The Naked Man — Chapter 11

There is no way this is going to happen. It had taken a few minutes, but Kat’s brain had come out of its catatonic stupor. Now an inner monologue sped like a freight train through her head, creating a bullet list of reasons why this had been a mistake from the beginning. What was she thinking? Lisa had told her the straight story: a ‘B girl’ did the bitch work. But it wasn’t work no one else could do. It was work no one else would do. Kat chided herself for her foolishness in not connecting the dots: no one paid huge sums of money for a job without risk. What was it Jasmine had said? Any legal issues you encounter as a result of providing services are solely your responsibility. MJM will disavow any warranty or relationship between us.

Kat entered the diner and settled on a red stool at the counter, placing the bag on the footrest to her left. The waitress, a woman in a Pepto Bismol pink outfit, sauntered over.

“What can I get you?”

“Just coffee, thank you.”

The waitress, sensing a tip not worth smiling for, set down a saucer and cup and doled out the coffee without bothering to make eye contact.

Kat mumbled a “thank you” and left the coffee untouched. Plans B, C, and D were already forming in her mind. She slipped her phone out of her purse and held it. Make the call now. She would tell Jasmine she was heading back to the penthouse to return the bag. No, that was a bad idea. It would make MJM look bad; they had consultants they couldn’t control. No, she would go through with the pickup. Then she would call Jasmine later or first thing in the morning and decline to consult. Jasmine would get a replacement and Kat would never work there again. That’s fine with me.

Angel sat down on her left. “You got something for Angel, baby?” he asked, his voice low.

She gave a small nod as a shiver ran through her. She took hold of a sugar packet, compulsively shaking it, listening to the soft, ‘flap-flap’ sound it made.

He leaned to his right and picked up the bag. He tossed a few bills on the counter.

He regarded her for a moment, then leaned toward her as he slid off the stool. “Go big or go home, baby,” he whispered. “It’s your choice.”

He walked out.

Kat stayed for what seemed like a long time. She would call Jasmine and tell her it was off. Then she would call the employment agency and beg for an assignment. She would do better than that; she would call two or three agencies. She would make sure she was never without an assignment. She was an adult. An adult with ethics. Following someone to make a gift list was one thing. This was something else.

The waitress reappeared. “You want somethin’ else?”

Kat shook her head.

***

Exiting the subway, Kat was greeted by a biting chill in the night air. She hugged her coat tight around her as she turned the corner to her block. She hustled up the few stairs and shoved her key in the building door lock. She let out a sigh as she slipped inside, shutting out the cold. Turning the key in her door, she entered the darkened apartment, her eyes adjusting to the gloom. No sign of a man’s clothing.

She dumped her purse on the table and shucked off her pumps. She drew Philip’s envelope out of the purse, fingering it in her hands. Reaching out, she flipped the light switch. The envelope was closed with the seal glue, no extra tape, no “confidential” stamp across the seal. She could open it, hold the negatives up to the light, then replace the envelope. At least she would know what danger she was in. But if she didn’t look, then ignorance was her best defense, wasn’t it?

The choral sound of her cell phone made her jump, reminding her she had to make the call to Jasmine. She dropped the envelope back into her purse and grabbed her phone.

“Hello?”

“Hey, kitten, how’s my girl?”

“Dad! I’ve been trying to reach you and Mom for weeks! What’s happening? How are you? Is everything okay?”

“I’m fine, Katerina. I’m just fine.”

Katerina could see him, that same thin, plastic smile.

“How are you feeling?”

“Fit as a fiddle, precious.”

Kat smiled. Fit as a fiddle. Her father was probably one of ten men left in the world who used that expression. That and the word “nifty.”

“Daddy, can you put Mom on the phone? There’s something I want to talk to you both about.”

“I need to talk to you too, kitten.”

Kat paced with the phone at her ear. “Daddy, where are you? You sound so close.”

“That’s because I am close. I’m right outside your building. You want to open up and let your old man in?”

Pulling the phone away from her ear, Kat raced for the door and threw it open, making a beeline for the outside door. She hadn’t seen him or her mother when she came in. How had she missed them?

The glass panels of the door made her father appear like a visitor to a house of mirrors, distorting his face and body as well as the person next to him. Katerina threw open the door as he reached the top of the steps. She looked past him at the woman standing next to him.

“Dad . . . where’s Mom?”