PROPINQUITY (noun):
affinity of nature; similarity
CHAPTER TWO
MYSTERY AUTHOR IN TROUBLE AGAIN
Richard Castle, best-selling mystery author and playboy extraordinaire, is in the hot seat again. PETA released a statement after last week's police horse incident condemning the author for "traumatizing an animal who is at the complete mercy of humans," and also sending a message to the NYPD pleading for them to "stop taking advantage" of the animals. Calls to the NYPD requesting a comment were not answered.
Black Pawn Publishing appears to have taken action on Mr. Castle's recent actions that suggest he may be on his way out. An anonymous source inside the company told us exclusively that they've hired PR consultant Kate Beckett to "work on his image," otherwise they have clause to drop him.
No word yet on how Ms. Beckett is going to improve his image. Just last night, he was spotted leaving a charity fundraising dinner with a trio of blondes accompanying him. One witness stated that he was "absolutely, and they'd been hanging off him all night."
Ms. Beckett seems to have her hands full with this out of control bad boy.
The first week was a disaster, at least to Kate Beckett. Castle probably thought it was a riot, paparazzi catching him making out with not one, not two, but three probably-barely-of-age ladies – more like girls – that he'd picked up at the fundraising dinner for Robin Hood Foundation. A charity, for Christ's sake.
She huffed and threw the paper to the other side of the counter. Her morning had started out like any other morning – not good, not bad, just routine – when she'd spotted the Page Six headline about her client. She'd been very clear that he was to keep a low profile at the event. No excessive drinking, no inappropriate comments, no flirting with anyone beside an assistant, who Kate had instructed to accompany him, to keep him in line.
So of course he ditched her as soon as he'd seen the younger, bustier, and blonder ladies he'd spotted at the open bar. And he'd spent the rest of the evening flirting with them and suggesting that they accompany him back to his loft.
Apparently, they'd taken him up on the offer, if Page Six was to be believed.
Disgusted, Kate reached for her coffee pot and poured herself a second cup. Usually she's good with one, despite getting minimal sleep most nights, but she had a feeling she'd need the extra jolt from the caffeine today.
She didn't have a meeting scheduled with him originally, but after his ill-advised exploits of the previous night, she figured a last-minute call was just what the doctor ordered. Typically she'd have one of her assistants call her client to set something up ahead of time; no, this time she wanted to call him. She wanted to throw him off his game so he couldn't compose himself before seeing her, like he'd done the handful of times they'd met.
No, she didn't want him to be ready with his scripted answers and carefully planned appearance. After their initial meeting, he'd claimed that he would listen to her, do as she instructed in regards to repairing his reputation.
Obviously, he'd been full of shit, if his shenanigans from the previous night were any indication.
She studied his file for the hundredth time as she rode in her town car to the office. Single, no children, 38 years old (although he certainly didn't look it, she thought to herself). He was a longtime bachelor with one divorce 15 years before and no kids. The dossier she'd been given by Black Pawn was thin on his personal life, most everything being things that she could find out from his website.
What she needed to know what what made him act the way he did. What made him tick. What did he go to nightclubs instead of staying in? Why had he never settled down again after the disastrous less-than-a-year-long first marriage? Being in public relations, working directly with the clients, was part marketing, part psychology. Everyone had an underlying reason for acting like they did.
It was her job to find out what.
Katie had just drifted off to sleep when the sound of the door slamming shut woke her. She knew it was late and that her mom had been worried sick about her dad, and that she should just stay in her room. But she was also 16, practically an adult, so she cracked open her bedroom door to try and listen.
Their voices were hushed, but she had good hearing, so she didn't have to go but a few steps down the hall to make out the words.
"This is the third night this week, Jim," her mom hissed, and Katie could easily picture the set jaw and the glare that could make any defense attorney cower.
"It's…I'm fine." Her dad's words came out slowly and slurred, and Katie knew that he was drunk again, that that's why her mom was so upset. Because he hadn't called, hadn't come home for hours, and when he finally did, he was like this. Her mom was right. It was the third time this week, not like Katie was counting.
But she was.
And she was heartbroken.
Her dad had always been strong, the pillar that supported her and her mom in good times and bad. As a corporate attorney, he worked more normal hours than her mom, so he'd always been home for dinner, or at least by Katie's bedtime.
Until lately.
"What is it this time, Jim?" her mom continued, and Katie snuck farther down the hall so she could see her parents. Her dad was slumped in a chair at the dining room table, and her mom was standing over him, arms crossed, and Katie saw both anger and something else written over her features. Anger and...hurt.
Shit.
Suddenly she was pissed at her dad, wanted to jump out from her hiding place and yell at him too, for hurting her mom like that.
Dammit, Dad.
His head started to drop, but he caught it with his hand, propped it up with an elbow on the table. "Rough case," he mumbled, probably as an apology.
Katie rolled her eyes from the hallway. Both being lawyers, there was one thing her parents rarely did, and that was apologize outright for something. Especially if they knew they were in the wrong. When she looked back at her parents, she caught the end of her mom's eye roll.
"That's not an excuse, Jim, and you know it. I'm tired of this. I'm tired of staying up worrying about you, wondering if you're lying dead in an alley somewhere. I'm tired of Katie glancing at your empty chair at dinner. This has to stop." She motioned towards the couch, but Katie could only see the back of it from her vantage point. "There's a blanket and the garbage can in case you get sick. We'll talk in the morning."
Katie scrambled back to her room and pretended that she didn't hear the sob from her mom, or the muttered "I love you, Jo" from her dad. She just burrowed back under the covers and tried to forget.
Kate rarely visited her clients at home. She almost always had them come into her office, or she would visit them at theirs, but Castle appeared to be a special case. No kids gloves with him: if he wouldn't listen to her when they were in a professional setting, she was going to make it personal. So she had her driver take her to his building, a SoHo building that from the outside looked low key, although nice. Judging by the man's personality, however, his apartment was probably swanky.
She introduced herself to the doorman, who let her up with almost no hesitation after she mentioned that she was working with Gina and Paula. Obviously those two ladies were frequent visitors to Castle's home, Kate surmised.
She wondered if Castle had slept with either of them. Hell, maybe both.
In the elevator, Kate briefly doubted her decision not to call before arriving at his doorstep. It was very likely that the trio of blondes he left with could still be there, that she could be interrupting something. But she stepped onto his floor anyway and strode to his door with confidence. She paused for a moment and listened; she didn't hear anything, so she knocked on the door with several loud raps.
A few minutes passed with no sound from the other side, and she'd just pulled her phone from her purse to call him when she finally heard footsteps and a muffled "I'm coming!"
The door opened to a very ragged-looking Castle, hair sticking up in every direction, eyes bloodshot, and several days worth of scruff on his face. He blinked several times, as if to bring himself back to awareness, and squinted. "Why are you knocking so loud?"
Hungover. Fine. Kate seethed, and shoved the paper in his chest as she barged past him into his apartment. She couldn't help but glance around; it was decorated surprisingly tastefully, stylish and modern, not what she was expecting. She did expect the size, although her penthouse on the Upper West Side was equally impressive.
"You should be proud of yourself," she snapped, turning on her heel, while she tried to level him with her stare.
Castle skimmed the contents of Page Six, his lips turning up as he read it. "Trio of blondes," he muttered quietly, wistfully.
"What was that?"
Castle glanced up at her, a smile on his face. "The trio of blondes. Worth every penny."
Kate's jaw dropped. Really, she shouldn't be surprised that they were, well, paid escorts. That, however, had escaped the knowledge of her assistant. She'd have to talk to Ann. "Worth every...Mr. Castle, do you know what you've done?"
"Yeah." He chuckled, and shifted his gaze back to his bedroom, his gaze wistful, as if he's remembering. "I know exactly what I've done. I was drunk, but not that drunk."
Kate snapped her fingers in front of his face to bring his attention back to her. "You got wasted. At a charity fundraiser. A charity that fights poverty, Castle. You drank hundreds of dollars worth of booze, and left with three women who were apparently paid escorts. Prostitutes, Castle. Do you know what kind of damage control I have to do now?"
"Good thing that's your job," he retorted, slipping past her into the kitchen, where he turned on his coffee maker.
"Where are these escorts, anyway?"
"Oh, they're gone. Left after we were done."
Kate's eyebrows shot up at that. "What, were they too expensive to stay all night?"
"God, no. I haven't had a woman stay the night in years. No, but I think I underpaid them for what they did." The coffee brewed quickly, and Castle poured a little cream and sugar in before he drank the whole mug in a few large gulps. "Fuck, that's better," he said after a minute. "At one point, I was tied up, and all three of them were-"
"Castle," Kate interrupted, and kept talking even as he poured himself a second mug. "You cannot pull stunts like this when I'm around. Do you understand that? I can't do my job if you keep doing this kind of shit. The press will eat you up."
"That isn't exactly a bad thing..."
"Oh my God. Fine. Do whatever the hell you want, okay?" She moved to the door, grabbing the paper on her way past the kitchen island. "But one of these days it will bite you in the ass."
"You know, that's actually very plea-"
"I don't want to hear it." She paused at the door, one hand on the handle, and glared at him. "You have a meeting with Gina at 1. And don't think she won't know about this shit. You better not be late."
And with that, she left.
A/N: Thank you for your support/reviews/tweets/etc from the first chapter! And thanks to Callie for all of her help!
