Center Stage: Magnolia Steele Mystery #1 (3 page)

“Uh . . . research,” I said, coming up with the idea off the top of my head. “I’m researching a part.”

“Well, you look good too. Just like when we were in school and you worked your mom’s parties.”

I glanced down at my uniform, then back up into his face. “How are you?”

His eyes clouded. “It took me a long time to get over you, Magnolia.”

I truthfully couldn’t say the same—the fight we’d had that night had revealed our utter incompatibility—but seeing him was a reminder of everything I’d left behind. Of all the people I’d hurt, him included.

My eyes started to burn, so I widened them slightly. I couldn’t afford to break down in public. Or in private, for that manner. I needed to live up to my last name.

He cleared his throat. “I’m sorry for what I said that night. For what I accused you of . . .”

I turned back to him and forced a smile. “That’s all water under the bridge.”

“Why didn’t you answer any of my phone calls? It wasn’t our first fight. We should have at least talked it over.”

I didn’t feel like going for a stroll down memory lane, and besides, I’d long ago decided that walking away from Tanner was the best thing that had come out of me leaving Franklin. If I’d stayed, I probably would have married him and been miserable. I needed to end this conversation and end it soon. “It had nothing to do with you, Tanner.”

I tried to walk around him, but he blocked my path.

“How could you say that, Magnolia?” His voice was thick with anger. “You slept with me, and then you ran away and never came back. You didn’t answer my texts or calls or even my emails. It’s like you fell off the face of the earth.”

“I’m sorry if I hurt you . . .”

“That’s not enough, Maggie. Your apology is ten years too late. Why? Why did you leave?”

“Apology?” I spat out in a whisper as I glared up at him. “You’re the one who owed
me
an apology!”

“And I would have given you one if you hadn’t run away like a spoiled little brat.”

People had turned their heads to listen to our conversation, and I wished the floor would open and swallow me whole. So much for staying under the radar. “The reason I left had
nothing
to do with you.”

“You said that already,” he said, his voice hard. “But that’s not an answer. You owe me an answer.”

Maybe that was true. But how could I give him an answer I didn’t have? How could I tell him that something terrible had happened, something that had shaped my life despite the fact that I remembered it in feelings instead of words? And besides, if I owed him anything, it wasn’t a fraction of what I owed my momma and Roy. What I owed Maddie.

“I—” I didn’t have the faintest idea what I was going to say, so perhaps it was a blessing that we were interrupted.

“Tanner.” A tall blonde in a tight red dress sidled up to him. “You’re talking to one of the
wait staff
?” She was nearly his height, which meant she had to be five foot nine without the heels. She looped a possessive hand around his arm.

He blinked. “Oh. Chelsea. This isn’t one of the wait staff. It’s Magnolia.”

Her face froze and her gaze turned icy. “Magnolia? Magnolia
Steele
?”

“One and the same,” I grumbled, wishing I could hide in the kitchen.

“Uh . . .” Tanner stammered. “Magnolia, this is my fiancée, Chelsea Coleman.”

My blood turned to sludge. Tanner was engaged. The regret caught me off guard, but it wasn’t the kind of regret that comes of jealousy. It was regret for myself—for eighteen-year-old Magnolia Steele who’d had simple dreams and a clear path. Here was another reminder that the girl I’d been was lost to me. On top of my disaster on stage the night before, it was too much. “Congratulations to you both.”

Her eyes narrowed, and her grip on his arm tightened. “I thought you were in New York?”

I wasn’t so sure it was a good thing she knew so many details about me. I tried to step around them. “I need to get back to the kitchen.”

Tanner let me go this time, but I heard Chelsea say behind my back, “Her boobs are so obviously fake.”

I stopped in my tracks.
Let it go, Magnolia. Just let it go
. I’d let my temper get the best of me the night before, and look where it landed me. Nevertheless, I found myself spinning around to face her. “My boobs are not fake.”

The surprise in her eyes told me that while she’d intended for me to hear her, she hadn’t expected me to confront her on it. She gave a little shudder, as if settling her icy exterior back in place. “Then they must be the only thing about you that’s real.”

I put one hand on my hip, balancing the catering tray with the other. The food sloshed around like the wave pool at Nashville Shores. “You don’t know the first thing about me.”

Sadistic glee filled her eyes. “Oh, I know plenty about you, including how you broke poor Tanner’s heart.”

What had Tanner told her about me, and what else did she think she knew?

But she must have decided she was done. She jerked on Tanner’s arm like he was a stubborn puppy. “Let’s go.”

He followed her, but he cast a glance back at me, looking like there was more he wanted to say.

Tears burned my eyes. I had never expected to see him here. In fact I’d never given much thought to seeing him at all. Momma had told me he’d moved to Memphis years ago, and the Facebook stalking I’d done a few years ago had confirmed it. Did my mother know he’d returned?

I found her in the kitchen, barking orders at a server.

“He’s back,” I said, placing my tray on the island.

My mother swung to face me. “Who’s back? Luke Powell? Last I heard he hadn’t even deigned to make an appearance yet.”

“No. Tanner,” I said, feeling lightheaded. “Tanner McKee. You told me he’d moved to Memphis.”

There was a flicker of sympathy in her eyes, but it was gone so quickly I would have missed it by blinking. “Last I heard he was still there. I saw his mother a few months ago, and she was braggin’ that he was engaged.”

“Well, he’s back.” I pointed to the swinging door. “And he’s
here
. With his fiancée.”

My mother looked exasperated. “Magnolia, you moved away. He moved on. Literally. Why do you care if he’s engaged?”

“I don’t know.” And I didn’t. It was just that everything at home was so different. A secret little part of me had hoped my old life would be waiting for me if I ever chose to come back.

“You have a job to do, Magnolia. Now get out there and serve.”

I grabbed a new tray and exited through the swinging door, taking a deep breath to compose myself. Coming home had been a mistake, but I still had nowhere else to go.

For better or worse, I was in Franklin to stay.

T
anner and Chelsea
had left the living room, and I spent the next half hour looking for them in my peripheral vision. I still hadn’t figured out if I actually wanted to see him or not. At least there wasn’t too much time to think—the party had picked up, and it was plenty busy. Tilly had moved me out to the large marble entryway, which was a grand hall in and of itself. I was offering a crab puff to a country music power couple when I heard my name again, but this time I knew it wasn’t Tanner.

“Magnolia Steele. My, my, my. How quickly things change.”

I sucked in a breath and slowly turned to face Max Goodwin, agent and mega sleazeball. We’d met at a rehearsal, after which he’d invited me to dinner. Over tiny pieces of prosciutto-and-Muenster-cheese-stuffed quail breasts, he’d offered me representation. He said he had big plans for me—a country music album, fame, and movie stardom—and it would all be mine if I went back to his hotel room with him.

I’d lifted my black camelback shoe to his crotch and started to gently roll the ball of my foot over his important parts.

“You want my undivided attention?” I asked with a sexy smile.

His eyelids lowered, his jaw tensed, and his breathing sped up. A knowing smile spread across his face. “You make my dreams come true, and I’ll work on yours.”

“That’s such a generous offer, Mr. Goodwin,” I cooed as I increased the pressure.

He gripped the table, his diamond-studded ring flashing in the candlelight. “I can be a very generous man.”

“And if I don’t feel like going to your room . . . ?”

He gave me a sly grin. “There are plenty of others who will.”

“Well . . . When you put it that way, I know exactly what to do.”

He leaned back, giving me better access to his crotch. “I knew you’d see it my way.”

My smile fell. “Oh, I see it your way all too clearly.”

I slid my foot higher and pressed my four-inch stiletto heel over his favorite body part. “That’s why I’m willing to give you this.” Then I jabbed, admittedly harder than I’d intended.

Max had to be taken to the hospital by ambulance to receive some kind of hush-hush emergency medical treatment. I was lucky he hadn’t pressed charges, but what man wanted to admit that his penis had been shish-kebabbed by a woman’s heel?

But now he stood in a room full of close to hundred people—along with probably fifty more on the upstairs landing—and judging from the look on his face, he still held a serious grudge. He was going to fry me alive.

I started to walk away, but he grabbed my arm and spun me around to face him, sending crab puffs flying off the tray.

“Let go of me, Max,” I growled in a low tone.

“Aren’t you supposed to be on a Broadway stage right about now? The curtain went up about an hour ago.”

I jerked out of his hold and took a step back. “What I do is none of your business, Max Goodwin.”

“You’re no talent wannabe, Magnolia Steele. You got that role because you were sleeping with the director. And once he realized you were only good at one thing, and it wasn’t acting, he knew he had to fire you. That was quite a temper tantrum you threw on stage. You’ll never get another theatre role again after that performance.”

I jabbed my finger into his chest. “My reviews were amazing.
The New York Times
called my performance in previews fresh and inspiring.”

An ugly grin spread across his face. “Who’d you sleep with to get that review?”

“You of all people know I don’t sleep around to get ahead in this business. And even if I did, James Marlow wouldn’t be interested in what I have to offer seeing as how he’s gay.”

“If you’re so amazing, what are you doing here serving crab puffs?” He glanced at the appetizers on the floor. “You can’t even handle
that
job. You’re a loser, Magnolia Steele. If you’re here in Nashville to try to make it in the country music world, I’ll make damn sure you never see a single second in a single recording studio.”

Gritting my teeth, I decided to dust off the excuse I’d used with Tanner. “I’m working this party as research for a part.”

“What part? A play? A movie?”

“Nothing you know about.”

He laughed. “There is no part, Magnolia. You’re a washed-up has-been at thirty-three.”

“
Thirty-three
?” I screeched. “I’m not a day over twenty-five.” I was twenty-eight, but he didn’t need to know that.

He shook his head. “More lies. You really are a sad little person.”

“Why? Because I didn’t sleep with you to get some made-up role?” I asked, narrowing my eyes. “Just so you know, I haven’t lost my taste for stilettos. Next time my heel might end up stabbing your non-existent heart.”

The people around him began to laugh . . . which was when I realized we’d attracted quite an audience, my mother included. She must have heard about our confrontation and come out of the kitchen to investigate.

Well, shit on a stick.

My mother’s eyes locked with mine, and I knew I had three seconds to vacate the room before she physically dragged me out. I headed toward the kitchen, but Max called out after me. “Magnolia, you need to clean the trash off the floor. Isn’t that part of your job now? Poor white trash serving sub-par appetizers.”

My mother stopped in her tracks, her eyes narrowing. “Did he just call our appetizers sub-par?”

Tilly slid through the back of the crowd, holding a tray of mini cheesecakes. I didn’t miss the little push she gave my mother, but most of the people in the room probably didn’t notice—they didn’t know Tilly and my momma as well as I did. There was a big, fake smile plastered on Tilly’s face. “Luke Powell knows how to put on a party. Food
and
entertainment.”

She was followed by Colt and a pretty blonde who was part of the catering staff. Both of them were holding trays of mini cheesecakes, but they started to belt out a rendition of a duet Luke had recorded several years before with a flavor-of-the-month female pop star. Colt and his singing partner were both good-looking, and the girl actually had the vocals to pull off what the pop star could only achieve via auto-tune.

I hoped Luke Powell couldn’t hear them; Colt sounded better singing his song than he did. By the time my mother and I left the room, Colt and his partner had the audience eating out of their hands. My confrontation with Max had been forgotten.

As soon as we reached the sanctuary of the kitchen, I expected my mother to launch into me—and possibly kick me out of the party—but she focused on another source of irritation first.

“Can you believe the audacity of that man?” she said, putting her hands on her hips. “He called our food sub-par.”

The only insult that would have been worse was if he’d accused my mother of using ground worms in her sliders. “He didn’t even have any of the food, Momma. He was only trying to get back at me.”

Her eyes narrowed, and she pulled me into a corner. “What were you thinking, Magnolia Mae?”

And there it was. My tongue felt like a ten-pound weight at the bottom of my mouth, but her accusing stare finally jarred it loose. “I’m sorry.”

“I’m sorry too. I’m sorry you didn’t have a heel to stab him with.” The hand gesture she made mimicking the act only added to the surreal moment.

My mouth dropped open.

“Don’t look so shocked. You’re my daughter. I can insult you all I want, but the minute someone else does it, you can bet your ass I’m going to be like a barracuda on a bloody stump. Nobody messes with my kids.”

I had the urge to tell her the details of how I’d handled Max in New York, but Colt and his cohort entered the kitchen with empty trays.

“We had them eating out of the palms of our hands. Almost literally. Disaster averted.”

My mother lifted her chin and nodded, then turned back to plating desserts.

Colt shot me a grin and a wink before heading out the door, but the waitress hung back, probably waiting for my mother to offer her words of gratitude. She obviously hadn’t been working at Southern Belles Catering very long if she thought Lila Steele handed out compliments and thank yous like they handed out samples at Costco on Saturday afternoons.

“Why are you standin’ around?” my mother demanded, pointing to the door. “You waiting for an engraved invitation to get back to work?”

She ran off, sniffling a little.

“You could have been nicer,” I admonished as the door swung shut behind her. I walked over to help my mother plate more mini cakes.

“She has a job that pays damn good money. What more could she expect?”

“She and Colt helped you out of a difficult situation.”

“Me?” she demanded. “From where I was standing, it was all you.”

“What difference does it make? One of your staff members was involved in a heated verbal exchange. She and Colt defused the situation beautifully.”

She glared up at me. “How did it come to happen at all?”

“I know Max Goodwin from New York.” I paused. “It didn’t go well.”

She harrumphed. “Hell, I’m not blind and deaf, Magnolia. I figured that part out myself.”

Tilly came through the swinging door, looking far more stressed than when she’d made her sweeping entrance into the living room. “Oh, Mylanta,” she exclaimed, leaning her butt against the counter and resting the back of her hand against her forehead. “I need a drink.”

“Not yet, you don’t,” Momma grumbled. “We’ve got to get through this night first. Then you can get shit-faced six ways to Sunday.” She shot a scowl at her best friend of thirty-plus years. “Good thinking with Colt.”

Tilly preened for a moment, basking in the glow of the rare compliment.

Momma shoved the tray at me, her scowl deepening. “Now get back out there, Magnolia.”

Tilly blocked the doorway. “You really think that’s a good idea, Lila? After what just happened?”

My mother assumed her favorite fighting stance, her right hand on her hip. “Hell no, I don’t think it’s a good idea, but I had Trey do a head count. There are far more people than the two hundred Amy told us to expect. We need every person out there.”

“Oh, stop blowing smoke up my ass,” Tilly muttered, looking halfway amused. “We knew there’d be more than two hundred. We planned for three. And we sure as hell aren’t sending her back out there. She’s like a keg of powder just waiting for a match.”

I was pretty sure that wasn’t a compliment, but I didn’t have time to decide whether I was offended.

“You never should have insisted she work the party in the first place, Lila,” Tilly added. “What were you thinking? You had to know people would recognize her.”

The flash of guilt in my mother’s eyes only confirmed it. She’d sent me out there with the intention of humiliating me. I crossed my arms, weighing my options—should I leave? But I realized I had only one option, and at the moment it didn’t sit very well.

When my mother didn’t respond after a beat of silence, Tilly rolled her eyes and said, “Maggie stays back here for the rest of the night. I’ll work her section.”

“You?” my mother exclaimed.

Tilly shrugged. “Sure. Why not? I can play a little undercover boss.”

My mother released a little shudder. “For heaven’s sake, woman. What are you thinking? Besides that gambit with Colt and the girl, you haven’t worked as part of the serving staff for years.”

Tilly grabbed hold of the tray in my hand and jerked it from me. “If you and I can’t step into every position in this little outfit, we’re not worth a hill of beans. I can handle this.”

“You have your own job to do, Tilly!” my mother shouted as her friend made her way to the door. “Who’s going to prep the rest of the food?”

“Magnolia can do it,” Tilly said with a mischievous grin. “She’s done it before. It’s like falling off a bike.”

“Uh . . .” I said, nibbling on my bottom lip. “I think that’s riding a bike.”

She winked. “That too.” Then, like the smart woman she was, she ran.

I spun around to face my irate mother.

“Don’t just stand there! Get started,” Momma barked. Then she continued to yell at me for the next half hour.

Tilly was right. I’d worked plenty of parties for my mother in the past, and it all came back quickly. The only difference was that this one was a lot bigger than all the others.

I was preparing a platter of fruit for the chocolate fountain when Luke’s assistant bustled into the room, looking frazzled.

She scanned the room until her eyes landed on me. “Magnolia, right?”

My heart stuttered, and I cast a quick glance at my mother before I answered. “Yes?” She must have heard about my encounter with Max Goodwin. Was she here to kick me out? Humiliate me?

“Luke would like to meet you. If you’ll come with me.” She gestured toward the door.

I looked at my mother again, but she waved her hand in a casual dismissal. My stomach twisted into knots as I followed Amy, who set a quick pace through the dining room, the clicking of her heels drowned out by the party crowd. We stopped at a door leading to a private pool deck separated from the public area by a billowing white curtain. Two stereotypical security men stood at the door to the deck, but they let Amy and me pass with a nod.

Twinkle lights hung from the ten-foot ceiling, making the curtains glow. The sun had set, but the gas heater burning behind him diminished the chill of the night air. Luke sat on a stool at a high-top table in the back corner, surrounded by a group of people, including several women who seemed to be hanging on his every word. I could see why he was out here, despite the fact that he’d missed the majority of his own party. It was quieter and less chaotic than it was inside. Besides, it was a power move for a country star to miss his own ten-thousand-dollar party.

“Luke,” Amy said, walking right up to him and interrupting the group. “This is the woman I told you about.”

His eyes lit up as he turned his attention to me. “Luke Powell, pleased to meet you,” he said, extending his hand. “Amy says you’re Magnolia. Magnolia what?”

I straightened my shoulders and shook his hand. “Magnolia Steele.”

A knowing grin spread across his face. “You don’t say.”

I offered my best
I don’t give a shit what you think about me
smile.