Chapter One
Gauze and Breeze
It was a perfect June morning in northeastern Ohio. The sun illuminated the periwinkle sky as a gentle breeze fluttered through the open window of my gorgeous office on the eighth floor of the beautiful Palazzo Castellano, a hotel situated in the center of downtown Heaton Valley. Perfect morning. Perfect office. Perfect little town.
So why was I so damn miserable?
I have everything a girl could want. I’m living my dream. I have my own private online investigation business in a big, beautiful office that adjoins the office of a sweet, handsome lawyer who just happens to love me to pieces. I have a new car, gorgeous clothes, and a huge rock of an engagement ring so big I could use to put out an eye in a street fight. I have a wonderful circle of friends and family who love and support me in whatever I do. I am my own boss. Nobody tells me what to do.
So then… why the misery?
I don’t know. Because I’m not the person I used to be, maybe. My motto has always been honesty is the best policy. But one lie led to two, then four, and they continued to grow at an alarming rate. I almost needed to carry around a notebook to write down my lies in order to keep them straight. But I was afraid I’d lose it, someone would find it, and discover my deceit.
I’m no longer the honest human being I thought I was. Lately, I lie to people on a daily basis. I lie to my mother. I told her I met Kayko in Los Angeles last year at the newspaper convention. I told her there was nothing serious going on between Kayko and my brother Dane. I told her Kayko would probably be going back to California soon.
My wonderful fiancé whom I adore? Yes, I lie to him, too. Of course, you can come with me, Carter. And no, I’m not up to anything. And I nurture those lies and cuddle up to them and keep them warm.
I am keeping the truth from my brother Dane about his new girlfriend, Kayko. He thinks she’s a little wounded bird. And he is dead-set on saving this orphaned waif. Little does he know, she not an orphan. She has family and a betrothed in China. She was part in a human trafficking ring. She lived as a homeless person on the streets of Detroit. And her name is made up, like every other part of her life.
I lied to my client Jack Harlan. I know who the father of his girlfriend’s daughter is, and it’s not some dead Italian Art professor. Lystra’s father is very much alive and is an extremely dangerous criminal. And as far as keeping his fiancée Simone out of the loop? Well, guess what, she knows everything.
And I lied to Kayko. Sure, I can get you papers so you can stay in the country legally. Sure, I can keep you safe. Sure, I can hide you from international sex trade criminals.
I took a deep breathe. Stop it, Cat. Everybody tells a few untruths every now and then, don’t they? Maybe I was blowing this whole honesty crisis out of proportion. Maybe a walk in the park across the street would clear my head and help me feel better. I pulled on my jacket and put my wallet and keys in my pocket.
Just then I heard the sound of stiletto heels clicking on the tile floor, slowly, deliberately, almost seductively, into Carter’s adjoining office. He likes to keep the door between our two offices open in case I get into trouble. He believes private investigation tends to draw out the most unsavory of characters and he worries about my safety. I peeked around the corner.
The most gorgeous girl I ever saw in my life was standing in Carter’s office. A beautiful face framed with long, flowing, shiny brown curls gazed at Carter. Her hands on her hips, feet apart, her tiny gauzy dress blowing slightly in the breeze. Skin, hair, figure, nails, outfit - all perfect.
“Hello, Lover,” the beautiful creature purred.
“Yvette!” called Carter.
Yvette. Of course, my finance’s ex-girlfriend had to be the most beautiful girl in the world.
“What are you doing here?” Carter said in shock.
“I miss you, Rick,” she cooed as she walked runway-style around his desk.
I hid around the corner, plastering myself to the wall, trying to calm myself. I peeked around slowly.
She pulled open his bottom desk drawer.
“What are you want?” Carter asked.
“Isn’t it obvious? I want… you. I want you back.”
Yvette put her foot up on the bottom drawer. The sun streaming through the window left nothing to the imagination. Little Miss Yvette, the beautiful underwear model, wasn’t wearing any.
“Yvette, I’m engaged to a …
She reached over and grasped his hand. She placed his hand gently on her uppermost inner thigh, then slid it up.
Carter moaned.
I knew that particular moan. I knew it very well. I held my stomach. I thought I was going to puke. I needed to get out of the office. I couldn’t bear to stand here and listen to her… to them… I slipped off my shoes and quietly made for my office door.
Once in the hallway, I ran to the elevator at break-neck speed. I went up to our penthouse apartment. I just made it into the bathroom. Crying and puking. Heaving and sobbing.
I knew it! I just knew the someday he’d want his old life back. Big Manhattan lawyer with his underwear model Barbie Doll of a girlfriend. Why would he be satisfied with this boring, little hick-town existence? With me? Why was I surprised? I knew it was coming. More sobs, more heaves.
I threw some clothes in a suitcase and found some shoes. I placed my big, beautiful, heart-shaped diamond engagement ring in the center of the dining room table. I ran.
Where could I go? I let my friend Marcy Winegard stay at my old shoebox of an apartment while she looks for a place. She and boyfriend Carl Hayden called it quits and she needed a place. I could stay with my sister. I know she would take me, but she was at work and I need to get out of here right now. Where could I go?
“Mom?” I cried.
“What is it, Cat? What’s wrong?”
“Carter…” I blubbered. “And Yvette.”
My normally nasty, caustic, supercritical mother wrapped her arms around me and pulled me close to her. She stroked my hair.
“Oh, I’m so sorry, honey. He was really something special. You two were so happy. So, he packed up and went back to New York and the underwear model girlfriend, huh?”
“No. She came to his office. In this flimsy, little see-through dress. I was just leaving. I saw…” I cried some more. “I saw her seduce him. He didn’t try to stop her. He didn’t push her away. He didn’t say stop. He… he moaned.” More tears and sobs.
“Men! They’re horrible, disgusting creatures. Sex maniacs, all of them. They have no self-respect or self-control.”
“Not Daddy.”
“No, not your father. And not your brother. But all the rest of them. And just what did he have to say for himself when you confronted him?”
“I didn’t. I haven’t talked to him. I ran away”
“What did Detrick have to say about his perfect, wonderful son?”
“I don’t know. I don’t even know if he knows.”
My mother eyed my suitcase.
“Come on, honey, let’s go upstairs and get the small bedroom ready. Then I’ll make you some soup. Tomato soup and a toasted cheese sandwich. And a pickle or two. And a cup of tea. Then you can take a little nap. You’ll feel better.
"This is part of life, my dear girl. Everybody gets their heart broken. You don’t get out of life without at least one major beat-down.
“But you’ll be okay. In fact, you’ll be even stronger than before.”
My cell phone rang. I took it out of my pocket and threw it on the couch.
My mother peeped over. “It’s Detrick. Do you want to talk to him?”
“No.”
She peeped again.
“I see Carter called a number of times. Do you think you should talk to him?”
“No.”
“Okay. Maybe later,” said my mom as we went upstairs to the small bedroom.
I finally discovered the secret of understanding my mother. When I had anything at all going for me at all, she felt it was her motherly obligation to point out all my faults, tell me what I was doing wrong, and how anything bad that happened anywhere in the western hemisphere was somehow my fault.
But when I was physically hurt, or brokenhearted and wanted to curl up in a ball and die, my mother was wonderful.
After soup and a nap, I felt a little more able to deal with the situation.
“Honey, sooner or later, you’re going to have to talk to both of them.”
“Later is better.”
“Maybe they need to hear the pain in your voice right now. Maybe they need to know just what they’ve done to you.”
“Maybe you’re right, Mom. Maybe they do. I’ll start with Detrick.” I picked up my phone and went back upstairs.
“Detrick, you called me?” I said as nonchalantly as possible.
“Cat, what the hell just happened?”
“You need to talk to Carter.”
“I can’t. Fred saw him leave the hotel with his suitcases and some skinny, little brown-haired girl we never saw before clutching onto him. He’s… he’s gone.”
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