Chapter 8: Chapter 8

The limo slowed for a traffic light, and Trent wished he could see out the tinted window better. He thought they were almost to the location of the awards ceremony, a theater in the main part of downtown Nashville, but it was hard to tell with his limited vantage point.

Next to him, Celia was chattering nervously. She hadn’t stopped talking since she’d gotten into the car, almost a half hour ago. She looked stunning in a long red and silver gown with her hair pulled up in a clip on the back of her head. He hadn’t thought her short hair was long enough for an updo, but clearly it was, and she looked even more elegant than usual. But the fact that she wouldn’t stop talking was beginning to wear on him. Trent was nervous enough about having to stand up in front of a room full of his peers and give a speech; her inability to quiet herself wasn’t giving him even a moment to attempt to take some deep breaths and calm down.

“I’m sorry I keep rambling on,” Celia finally said, causing his head to turn in her direction for the first time in several miles. “I do that when I’m anxious or excited.”

“It’s okay,” Trent lied. He hoped that meant she’d rein it in, but the reprieve only lasted a few seconds before she was off to the races again, telling him a story about a different award her company had been up for the year before and how she hadn’t been invited to attend the event.

Trent had heard that story before, but he nodded politely and inserted the appropriate, “Uh huhs,” and “you don’t says,” whenever they fit, his eyes still glued to the darkened window for the most part. Eventually, he realized where they were and didn’t know if he should be glad that the ride was nearly over, and he could get out soon, freeing himself from Celia’s storytelling, or terrified about what would come next.

It wouldn’t matter how he reacted to the situation; it was unfolding just the same. The limo pulled to a stop, and a valet opened the door for him. He got out and then offered his hand to Celia. She took it and then looped her arm through his. The contact made Trent more than a little uncomfortable, but it was to be expected that he would escort his date into the theater, even if they weren’t a couple.

It wasn’t exactly a Hollywood moment. There were no snapping photographers outside, no one shouting his name. While he was glad that was the case, he did realize he would likely be in a similar situation in a year or two, though it would be Bree’s name everyone would be shouting. She was sure to be a big-time singer in the near future. Then, he would proudly escort her to award ceremonies where she’d finally get the credit she deserved. For now, he was glad to make his way into the theater without anyone shouting or snapping pictures.

Once inside, the situation changed. There were photographers for the city in the foyer, and since his company was receiving the biggest award of the night, it seemed everyone’s attention was immediately on him. He was greeted by a representative from the award committee and ushered inside of the ballroom where hundreds of guests were congregated.

Trent took a look around, hearing Celia gasp at how lovely the decor was. Round tables were set up near the stage, the centerpieces consisted of large red flowers and some sort of golden spires Trent wouldn’t have had a name for if his life depended upon it. The rest of the room was decorated in red and gold as well, including two large pieces on either side of the stage that mimicked the table centerpieces, though they were much more elaborate with many more flowers and large, shimmery gold pieces intertwined among them.

Most of the guests were mingling in the back third of the room, away from the tables, champagne flutes in hand. Everyone was dressed to the nines in evening gowns and suits. Trent recognized several other Nashville entrepreneurs, men and women he’d read about in magazines or met at luncheons. He hadn’t joined any of the high society clubs since he hadn’t been in town long and had spent most of the time he was there taking care of Bree, but he was still familiar with the vast majority of the city’s upper echelon of wealth and power. Many of them were in the room now.

“My goodness!” Celia said, leaning toward his ear. “There’s Grant Houston. And Maria Cantelli!” She had one hand over her mouth so no one could see who she was whispering about. “And look--Anthony Meriwether!”

Trent knew who all of those people were and why it was such a thrill for Celia to see them in person, but he wasn’t quite as starstruck as she was. As people noticed them and came over to greet them, Trent began to relax a bit. It helped when Celia unwound her arm from his, and he could shove his hands down into his pockets. He took deep breaths and reminded himself it would all be over soon.

And then he saw a familiar face across the room and every ounce of oxygen was expelled from his lungs. “What the….” Trent muttered, catching himself and stopping the sentence before anyone heard.

Celia had caught it, but she was the only one. Her eyebrows knit together as she studied him. “Is everything okay?”

Shaking his head, Trent tried not to curse. “Yes. Fine. Just… someone I was hoping to never see again is here.”

Celia’s eyes flew over the crowd as she tried to puzzle it all together. “Who?” she finally asked, lost.

Taking a flute of champagne from a passing tray, Trent downed it, only realizing after it was gone that it would’ve been more polite to get the lady a drink as well. Now, his mind was really messing with him. He needed to get some air before he completely lost control of himself.

“Trent, what is the matter?” Celia asked, her fake smile full of concern. “What is it?”

His eyes went back across the room to the face he hadn’t wanted to see. She was looking at him now, though, that evil smile pulling her lips apart. She’d done this on purpose. She probably wasn’t even supposed to be here and only found a way to meddle her way in when she found out he’d be receiving an award. “My ex-fiancée is here,” he whispered to Celia, pulling his eyes away from Monica’s beautiful, horrid face.

“Oh.” Celia’s eyes went up again, searching, but she still had no idea who Trent was talking about, and he wasn't about to point her out. “I’m sorry. Where?”

“It doesn’t matter,” Trent said, the shock subsiding as he finally regained control of himself. “She doesn’t matter.”

“Okay,” Celia said, but he could tell she didn’t believe him. Clearly, Monica still had an effect on him or else he would be able to fully fill his lungs right now. “Do you want another drink?”

Realizing his glass was empty, Trent said, “Absolutely,” and took Celia’s arm, leading her to the closest drink tray. It was going to be a long night, and he had a feeling he’d be knocking back more drinks than he had in a long time. Especially if Monica found a way to come and talk to him. Interacting with her was the last thing on earth he wanted to do.

A waiter with a tray was making his way through what was quickly becoming a congested room. Trent let go of Celia’s arm to pluck each of them a drink off of the tray. She’d just raised the glass to her lips when she made a squealing noise and started wildly gesturing across the room. “That’s my friend Hannah--from my old firm!” she declared, pulling on his arm with her free hand. “You have to meet her!”

Since the redhead was on the opposite side of the room from where he’d seen Monica standing, Trent agreed that it was a good idea. By the time they reached her, Hannah was also squealing, and the two women hugged each other as if they hadn’t seen each other in years, talking a million miles a minute as they attempted to catch up. Trent was slightly amused; he couldn’t remember ever seeing Celia act so much like a high schooler, but it was kind of nice to see her break away from the no-nonsense persona she carried with her in the office.

Listening to the conversation, he learned that Hannah was there with her boyfriend, Frank, who was accepting an award for his new dental practice. He didn’t have much to say, which immediately made Trent like the guy. At the moment, he could handle awkwardly standing next to Celia without the demands of conversation so long as it meant he didn’t have to think about the fact that Monica was there. He was still trying to figure out how she’d come to be at the ceremony when the MC called for their attention.

“Good evening, ladies and gentlemen. We’ll begin the ceremony in approximately five minutes, so now would be a good time to begin making your way to your assigned tables.” The MC was a robust man with gray hair, dressed in an expensive suit, with the sort of voice one would expect to hear in a movie trailer.

“I guess that means we should take our seats,” Celia said, waving goodbye to her friend.

“I guess so.” Trent glanced around the room, seeing that Monica was still on the other side. He hoped it would stay that way, but as he and Celia began to look for their seats, he realized Monica was getting closer and closer to them. When he finally saw his name on a table in the middle of the room, near the stage, he gasped in horror when he realized that Monica and her date were also seated there. Cursing under his breath, Trent put on a brave face and pulled out Celia’s chair for her. Monica would be seated directly across from him, once she realized that was her table, too.

“Oh. Great,” Monica said, stopping behind the chair situated in front of her name plate. “We’re at the same table.”

“What’s that, darling?” The man she was with, a man who appeared old enough to be her father, leaned in closely so that he could hear her. He was dressed in an expensive Armani suit and looked quite distinguished, though Trent didn’t recognize him.

“Nothing, George. Here we are,” Monica said, pulling out her own chair. George realized his faux pas and gestured for her to let him, but by then Monica had already slunk into the seat, smoothing her red, sparkly evening gown as she sat. George pushed her chair in and then took the seat next to her, four other people filling in the rest of the table. Trent knew none of them but imagined at least half the people at that table were receiving awards similar to the one he was getting that evening.

The other couples who were sitting with them seemed to know one another well enough to make small talk while they waited for everyone else to be seated. Dinner was served, but Trent had no appetite for the expensive seafood set before him. Monica didn’t seem to either. She picked at her linguini with clam sauce and the other dishes they were brought, only taking a few small bites. At least she didn’t attempt to talk to him. As far as the others at the table knew, they were strangers. He wanted to keep it that way.

It wasn’t until the awards ceremony was underway that Trent realized the man Monica was with was a photographer, George Ralsten. He had seen his work in several magazines and newspapers, including the spread about this event in the local newspaper a few days before. He had to assume Monica had met him at the modeling agency. While they didn’t seem to be a couple, George was paying quite a bit of attention to Monica, and it was clear he was enamored with the beautiful, younger woman.

It wouldn’t surprise Trent at all if Monica was only there because George had money. She was a leach, after all, and would take advantage of any man who looked at her sideways if it meant it would better her career or put more pretty dresses in her closet.

Trent knew that wasn’t all true. Monica had fallen in love with him before he was rich. Just because she had cheated on him with his best friend, it wasn’t fair to assume she was also a gold digger. But he did know how much her career meant to her and assumed she’d do whatever she could to make a name for herself in the modeling world. If that meant sleeping with a famous photographer, then he wouldn’t put it past her.

George received his award before Trent. The MC introduced last year’s winner of Nashville’s Photographer of the Year, and a small woman with bright red hair came out and spoke a few words about George before the older man went up on stage to receive his award. He spoke briefly, thanking everyone for the honor, recognized his date, “The beautiful and talented Monica Edge,” and then went backstage to become the subject of a few photographs, leaving Monica by herself.

When the MC announced they’d take a small intermission before presenting the rest of the awards, Trent felt his heart sink in his chest. With George away, it would leave Monica with nothing better to do than start a conversation with him. He prayed she’d continue to pretend they didn’t know each other, but it didn’t take long at all before she was looking right at him.

“I’m surprised your fiancée isn’t here,” she said, looking from Trent to Celia and then back again. “Did the two of you have a falling out?”

Her tone was a forced form of pleasant that no one other than Trent would’ve been able to pick up on. To everyone else, it would’ve seemed like a casual, though prying, question. “No, we didn’t break up,” Trent replied, trying to infuse his voice with cheer, though he knew it also sounded as fake as Monica’s eyelashes. “She had a show tonight.”

“Oh. That’s odd.” Monica shrugged and took a sip of her wine.

“What’s that?” Trent asked, though he regretted it the second it was out of his mouth. He knew better. He should’ve just let the comment go.

“It’s nothing. I just… well, you seem to appreciate a woman who puts you before her career, so I’m shocked you’re willing to put up with that.”

Trent wasn’t sure what to say. The audacity Monica was showing in bringing up their personal history in front of a table full of people, most of which were strangers to both of them, was unbelievable. The fact that what she was saying wasn’t true at all made a ball of rage well up inside of him. He’d been willing to move halfway across the country, or even to France, if that’s what it took for her to get her modeling career off the ground. If she wanted to air dirty laundry, he had plenty of embarrassing accusations he could make against her as well. The only difference was, his would be true.

Before Trent could work out the best way to respond, Celia asked, “Wait a minute--do the two of you know each other?”

“I guess you could say that,” Monica said, her eyes narrowed. “I thought we knew each other.”

“Oh, I see,” Celia said, her head nodding. “This is that poor girl you mentioned to me earlier,” she said, leaning in close to Trent, as if she were attempting to whisper, even though she wasn’t. “The one who made so many unfortunate decisions and ended up ruining her life. What a pity. She’s so pretty.”

Monica’s mouth dropped open, her face immediately turning red, not so much from embarrassment as from rage, Trent supposed. It was enough to make him forget he was angry at her for the comments she’d made as he did his best to hide his laughter.

“What?” Monica spat. “Well, I never!”

“It’s all right. I don’t blame you for being upset. Trent is engaged to a beautiful, successful musician, and you’re obviously still struggling to get your life in order. It’s understandable that you would lash out irrationally at him. At least your date for tonight is successful. Perhaps some of his winning ways will rub off on you, and you’ll get your life sorted out.”

Celia was on a roll, and it was all Trent could do to keep from bursting out in laughter. The other people at the table sat slack jawed, their expressions shouting that they wished they weren’t witnessing the exchange, but there was no place for any of them to go save the restroom, and since the ceremony was about to start again and none of them had received their awards yet, they couldn’t run off.

Thankfully, Monica could. “I don’t know who your new little tart is, Trent, but she’s a bitch!” Monica said, pushing back from the table. She grabbed her handbag and stormed off in the direction of the lobby where the restrooms were located, just as the MC was coming back to the microphone to get the rest of the show underway.

“That was awkward,” Celia whispered, a devilish grin on her face.

Trent shook his head slowly. “That was brilliant,” he said, so glad he’d brought Celia with him. If it had been Bree, Monica likely would’ve hurt her feelings and made her cry. Bree was so fragile right now, after all she’d been through, he wasn’t sure she could stand up for herself at the moment. But Celia had put Monica in her place in a way few people could do. Once again, he was so proud of Celia, he couldn’t have even put it into words.