Tate (3 page)

You had a busy day today
 

I sang the words loudly as I walked out the door. I waited in my truck in the parking lot across the street where I could see her shop. I returned a few calls, and then I saw the lights go out inside. She came out, walked over to an SUV and got in. When she pulled away, I followed her, not close enough to alarm her. Finally, she turned into a driveway. I watched as she gathered her things and went inside.

I sat there a little longer, wondering what she was doing. I wanted to go knock on the door, but thought better of it. I left to drive around and see what was on that side of town. My townhouse was on the other side of Nashville. Finally, I headed home.

***

A week later, I returned to her shop.

“I’m not finished!” she barked as soon as she saw me. “I’ll call your assistant or Audra when I’m done!”

“Maisie! What on earth…” Dion came around the corner to see what she was snapping about.

“Oh,” he cooed. “Handsome cowboy is back.”

“Shut up, Dion. He was just leaving.” She was mad as hell and I could see it. It made me smile. I couldn’t help myself.

“But Maisie,” Dion said. “The suits and tux only need to be pressed.”

“I said that I’m not finished,” she replied curtly.

“I can wait while you press them,” I said, egging her on, and I saw Dion smile.

“I’m in the middle of something here. I told you I would call your assistant.” It appeared as though she was gritting her teeth to keep from exploding.

“I can press them. I finished what I was doing,” Dion said.

“I’ll wait right here. How’ve you been?” I asked as Dion walked away. She didn’t respond. She sat at the sewing machine diligently working on whatever the shiny blue fabric would be when she was done, ignoring me.

“Hello?”

“What do you want?” she asked as she dramatically pushed the fabric aside. She came from behind the sewing machine, crossed her arms across her chest in a steely manner, and leaned her butt against the edge of the sewing machine table.

“I told you.”

“Tell me again?” she suggested.

“I gotta figure out if you intrigue me or…”

“I piss you off. You’re pissing me off. We’re even, so go away.”

I laughed and it only made her madder. “You’re like a little stick of dynamite waiting to blow. Why are you so pissed at me? I just want to get to know you.”

“Mr. Morrow…”

“Tate,” I interrupted.

“Mr. Morrow, I have absolutely no interest in getting to know you, so please stop.”

“We can’t be nice and act like friends?” I nudged, barely able to keep the smirk from my face.

“It’s not funny!” she barked.

“I don’t think so either,” I said, and tried to act serious. She noticed the insincerity in my actions and was ready to bark something else when Dion returned with one of the suits.

“The steamer quit working. I’ll have to call the guy. You’ll have to come back.”

“Just great,” she mumbled. When she turned to go back to the sewing machine, Dion cast a wink my direction.

“See you soon.”

I
had
to know this woman. She intrigued the hell out of me, maybe because of her indifference, but mostly because I couldn’t stop thinking about her. She consumed my thoughts. I needed to know why she was so aloof, why just talking to her made her want to blow. I could tell it wasn’t sincere. She’d let too many little smiles and giggles bubble to the surface and then quickly tried to hide them. She was trying to keep up an act, trying to convince herself that she wasn’t interested; this was what she wanted me to think, but it only interested me more.

As I drove away, I made a call. “Daniel, it’s Tate. I need a favor…”

***

Three days later, I met with Daniel Costas, the head of my personal security, Costas Service Group, for coffee. “I appreciate you looking into this,” I said, and he nodded.

“She’s twenty-nine. A widow,” he began.

“Wait. Widow?” I butt in.

“Husband died about three years ago - horrific automobile accident. Eighteen-wheeler ran a red light. Report says ‘excessive speed,’ and ‘under the influence’. He plowed right into the driver’s side.”

“Damn.” Suddenly, I felt wrong about knowing this. Very wrong. I was prying.

“I called the officer who wrote the report - he’s an old buddy of mine from the academy. They found her on the floorboard on the passenger side, unconscious, big bruise on her head, but aside from that, not a scrape or a scratch on her. Husband died in the accident.”

“Kids?”

“No, they’d only been married about two years. He worked for a music promoter, and she’s been a seamstress for some big names in Nashville since she was in high school. Want me to dig deeper?”

“Oh, no. No. I don’t want to pry. This was kind of just to get the basic info. Wow,” I said a moment later. “No wonder she’s so guarded.”

I couldn’t get her story out of my head. It seeped deeper in my soul each time I thought about her, and I found myself thinking about her more and more. Something about her kept me from thinking about much of anything else. Four anxious days passed and finally, Deidre mentioned that my suit and tux were ready to pick up.

“I’ll go get it,” I told her.

“Are you sure? I’d be happy to take care of that,” she said. “It’s kind of my job.”

“I’ve got this. I’ve got an errand to run on the way, so I’ll take care of it.”

I stopped by a florist and picked up a cobalt blue glass vase filled with white carnations. The blue reminded me of her eyes. The florist told me that white carnations represent sweetness and loveliness.

She was alone when I arrived. “Are those for Dion?” she asked, looking up from whatever she was working on when she saw the flowers.

I laughed out loud at her comment. “He is kinda pretty for a boy, but I’m not his type.”

“You sure?” she asked.

“Pretty sure,” I said, and handed her the flowers. I leaned closer and whispered, “I like girls. These are a peace-offering for making you so mad last time I was here.”

“Your things are pressed and ready,” she said, ignoring my comment. “They’re hanging in that garment bag. Sorry it took so long. Not sure what was wrong with the steamer, but Dion said he fixed it.” She remained at the sewing machine, watching me.

“Listen,” I said. “It’s late, grab a quick bite to eat with me. Let me show you I’m a good guy.”

“Sure…”

“Great!” I shouted.

“No. No. No. Uh…” she stammered. “I meant ‘sure’ you’re a good guy, not ‘sure’ to dinner. I really can’t.”

“Yes. You can. Forty minutes, an hour tops. Look, I’m not going to take no for an answer. It’s just dinner, Maisie.”

“Just dinner,” she repeated, but I felt her hesitation. “Why?”

“How many times do I have to answer that question?” I said with a chuckle.

“I need an hour to finish up. I’ll meet you…”

“Nope. I’ll wait. You’ll ride with me and I’ll bring you back here when we’re done.”

“I won’t go,” she said in an indignant voice.

“An hour, Maisie,” I said.

She rose and turned her back to me. She said nothing, but her body language spoke volumes. Her shoulders dropped as though she’d been defeated, and it broke my heart. She tidied up her work area and put the item she’d been immersed in when I entered on a hanger and hung it on the garment rack. She then placed the vase of flowers by her sewing machine, and it made me smile. Turning the light off, she said, “I’ll drive. You can ride with me, that way I can leave when I’m ready.”

“Deal.”

“Why does a little bitty thing like you drive this big SUV?”

“It makes me feel safe.”

I saw her close her eyes and wondered – was she saying a prayer? When she put it in gear to drive away, I turned to face her. “Thank you.”

“For what?”

“Allowing me to find out if you intrigue me, or piss me off.” As I laughed, I saw the corners of her beautiful mouth curl into a smile.

We went to a small local café; a place suggested that was ‘good home cooking without a lot of nosy Nashville gawkers’. We ordered dinner, and began what felt like an easy conversation. I did most of the talking, but she asked questions, and it looked like she wasn’t ready to jump and run to the door to leave.

“Where are you from?” she inquired.

“Are you from Nashville?” I asked.

“I am, but I think I asked where you’re from,” she laughed.

“East Guthrie, Oklahoma. It’s kind of in between Oklahoma City and Stillwater. I like when you laugh. It’s a nice sound.”

“And how’d you end up here?” she asked, directing the subject back to me.

“I didn’t come to Nashville looking to make it big. I was discovered back home. I played in this bar, Wet Willie’s, for about ten years, and I’d have been content to stay right there. One night, Nigel Rose, from the group Traveler, came in and decided I needed to give this a go. He liked my sound, and sent me to Florida to work with Andy Stevens, and now here I am.”

“Andy Stevens,” she sighed, and I laughed. “I remember when I was a kid that Traveler was the hottest band out there. There were cassette tapes at home that I would sneak off with to listen to.” 

“So you’re from Nashville…” I began.

“Born and raised,” she replied, but offered nothing more.

“How’d you come to be the seamstress of Queen Carlene Duncan?” I pressed for more information.

“I started sewing at a young age as a distraction, and I just kept getting better and better. In tenth grade I made this fancy vest and entered it in the state fair. Carlene was playing the fairs back then. She saw the vest and loved it, and offered me a lot of money for it. I started sewing for her and my vests became famous, but more importantly, a great friendship evolved.”

I could feel her opening the door a little.
Keep her talking
, I thought. “I’ve seen her vests. So you’re a small operation…”

“Small and busy. It’s just Dion and me. He’s a gem, and I mean that in the most loving way. He’s been with me since Carlene helped me get the first shop. I was seventeen. She saw something in me and wanted me to succeed, so she helped me get a start. I’m picky now about what projects I take on, but I love it. I could live without the Audras of the world,” she said with a sarcastic laugh.

“I believe I could, as well. The way she spoke to you that first day I came in the shop was rude and disrespectful. I don’t have much time for that.”

“How did you end up with her as your manager?” Maisie asked. She had her right elbow on the table, head leaning into her hand, toying with a piece of hair behind her ear as she spoke. She didn’t seem nervous any longer. It was more like a habit – a cute, bewitching habit. I watched her. I swear that I could look in her eyes all night. I felt like a love-struck teenager.

“She was on the short list of the supposed ‘best of the best’ when I was getting amped up for all of this. I’m not quite sure at this point how better she is. We have different ideas about how my career should go.”

“She’ll take you places…”

“Yes, but I’m not sure we want me going to the same place,” I said, and she smiled. “She’s far more ambitchuous than I’m ready for.”

“Ambitchuous?” Maisie giggled.

“Yeah, she’s kind of bitchy about how ‘we’ go where she thinks I need to,” I explained and Maisie roared with laughter. It was a new sound to my ears. I loved it.

She talked about the area – places that she thought I should explore as a “newbie” to the area, places to get to know the old, true Nashville. She told me about other celebrities that she designed for. She talked about anything but Maisie Bolden. One hour turned into two and finally, she told me she needed to go.

“Are you sure? I’ve enjoyed this, a lot.” I wasn’t ready for the evening to end.

“It’s late. Yes, I really need to go.”

We got in her SUV and headed back to her shop where my truck was waiting.

After I stepped out, I walked around to her side and she put the window down. “Thanks for a nice evening, Maisie. I’d really like to do this again. For the record, you intrigue me.”

“I think you intrigue me as well. You’re a good-looking man with a big career in front of you. I find myself wondering why you even want to bother with me.”

“Bother? It’s no bother, Maisie. I find you attractive and captivating.” Even in the dark, I saw the blush that rose on her cheeks. “I know that I’m drawn to you. It’s a tug you seem to have on me. I
want
to get to know you.”

“I can’t commit to anything. Tonight has been a pleasant surprise, and I thank you, but I don’t know about ‘again’,” she said, lowering her eyes.

I pulled someone else’s business card from my wallet. “Got a pen?” She reached in the console to hand it to me and I scribbled my number on the back. “If you don’t call me before the week is up, I’m coming looking for you, and I know were to find you,” I teased.