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Then she turns away from me. “Scamper!” And she does. This one doesn’t think a lot of things through. “How are you getting around there, Missy?” I hold up a key to a golf cart. I have one of my own but this will get her to me more efficiently than her randomly wandering around.
“Thank you for stealing my personal property. Where’s the wine? You owe me if you drank it.”
I gesture to the ornate lobby, “First of all, free trip to Hawaii. We’re even on the wine.” I take her phone and hold it up to her face to unlock it. I put myself in her contacts and hand it back to her. “You have twenty-six missed calls from someone named ‘Her?’”
“My mother. I’m in hiding. She didn’t know about Utah.”
“She’ll never find you at the Kea Lani Fairmont. You have your way of hiding, and I have mine.” She flips me off. I cross my heart and say, “my darling.”
“King of My World, seriously?”
“Yes, my queen,” I say as I pull out a diamond and slip it onto her finger. Her snark disappearing as she stares at it.
“If I knew all it took to shut you up would be a diamond, I might have given you one ages ago.” She holds her hand up and does the girl thing of admiring it. “Don’t lose it. “ The dreamy look on her face drops.
“Asshole. I’ll see you later.” And she scampers off blowing me a kiss.
“Coffee, bacon, and I will be waiting.”
She yells behind her, “Thank you, my King.”
Chapter 14
Um. Yes, I’m her
KAT
Maui
I run through the shops grabbing clothing my mother would wear and toss in a new pair of shoes and earrings for me. I charge it all to John C. Jackson IV’s villa. Again, there might be something to his way of hiding.
I carefully place my packages on the floor and peel out in my golf cart. I only get lost once. Our villa is a good ten-minute walk from his parents. That’s a nice buffer so we don’t have to do the chit chat thing.
I snap a couple of pictures for my secret account from the oceanside cart path. They need no filter and I post immediately.
A woman who I can only assume is Birdie in hot pink and green flowered pants that could have been plucked from my mother’s closet, is frantically waving at me. She throws some woman in a cute blue uniform in front of my cart. Maybe a maid, not sure. I stop short right in front of her.
She awkwardly moves her arm as if she’s trying to clear the air in front of her. I paste on my cotillion smile and hope for the best. She speaks with her hands clasped over her heart.
“Oh my dear. Are you her?”
“I hope you haven’t stopped too many other women. You must be Mrs. Jackson.” I extend my hand. “I apologize. I must look a fright.” She hugs me with a very nondescript pat on the back. It’s her best way of showing how relieved she is I exist. It’s sweet and I’m in hell.
“You look top notch, just aces. He’s kept you such a secret. I thought for a moment you might not be real.”
Ha Ha. I’m not. You raised an arrogant, egotistical, albeit good-looking jackass thief and I’m just lying at his behest. Nice to meet you!
“I assure you I’m real and delighted to be here.”
Her voice is earnest, her face skeptical. “Dear, what’s your name? You know he’s even kept that. Probably because my Jack has a habit of doing background checks.”
A lilting feminine laugh to attempt to make me believe she isn’t serious. My mother has the same laugh. My father, the same habit.
“Let me save you time and money. I’m Kat Taylor. I just left a job at a popular lifestyle magazine in New York. I have an opportunity to get in on the ground floor of a new gallery in conjunction with the Fisher family...”
That’s a lie right out of my ass. Damn, that was fun. Fisher family is a lie but gallery, sure, Ginny will let me sit at the desk and smile at people. It really is my only job prospect since I spill, drop everything, and can’t sing or teach so the Little Bird Pub & Strawberry Face Art and Music school are out.
I continue, “I’m 32, never married. Two long-term relationships, one ended by me, one ended by him. I grew up in Rhinebeck, New York. I graduated from Bard and I’ve been in New York City about a decade.” Staten Island is technically still New York City. The key to lying, keep it close to the truth.
