Chapter 3 #2
Callie added softly, “He was a record producer for some of the biggest pop stars.” There was a flicker of pride in her voice, but something else, too...a hint of regret.
“That’s where I’ve seen you,” Augusta said. “Weren’t you a judge on that one singing show?”
Pippa, who couldn’t help herself, blurted, “Ultimate Singer of America.”
Callie’s eyes lit up at Pippa’s recognition. “His first show was Britain’s Got Stars. He put singing competitions on the map.”
“You’re on hiatus?” I asked.
“I’ve moved on,” Sebastian said briskly. “Bigger and better things.”
I knew from Pippa that he’d left the show after Callie’s season, and the rumor was that he’d been forced out. Even so, something inside me wouldn’t let sleeping dogs lie. “Like what kind of bigger and better things?”
“I’m meeting with investors about a reality show on a cruise ship,” he admitted, his eyes sparking with enthusiasm.
“A talent competition for the next big cruise act. Winner gets a cash prize and a year-long headliner contract with Lady Voyage.” He leaned back, looking smug. “It’s going to be huge.”
Pippa perked up. “I would totally watch that.”
“Do you sing or dance?” Callie asked her, amused.
Pippa laughed. “Me? Heck, no. I can’t carry a tune to save my life.”
“That’s not true,” Jordy said, nudging her. “You sing with JayJay all the time.”
Pippa blushed. “Nobody wants to hear my rendition of Pink Pony Club, trust me.”
We all laughed, the tension easing as the drinks arrived. The same young man who poured our water delivered the drinks to our table. The conversation shifted to lighter topics. Laughter bubbled up here and there. The wine loosened nerves and tongues while warming the atmosphere.
When Charise arrived back at our table with two assistants carrying two large trays, Pippa leaned in and whispered. “Oh my gosh. I know where I know our steward.”
I tucked my chin. “Really?”
“She was on Ultimate Singer of America the year before Callie.”
I pivoted my gaze to my friend. “I thought you only watched Callie’s season.”
“It’s possible that I watched more seasons than that.”
“Possible?” I chuckled. “Are you sure? Augusta is probably right that she just has one of those faces.”
“I know it’s her,” Pippa whispered. “This is so crazy.”
“It’s quite the coincidence,” I agreed.
“She hates Sebastian.”
“Why?”
“He told her that her vocal coach should be blindfolded and put in front of a firing squad for giving her false hope that she could sing.” She grimaced. “Well, something to that effect.”
“Ouch.”
“Yep.” Pippa stopped talking when Charise made her way to our side of the table with the food.
Charise set our plates down with a professional smile, but her eyes lingered on Sebastian for a moment longer than necessary. If looks could kill, his medium-rare steak might’ve come out well-done and laced with vengeance.
Sebastian didn’t notice. He was too busy cutting into scallops with enthusiasm. Callie chatted softly with Helena while the rest of us dug into our meals.
“Here, baby,” Callie said as she began sorting her salad then plucking green olives from the plate with her fingers and putting them on his scallop plate. “I hate them,” she explained to the table, “but Seb loves them.”
“I really do.” Unceremoniously, Sebastian practically inhaled all five olives she’d transferred over to him, one after another.
I couldn’t help but sneak glances at Charise as she moved through the dining room, gracefully balancing trays and topping off wine glasses.
If she really was the woman Pippa remembered from Ultimate Singer of America, then this was getting more interesting by the second.
A former reality show contestant stuck serving the judge who’d humiliated her? You couldn’t script that kind of drama.
Ezra leaned toward me, his voice low. “You’re staring again.”
I blinked and quickly looked down at my plate. “I’m not staring. I’m observing.”
His lips twitched. “That’s what cops say when they’re staring.”
“Old habits,” I murmured, poking at my scallops.
He squeezed my knee again, a silent reminder to stay present.
The conversation around the table picked up again, led mainly by Carl and Augusta, who had a natural way of making everyone feel included. Augusta was telling a story about a trip they’d taken to Greece when Jasper leaned in toward Sebastian.
“So, this reality show you’re pitching, do you think the network will bite?”
Sebastian barely looked up from his plate. “It’s not a question of if. They will.” He sounded confidently smug. “The cruise industry is untapped reality TV gold. People are stuck together on a floating hotel. A season two pick-up is practically guaranteed.”
“Like a more glamorous Survivor,” Pippa said, clearly intrigued.
“More like So You Think You Got Talent meets Love On The Waves,” Callie added with a smile.
Sebastian made a noise that might’ve been agreement...or indigestion.
The man was hard to read.
“Do you have talent lined up already?” Jordy asked.
“Got a few leads. Still scouting.” Sebastian lifted a shoulder in a noncommittal shrug. “Unfortunately, there are too many people who can’t sing their way out of a queue but think they are the next superstar.” He grunted a laugh. “Pitiful.”
I glanced toward Charise again. She was at the table next to ours, her posture poised but her expression unreadable.
I wondered if Sebastian had recognized her. His words seemed a little too on point with what Pippa had told me.
As I was about to ask Callie more about their reality show plans, Sebastian’s loud, startled yelp rang out. Our heads swiveled in his direction as the man jumped up from his chair, frantically brushing at his lap. A dark stain bloomed across his white dress shirt.
“Oh, I’m so sorry!” Charise apologized, her expression appropriately horrified. She held an empty wine glass in one hand, the red liquid clearly no longer inside it. “It slipped.”
Sebastian glared at her, his face red. Callie was dabbing uselessly at his shirt and pants with a napkin. “Guess not everyone’s cut out for singing or fine dining.”
Something flickered in Charise’s eyes, something dark and fast, before she turned on her heel and disappeared through the swinging doors to the kitchen.
Pippa leaned in close to me. “I bet ten bucks that wasn’t an accident.”
I didn’t take the bet.
I was pretty sure she was right.