CELEBRITY STATUS (The Kate Huntington mystery series #4) (27 page)

            “Shit, shit, shit!” Skip picked up his phone and punched in Cherise’s number. Rose sat down in his visitor’s chair.

            As soon as Cherise answered, he said without preamble, “This is your little surprise? You announce to the press you’ve got a new boyfriend, then give them the coy little line, ‘a girl doesn’t kiss and tell’.”

            “What? What are you talking about, Skip?”

            “Hot off the presses. ‘Ms. Martin’s publicist confirms she has a new beau.’ Then three paragraphs rehashing the same old shit, next to the picture of us from Merriweather, Then Bolton quotes you with the ‘a girl never tells’ line. I thought you fired that ass anyway.”

            “I did, but then I had second thoughts. He is one of the best publicists out there.”

            “No he’s not, Cherise. He’s a fuckin’ loose cannon!”

            “Don’t curse at me, Skip.”

            “I’ll curse at you all I want, Cherise. You’ve fucked up my life, and my family’s life. Again!”

            “Skip, that’s not what I told him to say. I told him to announce I had a new boyfriend and I gave him a fake name to give them.”

            “Then what’s with the ‘girl never tells’ line. Did you say that?”

            “Yeah, last year. When some reporter was trying to find out who I was dating. That’s why I went along with the fake romance with Johnny, because it kept the paparazzi from trying to find out who I was really seeing.”

            “So technically you had told them that before, but you weren’t saying it in this context, like he implied.”

            “I’m sorry. I’ll fix this. I promise.”

            “That scares me, Cherise. ’Cause every time you try to fix it, it gets worse.”

            “I
will
fix it this time. First, I’m going to fire Jim Bolton. Then I’m going to ruin him by telling the press exactly what he did. That I told him one thing, in an effort to clear up a misunderstanding that was causing my bodyguard and his family distress, and he told the press something different and made the situation worse, just to get the publicity. The jerk will never work again.”

            Skip didn’t say anything.

            “Skip, this isn’t my fault, but I will fix it.”

            “You do that, Cherise.” He hung up and went back to holding his head in his hands. “How am I going to explain this to Kate?”

            Rose couldn’t think of a good answer.

* * *

            When Kate came out of her last session of the day, Ben wasn’t sitting in her waiting room. Skip was. After the client was out the door, she went over to him and kissed his cheek.

            “Well, this is a pleasant surprise,” she said.

            Skip didn’t say anything. His expression was grim.

            Kate sat down next to him. “What’s wrong, Skip? The kids! My God, are the kids okay?”

            “Yeah, the kids are fine. Nobody’s hurt or anything,” he reassured her. “It’s, uh, a bad development, but not that kind of thing.”

            “Then what is it, sweetheart?” she asked. She took his hand in both of hers.

            “I... she...” He shook his head, not sure how to explain it succinctly, afraid of what her reaction would be.

            Trying to decipher what his words and expression meant, an improbable but terrible possibility flashed into Kate’s mind. She stopped breathing. “You and her... You didn’t sleep with her, did you?” she whispered.

            Skip looked at her, dumbfounded. “Of course not,” he said, then caught himself before he blurted out,
How could you think such a thing?
He had forfeited the right to say those words to her.

            He jumped up and started pacing. “Cherise tried to fix it with the press. She told Bolton to announce she had a new boyfriend and she gave him a fake name.” The words tumbled out as he circled the room, clenching his fists. “But the asshole only told the press the first part, then when they asked who the guy was, he misquoted her. ‘As Cherise has told you before, a girl doesn’t kiss and tell.’ So instead of putting to rest the rumor that she and I are lovers, he’s resurrected it.”

            Kate sat back in her chair and put her head against the waiting room wall. “And I suppose this has already made it into print,” she said, in that defeated voice he had never wanted to hear again.

            He stopped and looked at her from across the room. The washed-out gray of her eyes made his chest ache. He just nodded mutely, not sure he could trust his voice at that moment. He crossed the space between them and sat down beside his wife. Picking up her hand in his, he said, “Kate, I’m so sorry I brought this down on us.”

            “It’s not your fault, Skip,” she replied, but her voice was still flat.

            “Maybe not, but I should be able to fix it, and I can’t. I feel so damned helpless.”

            The touch of anguish under the anger in his voice galvanized her. She sat up and turned toward him, squeezing the hand that was holding hers. “Sweetheart, this is one of those better or worse moments.
You
don’t have to fix it.
We
will deal with it together.”

            Her words helped, but only a little.

            “Rob had a suggestion a couple weeks ago,” Kate continued. “That we should go on a vacation once this case was resolved. I’m thinking we should do a modified version of that idea and go away for the weekend. Get out of town for a few days and hopefully the paparazzi will lose interest.”

            Skip nodded. “That’s not a bad idea. You and the kids should go somewhere, tonight if you can afford to cancel your appointments for tomorrow.”

            “I have a client at eleven that I have to see. She’s been suicidal lately and just got out of the hospital. I can cancel my afternoon clients though. They’re all in pretty good shape at the moment. But I’m not going anywhere without you. I’m not sure you realize how much all this is stressing you out. You’re just focused on protecting us.”

            “I’m okay,” he said as he stared into space, his mind still frantically searching for a way to fix the problem.

            Kate reached up and turned his face toward her. She tenderly smoothed back the hair that flopped onto his forehead as he looked down at her. “Sweetheart, you’re not okay. Normally I see your jaw tighten maybe once a month. Lately it’s more like once or twice a day, and some days it’s clenched nonstop most of the day. You need a break from all this, and another round of being hounded by the paparazzi strikes me as an excellent excuse for all of us to get out of town for awhile.”

            Skip gave in, mainly because he didn’t want to cause her more stress from worrying about him. “Okay, you talked me into it.”

            They arrived home to discover that the fresh deluge of paparazzi had not yet materialized.

            Kate had hoped to get everything packed that evening so they could get away soon after noon the next day, before other weekend travelers hit the road. But by the time she had called her clients to reschedule appointments and had gotten the kids’ things packed up, it was bath and story time.

            Skip had been unnaturally quiet all evening. He had called around and, miraculously, found two adjoining rooms with a private bath at a bed and breakfast in Thurmont, a town in the foothills of the Allegheny Mountains in western Maryland. But other than reporting his success to Kate, he had said very little.

            While he was tucking the children in, Kate pulled suitcases out of the back of their closets. She tossed a few things in them, then went into the bathroom to pack her toiletries.

            When she came out, Skip was lying on top of the comforter on his side of the bed, his forearm draped across his face. She knelt beside the bed and kissed his elbow. He didn’t react. “Sweetheart,” she said softly. “I think we deserve an early bedtime tonight. I can finish packing tomorrow after I get home.”

            She expected him to make some suggestive comment, or at the very least turn his head and grin at her, but he just nodded without moving his arm from his eyes.

            Kate went to check on the children and secure the house for the night. When she came back, Skip had dropped his clothes on the floor and had slid between the sheets. His eyes were closed but she knew he wasn’t asleep. She quietly got undressed and slipped in beside him, turning onto her side and gently nudging his hip with her butt. As she expected, he turned and draped an arm around her waist, pulling her snug up against him.

            They lay there, spooned together, for several minutes. When he made no further move, she listened for his breathing to slow into the pattern of sleep. It didn’t. He was still awake.

            Finally she turned over to face him. “Skip–”

            Misunderstanding the source of the worry in her eyes, he interrupted, “Sh, sh, it’ll be okay.” He kissed her forehead. “The dust probably will have settled by the time we get back on Sunday.”

            Kate ran her hand down his side, sliding past the ticklish spot just above his hip. His skin quivered slightly but still he made no move to kiss her. She considered tickling him, but was afraid to find out that this would not solicit the normal response either.

            “I’m okay, Kate,” he finally said, reading her thoughts. “I just need to get some sleep.”

           
No you’re not okay
, a voice screamed inside her head. She’d never seen Skip withdraw into himself like this. “Okay,” she said out loud, then kissed him tenderly. “I love you, Skip Canfield.”

            He gave her a small smile. She tried to hide her surprise at this minimal reaction. Rolling back over, she snuggled against him again.

            “I love you too,” he whispered into her hair, wrapping his arm around her waist again.

            A long time later, she felt the arm relax and heard his breathing slow. But the knowledge that her husband was clinically depressed kept Kate awake for another hour, before fatigue finally overrode anxiety.

CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO

            Skip kept his mind occupied the next morning with the need to tie up loose ends at work so he could leave early. At eleven-ten, he was staring at the application form for the renewal of the agency’s license, trying to decide if it could wait until next week, when Rose appeared in his office doorway. She had papers under her arm and the grimmest look he had ever seen on her face. Her back-up slipped past her into the office. Dolph settled into the visitor’s chair. Mac moved over to lean against the opposite wall.

            “I’ve got four of our men headed for the house and Ben’s been alerted,” Rose said first.

            Skip sat back in his chair and stared at the ceiling, gritting his teeth. They couldn’t even get out of town before something else happened.

            “Tell me,” he said, without lowering his eyes.

            Rose didn’t answer him right away.

            “Just tell me, damn it.”

            “Pics of you and Cherise at the farm, outside as we were leaving. Her grabbing your arm as you’re turning away. Her air kiss, that looks like she’s trying to kiss you and you’re pulling back. Then when she ran toward the truck to rescue the kittens. Together, looks like the two of you are having a lovers’ spat. Story to match.”

            Skip stared at the ceiling for another moment. The thoughts tumbling through his mind, thoughts of doing violence–to the paparazzi, to himself–scared him. Leaning forward, he carefully removed his gun from its waistband holster with two fingers and set it on his desktop, then gave it a push. It skittered across the surface in Dolph’s direction. “Hold on to that for the time being,” he said to the older man, then crossed his arms on the desk and lowered his head onto them.

            After a minute, he said, without raising his head. “Call Cherise. Tell her not to try to fix it. Who knows how they’ll twist whatever she says.”

            Rose nodded to Mac. He left the room to make the call.

            “I’m driving you home,” Rose said. Skip didn’t protest.

            Dolph held out the gun, butt first, toward Rose, not sure what to do with it. Rose shook her head. Dolph opened the revolver, emptied it of bullets and put it in his pocket.

            Skip finally stood up and moved toward the door. Rose followed him. “You and Mac bring Skip’s truck to the house for him,” she said quietly as she passed the older man. Dolph nodded.

* * *

            Now the paparazzi were out in force. They descended on the Expedition when it pulled up in front of the house, Mac at the wheel. Dolph parked behind him.

            Mac and Dolph had briefly discussed strategy before leaving the office. Dolph had pointed out that Mac was putting his license to carry a gun and maybe even his private investigator’s license in jeopardy, especially since he was still in the two-year provisional period required of anyone who was not previously a detective in law enforcement. Mac’s reply had been that he didn’t give a damn. He wasn’t going to allow those asshole reporters to upset Kate and the kids.

            They joined the two big men standing guard at the front of the property. The other two were behind the house, making sure no reporters tried to sneak across a neighbor’s yard.

            Mac raised his arms in the air. The crowd gradually fell silent, as one by one, they noticed the Glock in one of his hands.

            Dolph saw vans from the mainstream media, Channels 2 and 13, pull up. This was not good. Mac was going to suffer for this for sure, but Dolph decided to stand with the man. Hell, he always had his police pension to fall back on.

            Mac yelled, “Listen up. Official press release. The Canfields are going on vacation.” He lowered his voice and growled, “Turn off the mikes and cameras. Now.” After a long pause, the reporters nodded to their assistants and camera people.