His Southern Sweetheart

Mr. Kelly chalked up the missed opportunity for this golden moment of reality TV due to her being overworked. He told her to take this opportunity to spend quality time with her grandmother and not concern herself with work—at least not for a few weeks or until she got her grandmother situated. He meant well, but work was her life. To top things off, the landlord caught her coming down the steps and stopped her to let her know about the impending increase in rent. So in four months she needed to decide if she wanted to renew her soon-to-be expensive apartment, where she rarely spent more than four days in a row, or take part of her time off to try and find a new place to move. Right now, she had enough to do.

Apparently, her starlet, Natalia, had refused to come out of the bathroom to be filmed. This latest incident in Azúcar only validated Amelia’s standing in the company. The commercial shoot for their number one show was on hold without Amelia being there to lay down the law. Natalia had refused to be filmed and spent her days in the bathroom, where the cameramen would not follow. They’d originally come to Atlanta to shoot a commercial, and the management team for the ad agency hired to create the latest business adventure, Azúcar Perfume, was gravely behind schedule. Amelia had granted one last favor to MET by making the trip back to Atlanta to explain to her star why she wouldn’t be able to work with her for a while.

“You’re so sweet for coming to see me face-to-face.” Natalia unclipped her thumbtack-sized microphone off the collar of her yellow blouse.

Amelia’s eyes glanced toward the mini-microphone and cringed. Her life’s work had been catching every moment for reality TV. How in the hell was she going to last in Southwood for the duration of her grandmother’s rehabilitation? “Of course I came to see you face-to-face. We’re friends and I firmly believe an explanation is best that way.”

“Well, I for one I can’t begin to tell you how sorry I am,” Natalia wailed as she fell against the oversize makeup chair in her Atlanta hotel suite. The stylist applying the black eyeliner messed up and left a streak of makeup along Natalia’s temple. According to William’s snide remarks, today was the first day Natalia had decided to put on makeup, thanks to the heads-up of Amelia’s arrival. Since Natalia had gone on her impromptu strike, there had been no grand openings or appearances to promote Azúcar Perfume, the latest business project for the Ruiz family, so filming was at a standstill.

Even with no formal announcement, Amelia still knew the show was about to go on. Most people, like Amelia, dressed down in a pair of jeans and a T-shirt, but not Natalia. Amelia had learned early on of Natalia’s addiction to makeup and heels. She never went anywhere without having her faux lashes attached or stilettos on her stems, and she never allowed the film crew to catch her bare-faced. Natalia getting her makeup done was a good start.

“I’m sorry!” the young artist cried.

Natalia reached for a napkin from the makeup-covered vanity in front of her and shooed her away before turning her attention back to Amelia. “Don’t worry,” she said, smiling sweetly. “How about you go take a break while I talk to my friend here? You can let the cameramen know I’m almost ready.”

Amelia leaned forward, her mouth gaping in disbelief. Natalia Ruiz lived up to every stereotype of being a diva. Amelia didn’t take her crap, which probably made them such close friends, but others quaked when Natalia was upset. “What happened at your dinner to bring out this softer side in you?”

“Whatever.” Natalia rolled her eyes and waited until the doors closed, leaving them alone. “All right fine. Is your mic on?”

“No,” Amelia said with a sigh. “Have you forgotten? I’m suspended.”

“Suspended?”

“A strongly suggested vacation to take care of my grandmother, same thing.” Amelia shrugged her shoulders.

“Wait.” Natalia’s eyes widened. “For how long?”

“A month.”

Natalia’s mouth gaped open. “I’m so sorry.”

“Don’t be.” Amelia waved off the apology and forced a toothy smile across her face. “I get to spend some time with my grandmother.”

“When I couldn’t find you Friday morning to explain—” Natalia patted Amelia’s shoulder “—you were still upset about getting the call about your grandmother. It’s horrible. How is she now?”

With a sigh, Amelia updated Natalia with what had gone wrong. Grandmamma had fallen down the stairs of her two-story farmhouse down in Southwood. She lived so far out in the country it was a miracle someone had found her. She’d lain on the floor with a broken leg until Pastor Rivers had stopped by randomly—thank God—to check on her on Thursday evening. Amelia couldn’t imagine how painful it must’ve been for her elderly grandmother to come tumbling down the stairs. As a child, she herself had found the stairs too steep for her little legs and had loved sliding down the banister as a shortcut.

“A broken leg,” Amelia concluded. “My mama wants the downstairs office for her to live in so she won’t have to climb the stairs.”

“Is your mom going to move back home?”

Amelia frowned and shook her head. “No way. My grandmamma’s home is nothing like your mansion.”

“What?” Natalia asked with a pout.

“She has a barn attached to the side of her home, but that’s the extent of privacy. Nothing like your place where your whole family lives under the same roof, but you guys can go days without running into one another.”

“The grass isn’t always greener,” Natalia said, glancing down at her hands in her lap.

“I like my privacy, Natalia. I grew up in Southwood, a pretty much one-streetlight town. Everyone knows everyone.”

“Sounds cozy.”

“Not when you’re the one person everyone hates.”

Natalia glanced up, her features softened. “What?”

“Never mind. Look, I have a month to get everything ready. Mr. Kelly said as soon as I take care of things back home, I can come back to work. I am going to get the porch steps lowered or put a ramp in there. Grandmamma will have a fit either way, so while she’s recuperating in the hospital, I’ll take this time to go down South for repairs.”

“Good thing MET hosts a bunch of remodeling shows,” said Natalia. “You can get any of those guys to fix up the place for free. Hell, you should even turn it into a show.”

“We’ve been spending too much time together,” Amelia said with a grin, rubbing her hands on the front of her dark-wash denim jeans, “trying to find the television angle for everything.”

“Well, I have to come up with something. I am afraid to ask, but is this my fault?” Natalia pouted her glossy bottom lip again.

Although her friend was wearing so much makeup, Amelia chewed her naked bottom lip. Normally she brushed her lashes a few times with black mascara and maybe a colored, flavored lip gloss and called it a day. “Sweetie, it is,” Amelia said dryly. Then Natalia’s frown deepened and Amelia let her off with a half smile and a slight push against her shoulder. “I’m kidding.”

“I’m so sorry about your grandmother.”

“You’re not to blame for what happened to her or what happened with my job,” Amelia sniffed, pushing the pity party out of her head. Christopher claimed he wanted Amelia to use her hours upon hours of leave time wisely. Just as she’d proven herself in the past to be a dedicated employee at MET, family meant everything to him. Mr. Kelly made it clear for her to enjoy her time with her family and to not be distracted by anything at work. Amelia was prohibited from contacting anyone from the network, so the idea of having help was null and void. Southwood was small enough she could find someone to assist, provided she was allowed to tell her folks what had happened. But Grandmamma wanted to keep the incident a secret. Amelia inhaled deeply. “I am to blame. You were my responsibility.”

“But still,” Natalia whined. “I do apologize.”

Amelia liked to think of herself as a forgiving kind of gal. “Make it up to me by telling me who this mystery man is?”

A part of Amelia wished she had gotten the conversation on film. When Natalia’s aunt, Yadira, had approached MET about getting the network involved with their lives, Natalia had already turned eighteen. So there wasn’t much that was known of her teen years.

“Stephen and I go back, way back,” Natalia explained as her heavy lashes fluttered dreamily. “He’s an ex who is practically Villa San Juan royalty. I was glad when his brother contacted me and said he needed to talk,” Natalia moaned.

“What happened?”

“Let’s just say if Tía Yadira had the ability to arrange a marriage, it would have been between us.”

“A marriage made in Puerto Rican heaven,” Amelia teased as her eyes glazed over, imagining the ratings they would have received. This would have been a perfect angle for a reality show for MET. A multicultural wedding was right up their alley. She pictured in her mind the memo she’d have written:

Dear MET executives,

We’ve watched her grow up; now let’s follow the road to the Ruiz wedding.

Sincerely,

Amelia

“Hey, didn’t a mass school shooting happen there about ten years ago?” Other than the tragic ending to a school year, Amelia had heard nothing but good things about Villa San Juan, the small island off the coast of Florida. It was on her lists of places to visit once she gathered some vacation time. Maybe once she made sure Grandmamma was okay, she’d check it out and come back to MET with a follow-up story on the tragedy. For a moment Amelia’s eyes glazed over. She wondered if anyone had done a follow-up story. Where were the students now? Had they gotten over the trauma?

“Thirteen years ago, and it was right after Stephen graduated, but his brother and cousins were affected by it. As for me and Stephen, clearly, things did not end well with us, and so I supposed he somehow blamed me for his mistrust in women.” Natalia went on about her relationship with Stephen while Amelia made a mental list of who to contact for a follow-up report.

“Oh, sure,” said Amelia, her voice elevated with sarcasm. “You’d never do anything to hurt a man’s feelings.”