Chapter 22: Book Smart Lips


Omaha Street, Manhattan

Barnes and Noble – February 20th, 2006

Noon


"…It was crowded. You're such a popular writer. Every mystery fiend in town was there, and I wasn't the least bit surprised. You really have a way of twisting a plot, of turning a sentence to make readers think that something is actually happening. I've been scared plenty of times.

And there I was, at least the eightieth person in line. I had two books, one for Roxanne and one for myself. I couldn't keep my eyes off you the entire time. You looked happy, but it was forced, I could tell. You signed books and shook hands and accepted kisses and hugs from fans, but I knew you were depressed. I knew why too.

All that business with your wife. The first one. What was her name…Amy?

The newspapers were bursting with accusations and rumors about you still, even though it was nearly two years later at that point. The cops were out to prove you were a murderer. But you still had loyal readers and more fans than you knew what to do with. And do you know why that is Mr. Rainey?

It's because everyone wanted to believe your story so badly. Everyone wanted a reason to be that much more scared when they read it. What good is a mystery writer with great murder plots, if he doesn't have bloody hands to show for it once in a while?

That's why I was there. I wanted my chance to see you face to face, to determine it all for myself, and to attempt making a lasting impression…"

I could hear everything being said, everything Catalina was spitting out between me and Mort. But I couldn't see anything and that's what bothered me the most. I had no sure way of knowing where her hands were, the ones I wanted to break personally. I had no choice, but to sit patiently and listen.

Ye are a beautiful listener…I heard Roux in my head and I didn't know why. Maybe he was there because Mort had his Catalina back again and I needed mine for subconscious protection. "Predictable, ain't it? We men always want wot' appears most foreign t' us, most mysterious."

Tell me about it.

"…I was third in line, and you were already staring back at me constantly, through other bodies of people. It was so magnetic. I can't explain it…"

I sighed, blind and deaf to the world around me. I was freezing, still wearing nothing but men's underwear and a loose dress shirt. My ankles were burning with the way the rope cut into them. My head ached, my heart reeled and all I could think about as Catalina went on with her little tale, was how at any minute, my kids and Mort's parents would be coming back.

That is, if they hadn't already been tied up somewhere else, same as me.

"…there was immediate chemistry." She giggled and my stomach churned, "Chemistry between nerds I suppose…"

"…I stepped up to the table then with the books and nearly fainted from your cologne alone. You were so intoxicating, in your glasses and tilted fedora. You were dorky too, I'll admit, but then again I looked no different.

You smiled, hugely in fact, as if you'd been waiting the whole hour for me to get to that table.

"Mr. Rainey, hi."

"Hi," you were so adorable. It's no wonder Roxanne had to have you. "How are you?"

"I'm better now."

You laughed and twisted the sharpie in your hand, just staring wildly up at me.

"It's such a pleasure to get to meet you."

"Oh, well, likewise Miss…?"

"Cat. My name's Cat."

"Cat," you winked then and I nearly melted. "Can I sign something for you, Cat?"

The way you said my name, it was like pure sin, like the darkest of your books, one that didn't exist, because the story only existed between your eyes and mine.

"Please." I shoved the books towards you and explained, "One is mine and the second is for one of my bosses. She couldn't make it, so she sent me."

You laughed again, sympathetically so, "Ah. One of those bosses, huh? I've been there before."

"Yeah," I leaned closer to you on the table while you were focused on signing my book. "She's a big fan, but," I remember pausing when I could feel your breath blow just over my knuckles on the table's edge, "Not as much as I am."

Then you glanced up at me, as though you understood exactly what I was saying. You were smiling and thinking something that I could barely know, and in that deep voice of yours you said, "What's her name?"

"Huh?"

"Your boss. Her name. Or should I just put 'To the boss from hell…'?"

"No. No, don't do that. I need my job."

Your teasing worked and together we laughed.

"Her name is Roxanne."

"Like the song?"

"Actually…" I sneered, thinking about the woman in question, the woman I knew better from watching her blinds open and close each day, than she knew herself, "…yes. Exactly like the song."

"Hm. I might have to meet this boss of yours."

You kept doodling words into both of the books, handing them to me one at a time, until you were done and just staring right back up at me.

"Thank you, Cat." Your smile was huge and your eyes sparkled under your glasses and hat. "I hope you like the book."

"Oh I will, don't worry."

There was a stint of silence before you winked once more and said, "Have a good day."

"You too," I choked then and turned away to head back through the store, back to my ordinary little life in the copy room at Rolling Stone, back out the door of the one place I'd ever get to see you again, by a lucky chance when your next book hit shelves.

I was halfway through the Social Sciences section, when I became too curious and threw back the cover of the top book, the one I knew was mine. And I couldn't believe what I was seeing when I did. Do you remember at all, what you wrote to me that day Mort…?"

I was twisting my hands in the rope binding them behind my back when Catalina stopped the story again and directed her questioning attention to Mort. I was blindfolded with the bandana from his mouth, so I knew that unless she was kissing him, he was perfectly able to respond. My wrists occupied my mind for a long moment of silence, while I attempted to not necessarily break free, but at least loosen the tightness of them. And then I heard his voice and the universe stopped, like it always does.

"Why would I remember what I wrote? I meet a thousand fans a day at one of those things. And it was FIVE YEARS ago…"

I have to admit, for a split second, I felt a surge of guilt, of remorse for Catalina. Or rather Cat. Here she was, despite the position she'd tied us up in with threat, pouring her heart out and putting it on the line, and that's the answer he gave her. It lasted long enough to be a true emotion, but eventually, when she opened her mouth again, the sympathy I felt for her was gone and the hate returned.

"Well I thought you might have remembered it. After all, it was so worth remembering."

She was walking again; I could hear her heels on the tile floor heading back towards him. I knew she made it when I heard him grunt and struggle against her.

"Don't touch me. Get your hands off me."

"Relax," her voice was like butter, like sex. That killed me the most I think. "I just want to show you what you wrote to me."

"Stop it," he growled at her, "What the fuck is your problem?"

She sighed and I could plainly hear her hands on his body, roving over his jeans, tugging at a belt, and planting kisses on skin. "I'm in love," she whispered darkly, yanking at my insides with a murderous sort of burn, one I hadn't felt in too many long years.

"Get off me. Now--" She cut him off mid word. And I knew why. I could hear it. Sloppy and forced. The kiss of a woman on the prowl. The kiss of a man who was trying to fight it.

And me? I was dead silent. Breathless. Reserved as any good victim should be.

Survival. I just need to survive her jealousy.

Their lips parted with a wet resistance in the air around me and he immediately snapped at her.

"Let me go. Fucking un-tie me!"

"Why? So we can finish this in the bedroom…?"

I heard an unsatisfied grunt come from him and I knew what she'd done to him and where.

"Catalina, Jesus, stop!"

"Not until you read this. It might change your mind."

There was a shuffle of something, pages, a book. The book.

"Look," her voice was soft, narrow and quiet. "Read it out loud. Be nice and share it with Roxy."

"No."

"Come on," she purred, against what I knew was his neck. It had to be his neck. It was too tempting, for any woman. "Look at your pretty wife." I wondered if he was. I just sat still and remote. "She's dying to know how you really feel about your fans…"

"Just get off me."

Catalina refused and instead, began reading it herself with a dissatisfied sigh.

"Kitty Cat…" that was already enough for me and I turned my face back in another direction, wishing that somehow I could block sound too. "I am thankful for your loyal readership, but I promise, there are a million other writers in the world, better than I can hope to be. Skip work, meet me in the Thriller section at 3 o'clock and I'll show you a few…signed, Morton Rainey."

Silence prevailed then. Silence because I think he remembered it all. Silence because Catalina had won another round of cat and mouse in our kitchen. Silence because even if I had the means to voice my opinion, I wouldn't have.

"You are such a romantic, and you don't even realize it."

"Ow!"

I didn't know what she did to him, but I knew it couldn't have been anything too bad. After all, he was the man she apparently loved. A pinch on the cheek maybe?

Her voice stung when she began to speak again.

"It's just not fair, though. I waited until three o'clock that day. I met you. I spent time with you. I thought we had such a connection. I thought that our afternoon in your hotel room meant something," there was a pout in her words, "I thought you wanted to be with me."

It was quiet for only half a second. I assumed that both of them were contemplating the obvious, what wasn't being said. And then Catalina returned to my senses.

"You gave me false hope that day, Mort. You let me fall in love with you, and give myself to you, and then you said you weren't looking to be with anyone. You took advantage of everything and you lied doing it too."

"I didn't want--"

She cut him off with a hiss, "Yes you did. Somewhere in your heart you wanted to find love again. You wanted someone to keep you warm and take care of you. We have every bit of proof we need sitting right over there."

I was sure she was pointing to me. And I was sure then, that he was looking at me.

"You broke my heart. And then, three months later, you snatched up hers."

"I didn't intentionally do it."

"But it happened. By some grace of God, you found Roxanne. Just like I always prayed you wouldn't. I prayed she wouldn't get her claws in you, like every other man she admired. And yet…" she sighed hopelessly and in ridicule, "…you fell for her. You let her in where you never wanted to let me. You let her love you, like I'd dreamed I could."

"Catalina, you can't hurt my wife, my family, all over fate."

She laughed at that one, devilishly. "This isn't one of your stories, Mort. It's mine. You can't manipulate the characters. You can't change the ending. Only I can. And I will."

I gulped as I felt my heart sinking further into the pit of my stomach, tumbling around.

"You can help me finish it for her though. Together, we can show her what she ruined."

"No." Mort answered that one fast. He knew where it was going next. He remembered enough now.

"Aw, how come? You're not uncomfortable are you?"

"What the fuck do you think?"

He was testing her and she was taking the bait. All of this I heard in the way they breathed alone. Oh, and the way she sauntered across the kitchen floor, heading for me.

"Let's ask Roxanne what she thinks." Her hand touched my cheek as she tugged the bandana from my eyes and teasingly said, "Welcome back to the party."

I just stared at her with envious eyes mostly. Envious that her hands were free, her heart was on her sleeve and she had my husband tied up to do what she wanted with him.

"I plan on this hurting," she mocked, tucking her long nails under the duck nape at my cheek, "Ready?"

Of course I was. Bitch.

She ripped the tape off in one fierce pull. The skin around my mouth was raw as my face flew to the side. I gasped for fresh air, and found it was polluted with her perfume. Catalina only gave me seconds to collect myself before she gripped my jaw and brought my face back up to hers.

"Christ! Stop it!"

She didn't listen to Mort though. What reason did she have for that?

"So tell me boss," her breath was warm on my nose, sweetened by coffee and the scent of my husband's lips, "You wouldn't mind if I went on with the story…" I watched her reach behind her and pull something out from the back of her jeans, "…would you?"

"No, don't! Catalina, stop!"

"Sh, Mr. Rainey. Let her answer the question. She might surprise you."

I had a feeling I knew what it was, by Mort's anxious growling and pulling at his chains. I was sure I knew what someone like her would have hidden in the back of her designer jeans, even before I heard the click and saw the barrel being raised to my temple.

"What's it gonna be, Roxy? My story," the gun ground into the bone of my face as I choked on the air stuck in my lungs, "…or your children?"

My eyes went wide then. Nothing had been said of them for almost an hour, although it was all I thought about sitting here. Now, the threat was imminent and being made.

I coughed in her hand and through gnawing teeth and tears begged, "Where are they?"

"They're fine. So are their grandparents. Safe and sound in town."

"D-don't hurt them."

"I won't have to," she scoffed with a tug of my face and a slide of the gun to my cheek, "If you let me finish the story, like a good girl."

I nodded quickly, not caring what she could say about her time spent with Mort. I knew what he looked like in the buff and I knew what he was like in bed. Nothing could be so embarrassing, so jealousy planted in my brain, as to make me risk my children's lives over it.

"Fine, tell it."

She smiled wickedly and tore the gun from my face, standing back as I cried.

"Just don't touch my children. Please."

"Oh, I have no intentions of putting another hand on them." Her gaze moved from me, seductively back at Mort. "Just him."

His eyes widened at me, then her.

"No fucking way. Don't come near me."

"Mort," I begged him through falling, choking tears. "Please. Max and Maddie."

I could see his heart stop in his chest when he stared at me, realizing that the risk remained.

"She's right." Catalina strolled back to him with the pistol swaying. "All it's going to take is one call. And it will be like New Year's never happened in this house. If you catch my drift…"

She waved the gun up high, before bringing it to dance over his cheek, the neckline of his shirt; his lips and down his stomach to where I saw lower, what she'd already done to him. It's not his fault, I told myself, unavoidable. Nature. Catalina…

After a long time of my crying and her taunting, he finally murmured under his breath, "Not until you let her go. Not until I know she's driven away safe, to town." He was looking right at me, plotting silently in a way only I would ever know about him. We were one in the same. One in the same that Catalina would never understand.

She thought it over though with curious eyes, glaring at me and eventually winking down at him. "You know I came here to kill her, right? And now you want me to let her go." Catalina sighed and paced between us, the ready and cocked pistol dancing in the air. "Where's the fun in that?"

"It's the only way you're getting anywhere near me."

"Now, Mr. Rainey," she quipped at him, "You know that's not true. I have this."

The gun was lifted and twisted back at me, the barrel, aimed for a straight shot between my eyes. I didn't flinch but I heard him gulp with instant fear.

"I can shoot her right now. Blood is easy to clean off tile."

He tried to get loose against all impossibility.

"Stop aiming that at her! She's pregnant!"

Catalina's eyes shot back at me then, fiercely like before. She didn't like that. Too bad.

"My, my you have been busy keeping him entertained, haven't you Roxanne?"

There was a cool hatred in her voice.

"Why not charm your darling husband into saving his kids now, instead?"

Mort groaned out against the pain we both had on our bound wrists and ankles, struggling just to feel powerful, to feel as if he were saving me somehow. But he wasn't. Not by defying her. The gun was still staring me down, ready to show me its force, its sheer certainty in fate. It remained raised to me, but she turned and only focused her attention on him again.

"Promise to finish the story with me. Our story. And she goes free."

His eyes grew shallow, focused on me. I could see him staring from the corner of my otherwise busily trained eye on the pistol. I felt him talking to me, telling me without words or sound that he wasn't going to let this end the way I was thinking it would. He was promising me that Catalina wouldn't get to finish her story. That only we would.

Did I believe it? Well, did I really have a choice?

"Fine," he exclaimed in surrender, "Untie her. It's cold outside. Get her coat and boots. The keys to the truck are by the front door." Mort sighed and I watched as the gun was lowered away from me. "I just want her safe, already."

Catalina tucked the gun in the back of her jeans again and sighed sexily, "I do love a man who cooperates with me." Then, she turned and began to do as he had said.

She untied my wrists, gently I might add, then each of my bare feet the same. She grabbed me by the hand and pulled me up, where I could barely stand on weak legs. Mort watched the both of us carefully and eyed me all the more as Catalina forced me back through the kitchen toward the swinging door and then out of sight.

"Here," she shoved my black coat at me and I threw it on without saying a word. Then she kicked my boots to me one at a time, "These too."

I pulled them on and buttoned my coat. My legs were half bared from where Mort's boxers left me shivering, but it was better than being tied to a chair still. Catalina jangled the keys at me with an annoyed look on her face and I ripped them from her hand.

"He might want you safe," she snarled, "But I want you gone. And if you try anything other than getting out of town, I will make that call."

I eyed her with a scowl and tugged my wool cap on.

"Is that a promise, Catalina?"

She said nothing. She just watched as I turned with a stomp of my boots, grabbed my bag, and tore through the screen door. I was tripping in snow, headed to the Explorer when I heard the front door lock behind me and smiled faintly. I got in the car, turned the frozen ignition over, and pulled away from the house. My eye was trained on her parked red Mercedes in the rearview mirror as I went, growling.

Goddamn Mercedes owners.

"This isn't over yet, bitch. You've messed with the wrong murderer's wife."