant does all my reservations, and sometimes she likes to mess with me.” She shrugs her shoulders. “It’s a good chance to see what names would work as a stage name or alter ego.” Now it’s my turn to laugh.
“So of the names, which one’s the winner?”
“I mean, London is pretty high up there. It’s a good play on my real name, but uh, the favorite so far is Randi, with an ‘i’. I’ve been Randi on six of the last eight business trips I’ve been on.” She takes a sip of her beer, then says, “Oh! And Bambi, I liked Bambi for a long time.”Who is this woman?With each word out of her mouth, I’m more and more intrigued. She leans in, “I’ll let you in on the inside joke with that one, me and Bambi have the same level of coordination.”
“Alright,Bambi, what have you been up to for the last, oh, 15 plus years?”
She sobers a little and asks, “The cliff notes version okay? I don’t think there’s enough hours left in the day otherwise.”
“Cliff notes version works,”for now.
“Okay, so I moved to D.C., got married, had two beautiful girls, finished my degree, helped my then husband build his company, helped him sell his company, then he filed for divorce earlier this year to, as you know, leave me for his assistant. And then I just quit said company last week, and decided to come home to work through some personal shit that’s been weighing on me for years.” She doesn’t even let me respond, only making her demand, “Your turn now, go.”
“Uhh, well…” I’m dumbstruck right now. I’m beginning to realize just how devoid my life is of any personal accomplishments. “Well, I’ve worked this entire time. Mostly on Broken Ridge, which has been really successful for us, and now we have a development starting in Sonoma, which is my next big thing. And, that’s about it.”
“No wife? No kids? No girlfriend? Or boyfriend?”
“Nope.”
“Hmm, seems like there’s a story there,” she muses.
I chuckle, “Not really. I was just always working, and then one day I realized I may have missed the boat.” As in today, I realized today. I missed the fucking boat.
“Tell me about your kids.” I’m genuinely interested.
“Okay, so Caroline’s 15 and Elodie’s 14 and-”
I cut her off, “Whoa, so your kids are like almost full grown?!” I was expecting to hear about toddlers, maybe grade schoolers.
“Yup.”
“And where are they right now?”
“At boarding school.” Wow, I’m honestly just really fucking impressed with the life she’s built. Raised two kids, worked for her degree, worked at her company. I hate how she says “his company.” You’d have to be a fool to not see she was a big part of it.
“Boarding school?”
