Chapter 38
Iwalk into my apartment and it is silent, empty, cold. Cat is gone. My phone rings and it’s my mother. Cat and I didn’t even talk about what to tell her. I answer the line and walk to the bar, and pour a stout drink, as I begin telling her everything.
“I don’t even know what to say,” she breathes out. “Yes, I do. She really loves you or she’d still be there, as backwards as that sounds. She’s worried about protecting you. She should be and you’re worried about—”
“Losing her.”
“You won’t. She loves you. That is so obvious. The kind of love a mother wants for all of her children.” She laughs bitterly. “And herself. Go solve this. You can. Focus. Do. Get your woman back.”
When we end that call, I’m reminded of how strong my mother is apart from my father, just not with him. Cat is strong with or without me. I need her to be strong without me now, and keep that damn wall down. I refill my glass before heading up the stairs. I walk into the bedroom and spot the note on her pillow. Adrenaline surges through me and I down the whiskey before I pick up it up to read: I wish I was right HERE right NOW. “Me too, sweetheart,” I murmur, before lifting the second piece of paper. I sit down and read it, emotions punching through me.
She’s coming back. I hope like fuck she still says that when this is over.
I consider buying disposable phones and sending her one. We could talk, but she will ask questions and worry about every move I make. I have to do what I have to do to ensure her family doesn’t ruin me and us. I need a level head, not an emotional one.
With my MacBook in my lap, I sit on my bed among the pink pillows, under the pink comforter that used to feel like my bed. It doesn’t anymore. I consider going to my family but if I do, I risk exposing my personal feelings for Reese. I could put a target on his back or at least paint it a little larger.
No.
I can’t go to my family. I can’t go to Reese. I just have to lay here in pink frilly everything and do nothing. An idea hits me. I don’t have to stop talking to Reese. I can send him a message in every column I write. One line. Something small. I stare at the column I’ve just completed, which is a piece about a recent police shooting. I look at the final few lines of my closing and rework them.
In a world where the lines between peace and war seem to have fallen, I suggest that we don’t seek to widen those lines. We look to erase all that divides us. And we can’t do that by blaming each other. We can’t do that by letting the press tell our story. We the people must come together and let no one else tell our story. We must tell our own story. Until then —Cat
It’s not perfect, but hopefully he reads between the lines. I’m not going to put a wall between us. Not now. Not ever.
I start my day reading Cat’s column and the message inside it for me: We tell our own story. In other words, her family doesn’t get to control us. She’s right. And the Maxwells will soon find that out.
I call Cat’s publisher as my first order of business. The agreement to release and promote this book after this conflict ends, is easy to resolve, especially when I agree to consult on a second book on Kelli Ward. Knowing they offered Cat a smaller fee for a second book, I negotiate Kelli’s book outside that contract and call Liz.
“You’re better at this than me,” she says. “I’ll call Cat.”
“Tell her to tell her family the book is on hold indefinitely. That’s important.”
“Understood.”
Next, I call Kent to my office and tell him everything. “How serious are you about this woman?”
I open my desk and set the Tiffany’s bag on the desk. “You? Married?” he gapes.
“Me. Married.”
“Okay then. I don’t know you anymore, but I’m going to help you help us.”
Hours later, Kent and I put our plan into action. I sit with Casey and Maria at the conference table. “I’m recording this for all of our protection,” I state. “Maria will read the legal disclosures.”
“Understood,” Casey states.
Maria proceeds and when she’s done, Kent begins. “When I filed the lawsuit on your behalf, I did not disclose the names of the parties I filed that lawsuit against to Reese.”
“In other words,” I say. “I had no idea that there was a conflict of interest between me and your case.”
Casey sits up straighter. “What conflict?”
“I was dating a woman who is the daughter, sister, and niece of three parties named.”
“Holy shit,” he says. “So you’re dropping me.”
“No,” I say. “I’m giving you the option to stay or go, but before you make that decision, I need to make you aware of all the facts. Cat Maxwell and I have stopped seeing each other until this is over. However, there was a press release yesterday that made a book deal public. I’m consulting on her true crime about the Ward case. Those interviews are complete and the release and press will be put off until after this conflict is resolved. The book is on hold. Additionally, Cat is estranged from her family anyway, and as far as I’m concerned, they treat Cat like shit. They deserve to be fucked to hell and back again.
“Then why stop seeing her?” Casey asks. “If you hate them, that’s in my best interest. I mean, if I was an excuse—”
“No. Cat is not going away. I need you to know that too. This break is to get us through this case. I’ve already gone after her family. They will come after me no matter what. I have to deal with them. What you need to know is that I’m the best at what I do.”
“I already know that, man,” Casey says. “I’m lucky as hell to have you as a friend on this case.”
“You can go elsewhere, but here’s the bottom line. If they screw up and don’t get you off, I’m recording you right now being told that this is your decision. The outcome of going elsewhere is your decision. I’m also telling you that I will work one hundred percent for you. I can’t promise you I will get you off, but nothing I’ve told you will be a factor, and to stay on this case, I need you to sign an agreement that you will not sue me or this firm over the outcome. The language will be lengthy and it will include full disclosure of everything I just told you.”
“Done,” he says. “I trust you. How can I not trust you? You left your woman for me.”
“I didn’t leave Cat. She left me because she’s that ethical.”
An hour later, he’s shaking my hand. “Don’t lose her over this.”
“I won’t,” I say and I mean it.
Since my family won’t take my calls, I march into the lobby of their offices, and I don’t bother to ask for entry. I walk right past the receptionist and down the hall.
“Cat,” my father’s secretary, Nancy, says. Nancy is blonde and gorgeous, of course. She’s probably fucking my father. That’s his thing. He, like Mitch, likes his secretaries. I walk right past her too and enter the office, opening the door to find my brothers present.
“Oh good. A Maxwell family reunion.” I shut the door. “Well, except for the youngest, who was smart enough to leave the city. I’d call him, but why bring him into this hell. Let him lead a happy life.”
My father, who I haven’t seen in months, looks good, not sick at all. His grey hair is thick, his complexion warm. His weight healthy as always. My brothers just look like assholes, one on either side of his desk. Twin assholes. “I told Reese Summer that we had a conflict. He immediately called my publisher and asked to back out of the consulting agreement thanks to that conflict of interest. For those of you who think my career sucks, that’s half a million dollars. Yes. More than my asshole brothers are probably making in a year with their fucking Harvard law degrees. Thank you. I love you all, too.”
“He’s suing us, Cat,” Reid says.
“His partner is suing you.”
“Semantics,” my father says.
“Well, now you can duke it out with him. He’s done with me and my book. I watched him in court. I hope you will all call me before you zip up those orange suits and at least say goodbye.”
I turn and walk out of the office and when I reach the elevator and punch the button, it’s with relief that it opens. I put on a show in there, but I felt every angry word. I step into the elevator and Gabe joins me just before we’re shut inside.
“A half million dollars.”
“Yes. I sold a lot of books with the last release and this time I had Reese on board. But it’s done now. I move on.”
“Put it off until this is over.”
“Why?” I demand, and then grind through harsh words I don’t want to speak. “We both know if you can ruin Reese Summer, you will. He’ll be worth nothing to me.”
“It might not end that way.”
And there it is. The confirmation. They are going after him, but at least I’ve been assured I’m not leverage.
“But it might and it doesn’t matter. I’m already talking to my publisher about another option with the prosecutor, though I hate that prick almost as much as I hate you right now.”
He reaches into his jacket and hands me the letter from our mother. “I’ve been carrying it around. I was going to bring it by, but I keep reading the damn thing. I’m on team Cat just like Mom. And I’m not being sued. I didn’t fuck up and get involved. For the record, I don’t think Dad knew what was going on either.”
“Reid?”
“He says he didn’t. I’m not sure. Uncle Rudolf. He knew. He’s the root of all of this.” The elevator dings and he adds, “Team Cat.”
I don’t reply. Gabe and I have a big wall to climb. The one my family put between me and Reese. I exit the car and I try to figure out how to tell Reese what is going on. I don’t want to put anyone in the middle. That means my column.
Hours later, I’m back in my pink-covered bed without Reese, writing my column. I find a case that fits perfectly. A woman accused of murder, but ultimately the uncle is now being questioned. I walk my audience through how the woman became the accused. In the end, I close simply: The uncle has yet to be charged, but I predict that that tide will turn, and he will soon be the defendant in a court case we will follow here with interest. Until then —Cat.
The message is there. Look at my uncle, who isn’t my uncle at all, and who my mother never liked. Now I know why. He’s trouble.
***
I start my morning at my coffee pot reading Cat’s column and I understand the message. Her uncle is trouble.
I am miserable, sitting in my overstuffed chair by my fireplace, with Ben and Jerry’s ice cream next to me after eating two last night while Lauren and Julie hung out here. I’m going to be buying new clothes if I keep this up and I don’t seem to care. Cherry Garcia, and my MacBook, are my friends. I love them. I need them. I worship them. Not really, but ice cream is a known substitute for sex per me, the expert, who is not having sex right now after having had the best sex of her life.
My cellphone rings and I grab it, hopeful that it’s Reese and this is over, but it’s not. It’s his mother. I answer with a reprimand. “I told you that you can’t call. It connects me to Reese.”
“I know,” she says. “But Reese told me he can’t talk to me right now. He has shut himself off. He’s completely focused on whatever he is doing.”
“He’s got a lot of plates in the air to juggle.”
“I know. Are you okay?”
“No, but I will be when this is over. You can’t call again.”
“I know, but he needs you. I feel it.”
“Thanks. I needed to hear that.”
“We will never have family get-togethers with your family. Just so we’re clear. Take care, honey.” She hangs up and I grab the remote to my fireplace and turn it on high. It’s cold and I’m chilled to the bone, which could be the ice cream, or maybe it’s all about my shitty family.
I start typing my column, which features a married couple, and a man who died saving his wife’s life only to have the family file a lawsuit against her for wrongful death. It’s an unheard of insane, first of its kind, case. My closing statement reads: What would you do for the one you love? What would you give up? This man sacrificed everything for his woman and not only did she lose the love of her life, she was tortured by his family, and this is torture. I hope they read this. I hope they can reach inside themselves and see that the pain they cause this woman doesn’t bring their family member back. It drives him deeper into his grave while the woman he loves, bleeds.
That closing wasn’t for Reese. It was for my fucked up family, who won’t even read it and doesn’t even know how much Reese means to me. If they did, they’d make him bleed.
I retreat to the kitchen of Lauren’s busy house, leaving her and Julie, a Marilyn Monroe look-a-like who I am coming to really like, and a cluster of Walker brothers and staff that overwhelm the place. I grab a bottle of water from the fridge and find the table empty. I claim a seat and set my phone on the table. It rings with my youngest brother, Daniel’s, number.
“Hey, Cat.”
“Hey,” I say. “Happy Turkey Day.”
“Happy Turkey Day. How are you?”
Considering I called him three weeks ago and told him everything about Reese, and the Maxwell family drama, we both know he’s not asking a generic question. “The same,” I say.
“No news at all?”
“Nothing. Are you with your girlfriend?”
“Yes. Heading to her family outing.”
My line beeps and the caller ID shows Gabe. “Go have fun. Gabe is calling, believe it or not.”
“Hell froze over and on Thanksgiving. We need to mark this on the calendar. Call me if you hear anything about anything and I will you, too. Take care, sis.”
He hangs up and I reluctantly answer Gabe’s call. “Hi Gabe.”
“Happy Thanksgiving.”
“Yeah thanks. Happy Thanksgiving to you, too.”
“I just wanted to tell you that you are missed today. You can still come over.”
“I’m at a friend’s house.”
“Right,” he says. “Okay. For the record, I love you.”
I blanch. “You love me?”
“This is where you say: ‘I love you, too, Gabe.’”
“I love you, too Gabe.”
“Good. Next time you say it first. I’m the macho guy remember?”
“Who likes to take bubble baths.”
“Hey. That’s a family secret. Don’t go spreading that around.”
We laugh and I actually enjoy talking to him. We disconnect and I’m about to go back to the party when Royce appears at the table and sets a phone in front of me. “It can’t be traced. Answer it when it rings.” He nods and backs away.
The phone rings and my heart flutters. “Hello.”
“Cat.”
Just hearing Reese’s voice, punches me with relief. “Is it over?”
“No. It’s not over, but it’s close.”
“How close?”
“Soon is all I can say, and I don’t want to talk about this. I want to just talk to you.”
“Where are you?”
“Home.”
“Home,” I repeat. “That place we used to share?” I don’t let him answer. “Who are you with?”
“I’m alone by choice. Cat, I need to know that you haven’t found ten reasons we aren’t good for each other.”
“Why would you even think that? I write to you in my column every day.”
“I know. I read it the minute I wake up.”
“Then how can you think that I’m not still with you?”
“Because I know you and you don’t know how I’m solving this and you can’t right now. I need to keep you away from it.”
“I don’t care what you do to end this as long as you don’t compromise who you are.”
“I’m doing what I need to do,” he says.
“You’re doing something you don’t want to do.”
“I’m doing what I hope we both still want. Making sure we end up together.”
“You’re worried that something you’re doing will push me away.”
“Yes. I am. Only time will tell.”
“You can’t push me away.”
“Challenge accepted.”
“Don’t say that.”
“Actually, I have to say it because if I can push you away, we weren’t real.”
Lauren’s words, which she has repeated every time she feels like I’m shutting down, come back to me. “Everyone wants to know love is real. I told Reese the same thing.”
“Reese—”
“I love you,” he says. “I’ll talk to you soon.”
He hangs up.