Chapter 5
The smile on Holden Shaw’s face as he pockets his phone makes me want to vomit. You know I love you, and I’ll do anything for you, right? Blech.
“Sorry,” he says, lifting his head. “That was…”
I quirk a brow. “The girlfriend?”
“Important.”
“Well, bless her heart,” I say, clutching my chest with mock concern. “I hope it’s nothing too serious.”
He straightens to his full height, which I note is about six inches taller than mine. Not many people can make me look up, but here we are.
“Ms. Calhoun…”
“It’s Maggie.”
“Magnolia,” he says slowly. “Why are you here, exactly? Artie doesn’t make it a habit of introducing me to the extras, and you’re clearly not a fan.”
“Clearly.”
He plasters on a fake smile. And dang, he has great teeth. “Well, it was lovely to meet you. Tell Artie I’ll catch up with him later,” he says, then spins on the heel of his sparkly-starred tennis shoe (not touching that) and heads for the back of the stage.
Oh, no you don’t.
“I do not work for you. So you can tell Artie yourself.”
He stops and turns, dragging a hand over the scruff he couldn’t be bothered to shave. “Do you have a problem with me, Magnolia?”
“I go by Maggie, and yes, I have a problem with you, Mr. Shaw. Are you always this rude?”
“Only when it’s warranted.”
My mouth drops open. “I’ve been nothing but polite to you.” Mostly.
“You call this polite? Isn’t Texas supposed to be the friendly state?”
“Friendship state,” I snap. “And only when it’s warranted.” I perch on the edge of the table and rub my temples. “Look, Holden, I don’t know how things are done in your neck of the woods, but around here, we’re gracious to people who are trying to help us. So could we maybe—”
“Wait,” he says, interrupting me. Again. “What are you talking about? Help with what?”
“Dancing, Holden, which you’d know if you’d been listening to me instead of texting your girlfriend.”
He links his ridiculously long fingers over the top of a worn-in Dodgers cap. “You’re serious.”
“From what I hear, you’re about as coordinated as a newborn colt.
Sounds like your poor director’s getting desperate.
” The words are out before I can stop them.
I wince. Holden may have been raised in a barn, but I wasn’t.
Okay, technically, he was probably raised in a mansion, and I was literally raised in a barn, but that’s beside the point.
“I’m sorry,” I say, softening my tone. “Artie didn’t say that. He didn’t even suggest it. He just mentioned you were having some trouble and thinks I might be able to help.”
“Thanks, but no thanks. I already have one psycho dance instructor. I don’t need two.”
Psycho?
My hands clench into fists. “Fine by me.”
Holden pulls off his hat and runs those notable fingers through a head of mussed-up brown—not blond, thank goodness—hair. His storm-gray eyes bore into mine. I swallow. The man is intimidating, and for reasons I should probably unpack with a licensed therapist, I find it incredibly sexy.
“Oh, good. I see you two have broken the ice,” Artie says, stepping onto the stage.
“I’m happy to report we’re getting the AC fixed.
But not for another day or so. Should be fine, since we’re not filming here ’til next week.
” His gaze bounces between us. “If it’s this hot tomorrow, though, we’ll have to find you another practice space. ”
He grins and gives Holden’s arm a playful smack. “Maggie tell you the good news? No more Helga!”
Helga? Yikes.
“I love Helga,” Holden says through gritted teeth.
“You hate Helga. But lucky for you, Maggie here is a terrific dancer, and when I mentioned we were…still getting the steps down, she kindly offered to get you up to speed.” He beams at both of us. “And she can start tomorrow.”
“Tomorrow? Wow. That’s so soon.” Holden widens his eyes at me, as if telepathically willing me to back out.
Not a chance.
I flash a smug smile. “Can’t wait.”
After wrapping up the paperwork, I hightail it out of the dance hall, determined to avoid an awkward run-in with Holden. I’m practically speed-walking through the parking lot when I power up my phone and find a text from Ben.
Constance is here
Irritation flares in my chest. She’s bold. I’ll give her that
Seconds later, my phone chimes with my brother’s call.
“I’m sorry, Ben. You’re supposed to be studying, not babysitting.”
“Hey, it’s cool. I’ll have to duck out when you get here, but it’s been…oddly good. It’s nice seeing her, you know?”
“You’re way too forgiving.”
He laughs. “And you’re not forgiving enough.”
I dig my keys out of my pocket and unlock the car. “I’m leaving now. Should I pick up dinner? No, wait. That would just encourage her, wouldn’t it?”
“You could cook,” he says. “That’d scare her off.”
“Very funny.”
“Actually, she brought barbecue. She’s inside heating it up.”
My brother’s a sucker for Schumacher’s brisket, which is no doubt what she got.
Smooth move, bestie.
“Okay, then,” I say, sliding behind the wheel. “I guess I’ll just come home.” Ugh.
“Hold on, how was the audition?”
“Strange.” I check myself in the mirror, then pull on my seatbelt. “I wasn’t cast as a dancer. I was recruited to teach.”
“Teach the extras? Damn, that’s legit. You could end up in the credits.”
I pinch the bridge of my nose. “Teach Holden.”
“Whoa, seriously?”
“Before you get all worked up, you should know he’s a jackass.” An insufferable, hot-as-blazes jackass. “I’m already dreading it.”
Ben coughs. “Did Mama’s little angel just cuss?”
“Jackass doesn’t count—it’s an animal. Mama would back me up.”
“So let me get this straight. We’re talking about the Holden Shaw. The most laid-back, down-to-earth guy in Hollywood.”
“Yeah, not so much.” My mouth tilts. “But my altruism will totally be worth it if it gets me in front of Barrett.”
And with Holden in the mix? The odds just shot way up.
Right on cue, the door to the dance hall opens and Holden steps out, ball cap pulled low. He rounds the building to the side where I’m parked and sags against the wall like the day has finally caught up to him.
Poor baby. Somebody get him a juice box.
I turn the key, and my GTO growls to life, snapping him upright.
“I’ll be home in fifteen to relieve you,” I say into the phone.
“See you soon, Mags. Drive safe.”
Holden’s eyes track me as I shift into reverse and ease off the clutch.
“Later, jackass.”
Then I gun it, leaving him behind in a cloud of caliche dust.
Constance’s laugh scrapes my eardrums like rusted wire when I step into the foyer. I want her to be happy. I do. But for some reason, her happiness here bothers me. And my brother letting her off the hook so easily bothers me too.
You’ve had a long day. Shake it off.
“I’m home,” I say, trying for cheerful. The door thuds shut behind me, and the laughter cuts out. Two pairs of eyes flick my way from the kitchen island. “Something smells good in here.”
Ben hops to his feet. “I’ll make you a plate.”
“Thanks, but you should be studying. I got it.”
“Sit,” he says, already making a place for me. “I’m not going anywhere until we get the play-by-play.”
“So, what happened?” Constance leans forward, chin propped on her folded hands. “Ben says they hired you to teach Holden? That’s just…wow.”
I drop onto a barstool and tear into a package of plasticware. “The casting director said I ‘outdanced’ my partners, but I don’t know how that’s possible since it’s the guy who leads.”
Ben snorts. “The guy is supposed to lead, but I don’t think you got that memo, little sis.”
“It’s not Maggie’s fault if the guys they paired her with have two left feet.”
“Thank you, Constance.”
“And now you’ve been paired with Holden Shaw’s two left feet.” She waggles her brows. “Oh my God, Loretta is going to lose her mind. Did you get to meet him? What does he look like? In real life, I mean. I bet he’s exquisite.”
“He’s…okay.” I pick at a loose thread on my shirt, willing my voice to stay even.
“Tall, which is good. Bluish-gray eyes, unshaven—is it really that hard to pick up a razor? He’s definitely not what you’d call pretty, but those lashes.
Obscenely long. And his fingers…” I shake my head. “Never mind.”
My brain stalls, and I tap my nails against the countertop. “Tan, like in that surfing movie, but…” I smile, relieved. “His hair’s brown.”
Messy, sexy, long-enough-to-pull brown.
I swipe at the sweat beading on the back of my neck as Ben sets down my plate and a glass of sweet tea. Then I lift my gaze, realizing the room’s gone silent. Constance’s eyes are as wide as saucers, and my brother’s fighting a grin.
“What?”
“Nothing,” he says, dropping onto his stool.
“Yes, he’s attractive.” I wad up a napkin and fling it at him. “But like I told you, he’s also a jerk, and I don’t do jerks.”
My mind jumps straight to Wade Russo, Constance’s ex. Until recently, she was very pro-jerk. And from the way she was caressing her ring finger this morning, I have a feeling she still is.
“Seriously?” she says. “I can’t believe it.”
“Me neither,” Ben adds. “But I guess he’s not as warm and cuddly as he comes off.”
I smirk at my brother. “Either.”
“That’s not even—whatever.” He rolls his eyes.
Constance’s gaze darts between us. “Whoa, y’all still do that thing with the grammar? Never mind. I don’t care.” She turns to me. “Please continue.”
“As soon as he figured out I wasn’t one of his fangirls, he copped an attitude. And then”—I clench my plastic fork, snapping off one of the tines—“he had the audacity to call his girlfriend while we were talking.”
“Wait, his girlfriend?” Constance asks, handing me another set of plasticware. “According to Loretta, he’s single. There was even a rumor once that he was gay.” She sneaks a glance at my brother.
Ben nods, totally unfazed. “Until he showed up with Gabrielle Martin at the Met Gala a few years back and put that rumor to rest.”
“I remember that!” Constance perks up. “He looked bored as hell, and Gabrielle was positively glowing. The tabloids spun it as trouble in paradise ’til he went on some podcast and talked shit about the Gala.” She turns to Ben. “Didn’t they ban him after that?”
“Not sure,” he says. “I kind of lost interest when I found out he was straight.”
“Really?” Constance lifts a brow. “Because I’m still crushing on Jonathan Bailey.”
My fork stalls midair. Anthony Bridgerton’s gay?
“It’s harmless,” she continues, lips curving in a grin. “I mean, it’s not like he’s going to show up in my hometown and need my help with, say, dance lessons.”
Both their heads swivel to me, and I swallow my bite of brisket.
“Oh, heck no.” I reach for my tea. “Hot or not, I have way more self-respect than that. Besides, isn’t the whole point of this conversation that Holden has a girlfriend?”
“I wonder if they’re still a thing,” Ben says, pushing back from the island. “Was Gabrielle Martin the one he was dissing you for?”
I shake my head. “It wasn’t her. I can’t remember the girl’s name, but I know it started with an ‘H.’ Heather, maybe? Or Holly?”
I snicker to myself. Helga?
“Thanks for dinner, Constance,” Ben says. “It’s really good to see you. Hopefully we can do more of this now that you’re back.”
I widen my eyes at my brother. More of this?
She offers a quick smile, her gaze darting to me before settling back on him. “I’d like that.”
Ben heads to his room to study, and I finish eating while Constance picks through the pickles and jalapenos left on her plate. After a few awkward minutes of silence, she leans back, hands folded in her lap.
“I screwed up, Maggie,” she says quietly. “And I know I have no right to ask you to forgive me, but I am, anyway. Because I could really use a friend right now.”
I set down my fork. “You’ve been back a month, Constance. Why now? Did running into me this morning suddenly jog your memory?”
Because I couldn’t forget you or what you did, no matter how hard I tried.
“No, that’s not it.”
I look up just as she swallows, her throat bobbing with effort.
“I’ve driven by here a dozen times. I even called the B&B line once, but I couldn’t bring myself to leave a message.
Seeing you today? It caught me off guard.
” Her eyes shine, and I have to look away.
“I can’t imagine how I sounded. I’ve rehearsed what I’d say to you for years, but none of those words came out, except that I’m sorry. I’m so sorry, Maggie.”
I wring my hands in my lap. “What do you expect me to say? That was the worst time of our lives. And you ghosted me in the middle of it.”
“I don’t expect you to say anything. I don’t expect you to do anything. I just…”
Her voice breaks, and I can’t stand it anymore. Something in me starts to break too.
I nudge a stack of napkins toward her and slide off the stool.
“Someone from the movie is going to contact you,” I say as I begin clearing the island.
“Artie, the director, said he can use Loretta for some behind-the-scenes stuff—if she’d be interested in that.
But he doesn’t want her missing school.”
Constance sniffs. “Really?”
“He only cut her because there was no one to partner her with.” I carry everything to the sink. “Are your folks homeschooling her?”
“Not yet, but I could talk to them. Maybe I could do it.”
“He said he’d work around her schedule, so I guess that’s up to you.
” I dig a business card out of the junk drawer and bring it back to the island.
“Here,” I say, sitting beside her and placing the card in her hand.
I wrap my fingers around hers and don’t let go.
“This is my cell. Figured if we’re going to be seeing each other, you should have it. ”
She gives me a watery smile. “Thanks, Maggie.”
An hour later, the kitchen’s clean and the house is quiet. I take a long, hot shower, pull on leggings and a tee, and crawl into bed with my laptop. I stare at the screen, willing my mind to settle so I can focus on my essay, but the words won’t come.
All I can think about are the tears in Constance’s eyes and the tremble in her voice when she asked me to forgive her.
But despite what my brother thinks, I forgave her a long time ago. I just haven’t forgotten, and I’m far from over it. That’s going to take some time.
I close the laptop and set it on my nightstand. Yesterday, the only thing weighing on me was how to get my essay in front of Graham Barrett. Now I’ve got a heartbroken ex-best friend to comfort and a pretentious golden-boy actor to train.
What have you gotten yourself into, Maggie May?