Page 87 of The Homewreckers
“Mhmm,” she said. “Never happens in real life.”
According to Mo’s research, Jada Watkins’s great legs were her claim to fame. They were loooong and shapely, and exquisitely displayed beneath a very short, school bus–yellow sleeveless dress that seemed to be made out of a single piece of bandage material.
TheHeadline Hollywoodstar had a mane of glossy auburn hair and she had dark, almond-shaped eyes, a pronounced, beakish nose, and a generous mouth. He gave her a brief rundown of theHomewreckerspremise before she moved on to the main attraction.
“You two,” she exclaimed, taking Hattie and Trae’s hands in hers. “I hear you’re the toast of Savannah! And I can’t wait to hear all about the house, and of course, the missing woman angle.”
Hattie seemed shy and ill at ease with Jada. She was wearing a kind of Rosie the Riveter getup, zipped low enough in front to expose some interesting cleavage, with a scarf worn as a belt. She somehow managed to look sexy and wholesome at the same time.
Trae was Trae, and he wasted no time sucking up to Jada Watkins. Maybe he was looking to cast her in his fantasy rom-com?
He had to admit that Jada seemed genuinely interested in the project, teetering around the house on backless spiked heels that made a clattering sound on the old wooden floors as she followed in Hattie’s wake.
Hattie’s jaw muscles ached from smiling. She’d been a dutiful television personality for close to two long hours, twinkling and laughing and chatting during take after take after take for Alex, theHeadline Hollywoodproducer, and his star.
But now, the sparkle had definitely worn off, and she couldn’t wait until the ordeal was over. After leading a tour of the house and discussing all the changes she and Trae had planned, they’d ended up in the kitchen, where the fire restoration team had wrought overnight miracles, sanding down the floors, scrubbing the worst of the soot from the walls, and making room for the camera crew.
Hattie gave a capsule synopsis of the wallet-in-the wall discovery, and what it meant.
“Lanier Ragan was a beloved and respected educator in Savannah, and I felt her loss personally, because she was my favorite teacher. More importantly, she was a wife and the mother of a young daughter, Emma, who has been waiting for seventeen years for answers to her mother’s disappearance.”
Jada’s animated face grew solemn. “Hattie, how do you think this perplexing mystery will be resolved? WhereisLanier Ragan?”
“I don’t know,” Hattie said. “But I don’t think she would have voluntarily gone off and left her daughter behind.”
“Cut!” Alex called. “That was perfect, Hattie. Now, one more interview question with you and Trae, and we’re done here. I want you guys back out on the porch, okay?”
Hattie glanced at her watch. It was nearly noon, and she’d already lost a precious half day of work. But Mo, who was standing just behind Alex, gave her a subtle nod.
“Okay,” Hattie said.
Alex directed her to sit in a rocking chair beside Trae, with Jada’s chair facing them.
“Now, you two,” Jada said, leaning forward and speaking in a hushed, conspiratorial tone. “I want to ask you about those photos we all saw burning up the internet this week—from the looks of it, you’d just shared a cozy, intimate dinner. So what about these rumors of an on-set romance?”
Trae gave Hattie a knowing, sideways glance. “All I can tell you, Jada, is that Hattie and I have developed an amazingly close working relationship these past few weeks. I mean, who wouldn’t fall for someone like Hattie Kavanaugh? She’s adorable and hardworking—and I never have to wonder what she’s thinking, because she’s not shy about telling me!”
“Aww,” Jada cooed. “Hattie? What’s it like, working with a heartthrob like Trae Bartholomew?”
Hattie felt her cheeks burn with embarrassment as she struggled to regain her composure.
“It’s great,” she managed. “But right now, I’m really focused onHomewreckers,and on working on this house. So I’m afraid matters of the heart are going to have to take a back seat until we reach the finish line.”
“Hmm,” Jada quipped, “I guess we’ll just have to wait ’tilHomewreckerspremieres in September to see if those sparks can last.”
“And cut,” Alex said. “Great line, Jada. Great work, everybody.”
Cass found her in the wardrobe trailer, peeling out of the jumpsuit. “Is the coast clear? Have the bad people gone?”
“Finally,” Hattie said, pulling on her own jeans and a T-shirt. “What’s going on out there? Why is everything so quiet?”
“The restoration guys are on break. You saw the truck got there to haul off the old dumpster, right? We knew it would make a hell of a racket during your shoot, so Mo bribed the driver with breakfast burritos.”
Hattie finished lacing up her work boots. “Well, let’s get our people back to work. We need that new dumpster. I don’t want them dumping all that burnt siding on the ground. We’ve got enough of a mess as it is.”
As they walked around to the rear of the driveway they heard the rumble of a diesel engine. Mo stood to one side of the drive, directing the truck driver as he backed his trailer down the sloping drive toward the ruined dumpster.
Hattie found herself watching Mo, intrigued. As uncomfortable as he’d been during his brief stint in Jada’s interview, he was in his element here, juggling all the moving parts of a complicated production, with the assurance that came from a man who was totally comfortable in his own skin. Not cocky, she thought, confident.
