Page 23 of Every Step She Takes
As dinner got under way, I ducked into the house to prepare for our performance. Tiana, Jamison and I were going to surprise their parents with an after-dinner anniversary musical tribute. Of course, it wasn’t really a surprise to Colt, but I was sure he could fake it, being an actor and all.
While the kids ate, I snuck the instruments out behind the hedge. Then, as Isabella and Colt dined on the beach with their guests, we came out playing. We started with the theme song toMi Hermana, and then the theme forFatal Retributionand, finally, the theme forThe President’s Wife, the movie where they’d met. Tiana played her sax, Jamison his violin and I had my viola, and we serenaded the celebrating couple with songs from their past.
As we focused on Isabella, drawing closer to her, Colt slipped off. We swung into “Belle” fromBeauty and the Beast, and Isabella clapped and turned to Colt… only to see his spot empty. Then he appeared from behind the boathouse, joining in with a guitar.
“She’s going to cry,” Tiana had said earlier, and Isabella did.
When we finished, she came to embrace the kids, and I slipped off to grab dinner, leaving them to their family moment.
I came back when Isabella brought out her flute, and we played impromptu tunes while the guests danced. Then Isabella pulled in Justice Kane, who took vocals. Guests danced on the beach, and champagne flowed. I had half a glass before Tiana backed into me, and I spilled it on my viola.
I excused myself, and I was hurrying inside to get a rag when Karla – Colt and Isabella’s manager – appeared, towel in hand.
“Colt’s right,” I said as I took it and wiped down my instrument. “You really are a fairy godmother.”
She chuckled. “No, I’m just not much of a party person, so I look for any opportunity to be useful. I’ve offered to serve drinks, but Isabella refuses.”
Her eyes glittered with an almost self-deprecating amusement that was a far cry from the ultra-efficient woman I’d come to know. Karla stopped by regularly, usually following a summons from Colt. He’d have some minor emergency, and she’d need to race up from New York, where she was staying while they vacationed. She was indeed their fairy godmother, and judging by her tailored clothing and tasteful jewelry, they compensated her well for it, as they should.
We chatted for a few minutes, a lighter conversation than usual. She usually only talked about my job, making sure I was comfortable and happy, and I suspected, if I’d said I wasn’t, she’d have waved her wand to fix that.
Karla wasn’t exactly warm – at our first meeting, she intimidated the hell out of me – but she had a deep streak of compassion I’d come to appreciate. Between Karla and Isabella, I’d discovered two models of successful women to emulate, capable and caring in very different ways, proof that you didn’t need to be a stone-cold bitch to succeed… and proof youcouldbe a stone-cold bitch if the situation required it.
“I believe someone is waiting for you,” Karla said, her eyes twinkling as she nodded toward the pool.
I looked over to see Justice with two filled champagne flutes in hand. He lifted one and smiled. I excused myself and walked over.
“To a successful concert,” he said as he passed one flute to me.
I thanked him and took a sip. Then I glanced toward the beach.
“The music’s done,” he said. “Apparently, everyone’s going swimming.”
A splash echoed in the background.
“Right on cue,” he said. “You’ve got a suit, I’m guessing?”
“Already wearing it.”
He lifted a brow and looked at my dress.
“Underneath,” I said.
“Good plan. I forgot mine. I’m hoping if I swim in the ocean, no one will notice I’m wearing my boxers.”
I laughed softly. “Also a good plan.”
He extended his elbow. “Will you join me? I hear you’re at Juilliard, and I’m dying to pester you with questions. I figured I’d throw in a champagne walk on the beach to make it worth your while.”
I nodded dumbly and took his elbow, and as we passed Isabella, she tossed me a wink. I was glad for the darkness as my cheeks flamed.
“Did Isabella tell you that I tried to get into Juilliard?” he said as we wound our way through abandoned picnic blankets. “Twice. Didn’t make the cut.”
“And now look at you,” I said with what I hoped wasn’t a nervous laugh.
Justice grinned. “Well, that’s what I say when I mention it in interviews.Hey, kids, I couldn’t get in to a fancy music program, either, and look where I am. It makes a nice feel-good story, as my publicist would say, but the truth…” He shrugged and sipped his champagne. “There’s a huge difference between being a talented classically trained musician and a guy who can strum a few chords. I grew up being told what an incredible musician I was, which I thought must be natural talent, since I never practiced.” Another quick grin my way. “But the truth is that I was a cute guy with a guitar. Of course the girls voted for me in the talent show every year.”
I was about to say the expected thing – that I was sure it was talent that won him those accolades – but I’d sipped more champagne than I intended, and I heard myself say, “Nobody likes to practice.”
