Chapter 10: Chapter 10

“The winner of the New Entrepreneur of the Year award is… Trent Walker of Walker Accounting Services!”

Applause rang out across the room at the MCs words. Trent stood and buttoned his jacket, making his way the few steps to the podium, imagining the clapping was as much for the fact that his award was the last one of the evening, and everyone would be able to get the hell out of there as soon as he finished speaking, as it was for him. He didn’t plan to talk for long.

A beautiful woman in an evening gown handed him the trophy. It was heftier than it looked, which took him by surprise. The figure was a man and a woman in business attire standing atop a pillar, all done in gold, and the bottom placard was inscribed with the name of the award, his name, his firm’s name, and the year. It really was an honor to receive it, even if he didn’t like this sort of an event and certainly didn’t like having to speak in front of crowds.

“Thank you,” Trent said to the woman, who smiled broadly and patted his arm, her fingers lingering a little longer than necessary on his bicep. He shook the MC’s offered hand and then turned to the podium. The lights obscured much of the crowd, but he knew they were there. Remembering what Bree had told him about singling out one person to talk to until he felt comfortable shifting his gaze to someone else, he took a deep breath. He used a similar tactic when he was presenting in front of large groups, either at meetings to explain his services or when other accounting associations had asked him to speak, but this was different. This room was full of people from all walks of life, not just his fellow numbers people, and the idea that he could say something stupid and embarrass himself was an ever present threat in the forefront of his mind.

When he looked out at the crowd, it was easy to spot Celia’s smiling face so near the stage. So, deciding it was just as well that he speak directly to her, at least to begin with, he pulled his index cards out of the inside pocket of his jacket and began to recite the speech he’d prepared.

“Thank you all so very much for this honor,” Trent began, clearing his throat. The microphone was slightly too short for him, but he didn’t dare attempt to adjust it for fear he’d break it. “In a room full of successful, hardworking individuals and firms, being singled out for such an award is beyond words.” He continued with the speech he’d labored over for hours since he’d found out he’d have to give one, taking his time to thank Celia by name and other individuals that worked for his firm. He thanked Bree, too, even though she wasn’t there. The applause at the mention of her name let him know others in the room were aware of Bree Matthews, the famous singer who’d gone through so much. Finally, he sang the praises of the beautiful city who’d so quickly accepted them as one of their own and said he understood why so many people loved Nashville. “While it may look like a big city on the map, Nashville is a small town at heart, the sort of place that makes everyone feel welcome. Thank you all very much,” he said, raising the statue, so glad to be done with the speech. He put the cards back into his pocket and nodded with gratitude one more time before following the lady in the gown off of the stage, breathing a sigh of relief that the hard part was over.

At least, he hoped that was the hard part.

Back stage, the official photographer of the event was finishing up, taking photographs of the winner who’d received her award right before Trent’s name was called. He heard the MC thank everyone for coming and absently wondered if Celia would be allowed to come back here with him. He hoped she would. Otherwise, she might get bored. Or she might go find Monica and end up in a cat fight….

The photographer was a woman who appeared to be a little older than him, with long dark hair. She looked bored as she asked the woman in front of him to shift her pose, but once she was done with the previous winner and turned her attention to him, her expression changed, and she perked up. “Well, hello there,” she said. “Right this way, Mr. Walker.”

Trent raised an eyebrow and followed her instructions, wondering how she knew his name. Perhaps she had a list of winners or another guide she was following. Once he was standing where she’d directed him, she gave him some other instructions on how to hold the trophy. “That’s perfect,” she said, looking through the lens of her camera where it sat on a tripod in front of her. “You’re a natural. Have you ever done any modeling?”

Trying not to laugh, Trent waited until she’d snapped the photo to say, “Uh, no.” The question was ironic. He’d been far too close to the modeling world once before, but he’d never been a part of it. He was ready to put that part of his life far, far behind him.

“Well, you should consider it,” she said, snapping a few more pictures. “With a face so photogenic and a physique like that, you would be very popular.”

Not knowing how to respond to that without sounding like a jerk, Trent focused on letting her take the pictures, wishing she’d hurry and finish so he could go. Eventually, she seemed satisfied that she’d gotten enough good shots. “All right, Mr. Walker. All done,” she said, lowering her camera. “Can you hold on just a sec before you head out, though?”

Raising an eyebrow, Trent said, “Sure,” wondering what in the world she was up to.

The photographer stepped over to a small table where her camera bag and other equipment was sitting. She set the camera down and plucked something else out of her bag. “Here’s my card,” she said, her fingertips brushing his as he automatically reached out to take it. “Call me if you ever need a photographer, or if you’re interested in doing any sort of modeling work. I have connections.” She winked at him in a way that made him wish men wore engagement bands.

“Thanks,” Trent said, wishing he could have found a polite way to decline the card, but since there was no way he could do that now, he put it in the inside pocket of his jacket and stepped over to the director of the program who was waiting for him, alongside a few people who appeared to be reporters. He imagined they’d want to ask him a few questions about how he felt receiving the reward for local newspapers and online columns.

Trent glanced around again. A sigh of relief escaped his lips when he saw Celia standing in the corner of the room near the exit. She gave him a little wave, and he lifted the statue at her, which got a giggle out of her. In the future, given the choice, he would let her accept the award, and he would go with Bree. This entire event had been torturous, and he had a feeling it wasn’t over yet.

Celia waited for him as the reporters peppered him with questions. It didn’t take more than five or ten minutes, but it seemed much longer than that when all he wanted to do was get out of there. Eventually, the reporters finished, the director thanked him for his time, and Trent was free at last.

Keeping his haste in check, Trent made his way over to Celia. “Well… how was that?” she asked, the grin on her face letting him know she already knew the answer to that question.

“Best half hour of my life.” The sarcastic remark rolled off of his tongue.

Snickering, Celia turned, slipping her arm through his. “For some reason, I don’t believe that.”

“I don’t know why,” he said with a shrug. Unable to hide his uncomfortable state anymore, Trent said, “Let’s get out of here.”

“Ah… but I hear people are standing around in the lobby chatting and drinking cocktails. Don’t you wanna hang out with the cool kids for a while?”

He could tell she was joking, but he was no longer in the mood to play along with it. “Not even a little bit,” he said. She was right about people standing around chatting and drinking. As soon as they walked through the doors that led to the lobby, it became apparent most of the attendees were not ready to leave the event already. Considering he didn’t know very many of these people at all, and didn’t care to speak to the person he did know, Trent didn’t slow on his way to the door.

Until Monica stepped in front of him.

Her arms were folded beneath her chest, and he could tell she was purposely pushing her cleavage out, leaning forward to accent a chest she had always been overly proud of. Her lips were set in that pout that let him know she was about to tear into him, even though they were in public, and she no longer had a right to speak to him any way she wanted to--not that she ever had had that right, but that hadn’t stopped her in the past when she’d been angry.

“Trent, may I have a word with you?” she barked, her voice low.

Scanning the room, he didn’t see her date. “Where’s… what’s his name?”

Monica didn’t answer his question. “Listen, if you and I are going to live in the same city, and run in the same circles, chances are, we are going to run into one another from time to time. We have to find a way to keep it civil.”

He raised an eyebrow at her. She was trying to draw him into an argument, to make him raise his voice and look like the bad guy. He wasn’t going to fall for it, though. At least, he hoped he wouldn’t. Squeezing Celia’s arm slightly so that perhaps she’d get the idea that he didn’t want to cause a scene, he said, “Okay.”

“Okay?” Monica echoed, her voice louder and shriller than before. “That’s all you’re going to say?”

Trent shrugged. “What else is there to say? I don’t want to argue with you, Monica.”

“Well, you did earlier. Or at least… your friend did.” She eyed Celia harshly, making it apparent that, if she couldn’t draw Trent into an argument, she’d try his date.

He felt Celia’s body stiffen next to him. A glance in her direction revealed narrow eyes. She reminded him of a cobra, coiling to strike. He couldn’t let that happen. “Celia understands the situation, Monica, and I assure you, she doesn’t want any trouble either.” He hoped his associate didn’t mind him speaking for her, but something told him, if he gave her the opportunity to open her mouth, the venom that spewed out would quickly have every eye in the room on them.

Monica wasn’t budging, not yet. Her eyes shifted from Trent’s face to Celia’s, as if she were waiting for an apology. That wasn’t going to come. Celia’s disposition made it very clear that she wasn’t feeling sorry for anything she’d said. “If you’ll excuse us, Monica, we need to be going.”

The model didn’t step aside, so Trent steered himself and Celia around her. He could tell she wanted to say something more but couldn’t find the words. Placing Monica into a situation where she was rendered speechless was a rarity. Trent rushed toward the door in an attempt to take advantage of the situation.

As soon as they were outside, he breathed in the fresh air, hurrying to call the car before Monica regained her bearings and followed after them. At least, if she did that, there wouldn’t be so many witnesses out here, only a handful of other couples waiting for their cars. He’d rather not encounter an angry Monica at all, but if he had to argue with her, at least outside it wouldn’t be quite as embarrassing.

“The audacity of that woman,” Celia said, letting go of Trent’s arm and placing her hands on her narrow hips. “Where does she get off?”

“That’s Monica,” Trent admitted. “When I first met her, I thought it was refreshing that she stood up for herself. Now, I realize she isn’t always in the right, and it’s beyond annoying, especially when her anger boils over in a crowded room.”

“Have you talked to Bree? Does she know she was here?”

“No,” Trent said, thankful that he saw the car pulling up. He reached for Celia’s arm, thinking he should be a gentleman and lead her to the vehicle. Rather than looping her arm through, she slipped her hand into his. It was an odd sensation, holding hands with someone other than Bree, and he didn’t like it, but he knew Celia was upset on his behalf, and he didn’t want to be rude. “It didn’t seem like the sort of news I should share with her while she’s performing.” He imagined she was actually done now, but he didn’t know for sure. It wasn’t as if he’d had a chance to call her yet anyway.

They slid into the limo, and the driver closed the door. Trent set the trophy down on the seat, tired of carrying it around, and Celia huffed before she clicked on her seatbelt and folded her arms. “She’ll be pissed, won’t she?” Celia asked.

It took Trent a moment to realize she meant Bree--that his fiancée would be pissed to find out that his ex had attended the awards ceremony, and there’d been an interaction. “Yeah, probably.” He didn’t want to think about it. In fact, he’d toyed with the idea of not telling her at all. But he knew he shouldn’t do that.

“That woman is… awful!” Celia said, clearly still worked up about Monica’s attitude. “I don’t understand how someone as kind as you could ever be engaged to her to begin with.”

It was a thought he’d entertained many times over the last several months since he’d called off the wedding. “It’s… complicated.” That was the best he could do.

His response wasn’t good enough for Celia. “Well, unless she’s just become a horribly bitter woman since you left her ass, I can’t imagine she was ever good enough for you.”

“No, I don’t think that’s it,” Trent began. “I mean… she’s not a horrible person. I know she seemed like it tonight.”

“Yeah, she did!” Celia spat. “Are you sure about that? Why did the two of you break up?”

“It’s a long story,” he replied dismissively.

“Do you have something else to talk about while we’re in this limo together for the next twenty minutes?” she asked, shifting around so that she was looking at him.

“No, I guess not,” he admitted. Trent took a deep breath. He’d spent much of the last several months trying to forget about Monica. Everything about his relationship with the model left a sour taste in his mouth. Celia was his friend, though, and she’d gone to a lot of trouble to be there with him on a night that ended up being uncomfortable for her, too. “We met in college. I’d just broken up with another girl. Over Bree.”

“You knew Bree in college?” Celia asked.

“I’ve known Bree since elementary school.” He was under the impression everyone knew that, but he guessed it was a little silly to assume everyone kept up with the backstories of popular country songs.

“Really?” Celia asked, slightly stunned. “I guess I didn’t realize.”

“Yeah. I had a crush on her in high school. But every time something almost happened, someone would ruin it.” He had realized after the situation with Monica that most of those happenings revolved around Hank, but that wasn’t pertinent to the story now. He wanted to keep his recap as short as possible. “So… my girlfriend before Monica was jealous of Bree. We saw her on a visit back home. I broke up with her, and Monica asked me out. Before long, we were engaged.”

“You must’ve loved her to ask her to marry you.”

“I did love her,” Trent agreed. He had loved Monica, but in a different way than the way he felt about Bree. He wasn’t about to go into all of that at the moment either. “But I didn’t ask her to marry me.” That was also complicated. “We sort of just went ring shopping.”

“Seriously? That woman is… a manipulating bitch!” Celia sounded personally wounded.

Her anger toward someone she’d just met almost made him laugh, but Trent stifled his chuckle. Why he thought anything was humorous at the moment, he couldn’t explain, but there was something about her fury that made him want to laugh. “Anyway, the day before the wedding, Bree told me that my best man had shown her some pictures of himself with Monica, pictures Bree swiped from him, so she could show me, too. When I confronted Monica, she said it had happened once a long time ago, but at the wedding, I realized she had her engagement ring on in the pictures, so it couldn’t have been that long ago. So… I walked out. And I went to Bree, and I knew immediately she had been right when she wrote the song. We were meant to be together.”

Celia listened to him spew the story in a quick, tense voice, her eyes widening several times, her mouth dropping open when she heard how he’d figured it all out and walked away. “Wow!” she finally said. “That took some balls.”

That was all she said, which left him confused. “What took some balls?”

“All of it. Your best man slept with her? She slept with him? Bree stole the pictures and told you? And you left her at the altar? All of that. But then, the fact that Bree sang a song she wrote for you about marrying you at your wedding to someone else… well, that’s probably the ballsiest thing I’ve ever heard.”

Nodding, Trent said, “I have to agree with you there. She definitely knew what she had to do and followed through with it.”

Celia’s head rocked back and forth a few times as she turned back around, staring ahead blankly, though he could see her eyes moving as she thought through all he’d revealed. Eventually, she made a low humming noise and said, “What about him?”

“What about who?” Trent asked, his mind already slipping to other things.

“The best man. What did you do to him?”

“Nothing,” Trent said with a shrug. “I didn’t do anything to him.”

“Why not? He slept with your fiancée.”

“I know, but Hank had been my best friend since fifth grade. I couldn’t do anything to him.”

“He sure the hell didn’t have a problem doing something to you,” she pointed out. “You just let him get away with it?”

“I wouldn’t say that.” Trent shifted uncomfortably, ran a hand along his jaw. He was tired and just wanted to go home. They were almost to Celia’s neighborhood. “I haven’t really spoken to him since it happened, but he’s been suffering, too. He was in love with Monica before I even started dating her. If I had known, I never would’ve gone out with her to begin with. She wouldn’t date him seriously because he’s a personal trainer, and she didn’t think that was good enough for her. So… she just strung him along.”

“Sounds like you’re making excuses if you ask me,” she muttered. “I would’ve punched him in the face. And he would’ve deserved it.”

Trent couldn’t disagree that Hank had deserved to be punched in the face, but that just wasn’t his way. He shrugged and looked out the window. “I think… losing both of us was probably bad enough for him.”

“So she broke up with him, too?”

“Not at first but soon enough, yes.”

“Huh,” Celia said and went quiet again. The car was almost to her apartment building before she said anything else. “Well, Monica is a bitch. I’m glad someone stopped you from marrying her. You deserve so much better.”

“Thank you.” Trent reached over and put his hand on her arm, hoping she knew how much he meant the gratitude.

Her face flushed slightly, and he pulled his hand away. Surely, she hadn’t misinterpreted the action, had she?

“And if Bree ever does anything like that to you, I’ll cut her balls off.”

Trent’s eyebrows shot up as his mouth dropped open. He wasn’t sure if he should laugh, defend Bree’s innocence, or thank Celia. There wasn’t much time for any of those things. The driver pulled up to her building and stopped the car, and a moment later, her door was open.

Celia said, “Thanks so much for taking me, Trent. I had a good time, despite the bitch. Your speech was great.”

“Thank you, Celia,” Trent said, smiling at her. “I’m glad you were able to come.”

She leaned over and quickly pecked him on the cheek before darting out of the car.

The move was innocent enough, but as soon as Celia was gone and the door was closed, Trent’s hand flew to his cheek, swiping at the place where her warm lips had touched his flesh. He’d have to make sure there wasn’t any lipstick there so that Bree didn’t ask any questions. Not that he wouldn’t tell her the truth; she’d deserve that. But there was no reason for her to worry about Celia. None at all.

As the driver got back in the car, Trent weighed the idea of going to meet Bree. Her show was likely done by now. She might be going out with Christy or the band. Maybe both. He should join them.

But he wasn’t dressed for it. And he was tired. Instead, he let the car continue on its way to his apartment, hoping Bree had a great time, and she’d be home soon. He needed to see her, but he needed to have her to himself as well.