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As they disappeared out the sliding glass door, I returned my attention to Asher. “Really… Thank you for getting a team to Catie’s house so fast. If I can’t be there, I’m glad you have security on call for her.”
“The two men I sent over are the same guys that showed up when we needed a protective crew after your dad…”
He didn’t finish because he knew that time still rubbed me raw. I shrugged it away. “We need a plan to get her here. We’ve already proved that my place is less vulnerable. I’ve got plenty of room to set up a home office for her, so she can keep working. I know that’s important to her, and she has deadlines.”
“Agreed. I’ve already talked to Carrie and Bad Dog has agreed to rent a small moving van to get her gear and her.”
“Why rent? Why don’t they use one of their vans?”
“Aside from the fact they are all branded with some form of Bad Dog Music on their license plates, they are also logoed with decals. Pretty sure you don’t want some photographer staking out the BD garage and following them. Easiest way to determine who Catie is.”
“Damn. Didn’t think about that.”
“That’s why you pay me a percentage. Because you know I think things through.” He cleared his throat. “I’ve got the communication team working on preparing different statements for different scenarios, where Catie gets outed despite our best efforts. Is there anything in her past that might make our job more difficult?”
“I don’t think so. I know she’s divorced. Sounds like her husband cheated on her. Can’t fault her for his shitty judgment.” The guy was a prize asshole, in my opinion. “I Googled her before our photoshoot, and other than a couple social media sites that are business only, I didn’t find anything personal for her.”
“Good. Makes our job easier.” I pictured Asher nodding his head as he continued, “Okay, I’ll finalize a couple things on my end, then get back to you and Catie both with a plan. Probably set it up as a video call, if that’s okay.”
I should have thought to Facetime Catie myself, just to be sure she was okay. She sounded calm while we were talking, but there is no substitute for being able to see someone’s eyes or expression to determine their emotional state.
After I hung up with Asher, I stared at my phone for a long minute, then stowed it in my back pocket. Outside, James yelled for Elvis, then laughed. It seemed so normal, in the midst of the most fucked up situation I’d ever dealt with. Not to mention, memories of a similar situation when my dad had been killed trotted through my brain like Clydesdales—heavy, thudding, bone-jarring.
I reached for my other phone and tapped out a text.
Me: Hey Dad. I know you hate me whining but damn, my life is all over the place. That woman I told you about…Turns out I love her. And I may have fucked up her life because of that. Remember how shitty things got after your accident? Yeah- that fucked up again. Wish you were here to guide me through this. Love you, Dad. Miss you every damn day.
Me: PS—Sorry about the language.
I pressed send, then turned the phone face down on the counter. My work phone was blowing up with texts and emails. Honest to God, my pants practically buzzed, but not in a good way.
I fished the device back out and plopped my ass on a stool.
There were six emails and two texts from Carrie. Her first text expressed sympathy that I was going through this again, but she’d made a point of saying it was about damn time I found someone I liked enough to move on, even if it had awoken the paparazzi, who’d acted as one would expect, like rabid, starving coyotes.
Her second text was just to tell me to check my email. Arrangements had been made to get Catie to my place and the safety it offered.
I immediately flipped to my email account and found the details. Carrie had copied Catie, Asher and James on the email, effectively starting the ball rolling. Catie had already replied with a, “Sounds good, I’ll be ready.”
Carrie had pulled some strings with the kid I’d met from Contracts, Barry, to pick Catie up in a vehicle with blacked out windows. Apparently, Barry’s side gig was as a DoorDash driver. He’d deliver Catie and dinner, to make it clear that hey–nothing’s going on here. Nothing to see. Move the fuck along.
Like that was going to happen.
I replied to the email, thanking Carrie for her clever and swift solution. While I was typing out that message, James and Elvis came inside. James refilled the dog’s water bowl. I shoved the phone back into my back pocket.
Elvis lapped up a drink and spilled a good portion of it on the waterproof mat Catie had insisted I buy when I adopted the pup.
“All clear outside,” James said when I looked up from my phone. “Hey, you okay?”
He must have seen in my face that I most certainly was not.
“I hate this shit. Hate every damn second of it.”
“It won’t last.” He dropped onto the stool across from me.
“She must be terrified. All I want to do is get her here and make sure she’s okay. I’ve fucked this up so bad.”
“Or maybe you didn’t. I saw the email, and Catie’s response didn’t come across as panicked at all. That woman has a great head on her shoulders. She’s going to be okay. You both are gonna be okay, and on your thirty-fifth wedding anniversary, I’m going to be there to say I told you so.”
