“Especially him,” Hattie agreed.
65
The Coldest Shoulder
Trae Bartholomew pounced the minute she parked her truck in the driveway at the Creedmore house.
He opened the driver’s side door and reached his hand in to help her out.
Hattie recoiled. “Don’t touch me. I have to work with you until we’re finished with this house, but unless the cameras are rolling, I don’t want you to speak, or even look at me. You’re dead to me. Understand?”
“I had nothing to do with that Headline Hollywood piece,” Trae protested. “I had no idea Jada knew anything about your family history. Hell, I hardly knew anything myself.”
“Right,” Hattie said, slamming the truck door. “Are you telling me you didn’t sleep with Jada Watkins when she was in town, filming that piece? Was that your idea of pillow talk?”
Trae’s handsome face flushed beneath the tan. “How did you…？”
“Doesn’t matter,” she said. “Nothing you say matters to me. ’Cause now I know that if your lips are moving, you’re telling a lie.”
“Whoa!” he said, running to keep up with Hattie as she strode up to the house. “Aside from the fact that I did not, repeat, did not, tell Jada anything about your father, please explain why you think I would do anything that would negatively impact this show? We need this show to succeed, Hattie. We both need it.”
Hattie stopped and took a deep breath. “Actually, Trae? This morning I realized I don’t need this show to succeed. I want to finish this house and make it the best thing I’ve ever done, so that I can sell it and move on with my life. But even if the network hates it, I’ll be okay.”
“Keep telling yourself that,” he said under his breath. Then he hurried away.
* * *
Cass was waiting for her on the front porch. “What’d you say to Trae just now? I saw the look on his face. He took off away from you like a scalded dog.”
“Let’s just say we have a new understanding,” Hattie said.
“Something tells me this was about that Headline Hollywood story. Did you get my messages last night?”
“Yeah,” Hattie said, sheepish. “Sorry I didn’t call you back. I fell asleep on the sofa almost as soon as I got home, and by the time I dragged my butt to bed and saw you’d called, I figured you’d be asleep.”
Her account of the previous evening wasn’t a lie, Hattie rationalized. She was just choosing to omit the part where Mo had joined her in the bed, before she accused him of betraying her and kicked him to the curb.
“It’s okay,” Cass said. “Sucks, though. You should have heard what Mom had to say about that Jada Watkins bitch. Child, please!”
“Nobody messes with Zenobia’s girls, right? So, what’s going on inside?”
“Trae must have stayed late finishing the kitchen floor, and if he wasn’t such a man skank, I’d tell him how great it looks. Hate to say it, but everything in that kitchen is perfection now. The island, those brass ship’s lanterns, all of it. The glue’s dried on our nautical charts, so I hung the mirror when I got here this morning, and the electrician is in there hanging the sconces as we speak, so we can check that off the list. The backyard has been sodded. No more septic tank of doom. We have landscaping! And the carpenters have started tearing apart the old dock house. They’re moving right along.”
“That’s awesome, Cass,” Hattie said, walking into the living room.
“Mo got here even before I did,” Cass said. “He was asking if I knew where you were. He wants to shoot you and Trae talking about the kitchen this morning. Lisa’s waiting to do your hair and makeup.”
Hattie frowned. “There’s nothing on the call sheet. I was supposed to do a walk-through with the Realtor, Carolyn Meyers, to talk about what price we want to list the house for.”
“Did you check your email this morning? Mo sent a revised call sheet at one thirty-two A.M. Guess he had a sleepless night.”
Hattie bit her tongue.
* * *
Lisa had Hattie’s hair up in hot rollers while she applied Trae’s eyeliner and mascara. The silence in the room was deafening.
“Not much longer now, huh?” Lisa said, glancing between the two stars. “Two more days?”
“That’s what I hear,” Hattie said.
“I’m really gonna miss this gig,” Lisa said. “And Savannah.”
“Where are you from, Lisa?” Hattie asked, mostly to fill the silence in the chilly space.