So what precisely did that make me?
″You′re an idiot, Kate; that′s what you are. A fool, un estupido,″ I muttered out loud. ″You were just an easy port of call for Jonathan. A no-stress lay. Dammit dammit dammit…″
I′d made everything so easy for him. I′d been so-o Miss Independence with my TV news career, never pressing to know where our relationship was headed. I′d never asked, because I hadn′t known where I was headed myself, ca reerwise. It had never occurred to me that I was just the right type of woman for a man who wasn′t looking for a permanent relationship. That I was an easy target for a liar.
That′s when the anger broke loose. No crying yet-that would undoubtedly come later.
″A liar, that′s what you are,″ I yelled at the phone.
As Elfie jumped and skittered from the room, I added, ″You′re a moldy-faced, stinking liar, Jonathan. I trusted you!″
In the wake of that outburst, cold fingers of nausea moved into my stomach, probing its edges. They worked their way slowly up my throat muscles. Then a wrenching spasm turned my insides out. I stumbled in the direction of the bathroom.
I spent the next couple of minutes retching my guts out into the toilet. There wasn′t much to come up-even though I′d been up since three a.m., I hadn′t eaten anything since the night before.
When my stomach was empty, I dry heaved a couple of times. Then I rested my throbbing forehead against the lid. I was already totally exhausted, and the day had barely started.
Something soft and sinewy brushed against my cheek. I lifted my head from the toilet and saw Elfie peering into my face.
Raising her right front paw in the air, my cat mewed and gently touched my cheek.
″What′s wrong with you?″ she was obviously saying in cat-speak.
″Well, Elfie,″ I said, stroking her back. ″It′s nice to know that someone still loves me.″
Now that she had my attention, Elfie sat back on her haunches and began grooming her long, drooping white whiskers. She always looked like a walrus when she did that.
Gazing down at my kitty, I felt engulfed by a wave of tenderness. It was an emotion that reminded me that once, I had dared to let myself dream about having children with Jonathan. I′d felt certain that he would be an amazing father.
Well, that dream was now officially dead. The anger and nausea receded and a new emotion-sadness-engulfed me. It was more than sadness, really.
That′s when the tears began to flow. They built until, volumewise, the downpour of earlier that day was a mere sprinkling by comparison.
When Evelyn described the four cycles of love at the Newbodies meeting, she′d forgotten to mention a cycle.
She′d forgotten the cycle called grief.
Chapter 14
To Knock him Dead, Wear Red
The color red drives men wild, scientists have discov-
ered. A study by psychologists at the University of
Rochester revealed that the color red makes men feel
more amorous toward women. And here′s the best
thing-the study suggests that men are totally un-
aware of the role that color plays in their attraction.
For centuries, rosy hues have been associated with the rituals of love and carnal desire, from Valentine′s Day hearts to red-light districts. In the study, men were more attracted to pictures of women when they had a red border around them, or when they wore a red shirt, than they were to pictures of the same woman with borders or shirts of different colors.
Evidently there is a biological basis for the aphro- disiacal effect of red-in the wild, male primates are also attracted to females displaying red, which increases in females around the time of ovulation.
So, gals, take advantage of this little beauty secret.
If you want your date to drool over you at dinner,
break out your best red dress or sweater. While you′re
at it, add a pair of red shoes!
– From The Little Book of Beauty Secrets by Mimi Morgan
I arrived at the Channel Twelve studios just before ten a.m. Thursday morning, clutching a light latte that I′d picked up on the way. I trudged on autopilot from the parking structure to the newsroom, almost unaware of my surroundings. My emotions were too busy reeling from the blows of Jana′s death and Jonathan′s betrayal. The only thing I had left in my emotions bank was an overdraft.
The newsroom was suspended in its morning lull between the end of the morning report and the ramp-up to the midday news. Reporters were scattered about shooting the bull or hunched over newspapers. The one person who appeared to be actually working was the summer intern, whose job it was to monitor breaking news. She was sitting in a swivel chair making notes in front of a bank of screens that were tuned to cable TV stations.
I scanned the whiteboard. To my relief, I saw that I hadn′t been assigned to work on anything yet that day. All I needed to do was make a few calls before getting back to the hospital to check on Shaina.
″Tell the desk not to put me on anything today. I′m here today, but not really,″ I announced to Rob, the studio director. He was dubbed Jumpy Rob for the way he constantly ejected from his seat in the control room while screaming camera directions into his headset.
Rob didn′t even look up from the TelePrompTer scripts he was laying out on a large desk in the middle of the bullpen.
″Gallagher, here today but not really,″ he echoed. ″Doing a little legwork on your bikini story, are you?″
″It′s not a bikini story,″ I retorted. ″I′m doing a five-part series about weight-loss scams.″
″But the bikini′s the money shot.″ He bent his head low to sniff at a page of script. ″What′s this?″
Picking up the script between two disdainful fingers, he demanded of the newsroom at large, ″Someone calls this an intro?″
As Rob crumpled the offending intro into a ball and tossed it into a trash can, I trudged across the carpeted floor to my cubicle and threw my purse at the desk. My aim was off, and it thumped against the cubicle wall.
″Hey!″ Crystal protested from the other side of the wall. ″You made me spill my double espresso. ″
Crystal is a former public defender who traded in her attorney briefs for an on-air career as a legal reporter. The camera loves her quartz gray eyes and caramel complexion. She′s the only one of us who dares to go on the air without foundation.
Poking her head over the cubie wall, Crystal said, ″Bad day already?″
Then taking a look at my face, she added, ″Uh-oh. We′ll talk as soon as I finish this script.″
I couldn′t muster a reply as I checked my cell phone messages. One from Evelyn was marked urgent. She said there was going to be a gathering of the Newbodies later that day in the Duke Forest. The Newbodies were going to have a Memory Ceremony to honor Jana.
Frank poked his head into my cube. Frank′s my favorite videographer. He′s only five foot six, but he′s got the muscled shoulders and bulldog stance of a heavyweight.
″I′ve been looking for you, Kate,″ he said. ″What the heck happened between you and Lainey last night? The overnight crew said she was stomping around this morning, claiming you made her screw up her carjacking story. She says you told the police not to speak to her.″
Stifling a grin, he added, ″Beatty was all over her ass because we got scooped by news radio.″
″A friend of mine was killed in that carjacking, ″ I replied. ″Lainey and her scoop can go piss in the goddamn wind as far as I′m concerned.″
Frank′s expression turned serious. ″I′m really sorry to hear about your friend,″ he said. ″I heard there were two victims. I heard that on the radio, mind you.″