“Pfft. No,” Chris scoffed. “I went a block up and got a street taco a few hours ago. I didn’t know you’d take so long, though, or I would have grabbed two. And if I’d have known that you were going to attack me, I probably would have gotten a cold soda for my nose. Or an ice pack.”
Kate ushered him to a bench on the sidewalk, and they sat. “Start over. Why are you here?”
Chris looked at her, and Kate’s heart skipped a beat. With a bruise starting to form around his eye and blood trickling from his nose, he still had the most intense stare she had ever encountered. “I wanted to apologize for acting the way I did. I shouldn’t have turned on you like that, and I feel badly about it.”
“I appreciate that,” Kate touched his hand gently. “But you didn’t have to wait outside my office for eleven hours to tell me that, you know. You could have e-mailed. Texted. Whatever.”
Chris laughed and winced at the pain, touching his nose gingerly. “Yeah, well, there’s more. I’m supposed to take a job in Seattle next week, but until then, I want to stay here. Make sure you’re safe.” Embarrassed, he shrugged and looked away. “As a friend, you know? I’m just not going to abandon you because O’Bannon is too cheap to make sure you’re taken care of.”
Kate raised her eyebrows. “You don’t think I can take care of myself?”
“I know you can. The nose knows,” he added, pointing at his still trickling nose. “But hey, I thought maybe…I don’t want to leave with us on bad terms, Kate. So I thought maybe if you’d let me crash on your couch until I leave for Seattle, I can pay you back by keeping an eye out for this Wash guy. It’s a win-win for both of us. What do you say?”
“I think you’re a good friend,” Kate smiled. “And it sounds good to me. What kind of job do you have waiting in Seattle?”
“Some trust fund kid, fresh out of college and trying to make himself look more important than he is with a bodyguard.” Chris shook his head. “It’s going to be a rough one. Boring, I mean. I’ll end up being a prop in his Instagram posts instead of actually protecting him. I don’t even know what he’s afraid of. He’s twenty-two and his net worth isn’t quite worth kidnapping him.”
“You don’t sound that excited about it.”
“I’m not. It’s a job, though. Hopefully he gets tired of playing Whitney Houston quickly and I can move onto something with more meat.” He rolled his eyes and turned to Kate. “What about you, how was your day?”
As they walked back to Kate’s apartment, they talked. Kate described the new novel she was reviewing, and to her delight Chris was familiar with the author. They discussed literary themes and tropes, drawn closely together, as dusk settled into the city around them.
“Whoa,” Chris said suddenly, stopping short. His mouth drew into a thin line, and he put an arm out to stop Kate.
“What’s wrong?” the words died on Kate’s lips as she followed his gaze. A fire truck and what looked like a half dozen cop cars surrounded her building, lights flashing against the deepening blue of the evening. “Chris.”
Chris looked at her, and she saw fear in his eyes. It made her heart jolt. If he’s scared, I should probably be scared, too, she thought. They hurried their pace, each privately listing possible scenarios that would include so many official vehicles. When they reached the sidewalk, Kate jogged to Matty, her next door neighbor and the first familiar face she saw, while Chris spoke to a cop. Matty was smoking a cigarette near a cop car, looking around with a bored amusement, eyes twinkling behind his thick black frames.
“Hey, Burt,” Matty greeted her. He called everyone by their last names, it was just one of the law student’s many quirks. “You missed the drama, girl.”
Kate took his proffered hug quickly and smiled absently. “What drama? What’s going on?”
Matty took another drag of his cigarette and shrugged, blowing a cloud of smoke out of the side of his mouth. “I mean, I don’t know exactly what happened. Either some genius pulled the fire alarm, or some psycho left his burners on and almost destroyed the whole damn building. Either way,” he gave Kate a sly sidelong look “now the whole joint is crawling with hot firefighters.”
Kate gasped, hand on her chest. “There was a fire?”
“Probably. Like I said, I don’t know for sure. I was getting my meditation on when this all went down. One minute I’m nearly achieving nirvana, the next I’m shielding myself from the sprinklers.”
Chris joined Kate and Matty. “Fire chief said it looks like it might have been a prank gone wrong, but not arson.” He squeezed Kate’s shoulder. “Officer Podeco is here, so they’re fully aware of your situation.”
Matty leaned forward, curiosity wafting off him more densely than the cigarette smoke. “What’s your situation? And who is this?”
Kate stammered, unsure how to answer either question. Chris swooped in to save her. Assuming a stern expression and straightening his shoulders, he responded, “I’m Chris Taylor, Ms. Burt’s private security. Someone left a flaming bag on her doorstep a few nights back after she received some credible threats at the paper. There’s some real sickos out there, you know?”
Matty was fascinated. “Ew, a flaming bag? How 90s,” he squealed. “Why didn’t I know about this, Burt? You could’ve, like, given me a heads up. Maybe I could help,” he offered. “I’m not a lawyer yet, but my dad is. And he knows, like, a bunch of them.”
Kate shook her head helplessly. “I should have told you, I’m sorry. Everything was just so crazy, you know-”
“I’m surprised the sprinklers didn’t go off then, too,” Matty brushed his hair away from his face dramatically, tossing his head. “All my stuff is probably ruined,” he lamented. “I have, like, a million cashmere sweaters that are all gross and soggy now. Did you know we have sprinklers in our closets?”
Kate did a double take. “What?”
“Yeah. I think it’s to, like, discourage people from growing weed in there or something with those shitty grow lights.” Matty shrugged and crushed his cigarette beneath his heel. “Freaking weird, right? As if anyone who needed to sell weed could afford to live here.” He chuckled.
Kate barely heard him. She turned and hurried through the door, which was propped open. She ignored the elevator, already marked by caution tape, and raced up the stairs. Under her bare feet, the floor squelched with every step she took. Water slickened the surface, and Kate nearly fell more than once.
“Kate!” She heard Chris behind her, calling her name. She didn’t stop, holding onto the railing and pulling herself up as much as running. Her heart was pounding in her chest, and each beat felt like a hollow knock coming from inside her ribcage. After rushing up what seemed like fifty floors, Kate slowed, her breaths ragged and her side aching. She bent over on the landing two floors below hers, gasping and shaking.
“Kate!” Chris caught up with her, eyes full of concern. “What’s wrong?” He brushed her cheek with his thumb. “Don’t take this the wrong way, but there wasn’t really anything irreplaceable in your apartment, was there? You didn’t have any pictures up or anything. I mean, it’s just stuff. And I’m sure it’s fine. Okay?”
Kate opened her mouth to speak, then reconsidered. How can I tell him my first concern was for a wedding dress? How sad would that be? She bit her lip before forcing a smile, replying through her panting, “No, you’re right. I don’t know why I panicked. I guess I just wanted to get up here and see the damage to the place.”
Chris nodded sympathetically. He put a hand on her back and helped her up the last couple flights, glancing at her often to make sure she was calming down. When they reached her door, Kate took a breath and paused with her key turned, braced for the worst. The sight of her apartment exactly as it had been that morning confused her momentarily, and she listened closely, waiting to hear the dripping of water that never came. She turned to Chris, who looked puzzled.
“If I’m being honest, I was lying when I said it would be fine. I didn’t expect this. It looks like
your sprinklers didn’t even turn on,” he walked over to the coffee table in the living room and ran a hand over its surface. “Bone dry,” he murmured, showing Kate his palm.
“Why?” Kate leaned against a wall, arms crossed, trying desperately to appear as though she wasn’t itching to run to her closet and examine the dress for damage. For it to have lived a half-life in her closet before she could donate it and give it a new beginning would be a terrible thing.
“I don’t know. But I think we should tell the cops about it.” He started towards the door when Officer Podeco walked in.
“Well, I guess since you raced in here without waiting for the go-ahead, you already know,” she said in a scolding tone that made Kate feel guilty.
“Why isn’t there any water damage?” Chris cut right to the chase. “It’s like her sprinklers didn’t even turn on.”
“They didn’t,” Podeco said simply. Her eyes traveled up Chris’s body, and she gave a slight nod of appreciation. “Mm. Nope, Ms. Burt’s water was shut off, all of it. Even the emergency water main, obviously, and that’s a completely separate system. I don’t suppose you did that yourself, Ms. Burt?”
Kate shook her head, the cold realization of what Podeco was saying settling in. “No, I didn’t,” she said quietly.
“That’s what I figured.” Podeco nodded. “So, given what we know about your stalker situation, we’ll have two uniforms parked out front all night, keeping an eye on the place. We’ve got this Wash guy’s picture circulating. Keep in mind, though, that this could be some sort of very strange coincidence. It’s unlikely that the fire was an actual attempt at arson, and if it was, it was very poorly planned.”
“Can you tell us what exactly started the fire?” Kate asked.
Podeco shook her head. “Unfortunately, no, not while this fire is still under investigation. But rest assured, ma’am, we’ll have officers right on the street for the night. And, luckily for you, since you’re on the top floor, the water damage to the rest of the building won’t really affect you too much.” She gave Chris and Kate a brisk nod, and walked out.
Chris wrapped his arms around Kate. “Well, we’ve got the NYPD looking out for you, so that’s something. And I’m going to be right here all night, too, okay? Not in your bed,” he clarified, seeing the hesitation in Kate’s face. “No more of this running before we walk stuff. I’ll be out here, just keeping an eye out. You get some sleep. And tomorrow,” Chris swallowed, gathering up his nerve. “I’d love to take you out somewhere to get your mind off all this. Maybe one of those fancy food breweries I’ve heard about.” Kate laughed. “What do you say?”
“Yes, of course. That would be great, Chris,” Kate smiled. Chris held out his arms, and Kate leaned into his embrace, sighing. She closed her eyes and for a moment thought of nothing except the warm, safe feeling of Chris holding her in his strong arms.
They said goodnight, and Kate, exhausted from the multiple adrenaline rushes that evening, was looking forward to bed. Despite what had been an undoubtedly rough day, she felt good. Her heart was light, and she felt optimistic. She and Chris could be friends, if nothing else, and that wasn’t bad at all. She enjoyed his company, and if there was a chance of them being something more than friends, maybe they would find out tomorrow. Either way, Kate thought, I feel good. I have a lot to feel good about: my apartment was spared any damage, work is going well, and I knocked a grown man to his knees all by myself today. I’d be lying if I said that wasn’t a huge confidence booster.
Kate stretched, yawning, and her good feeling dissipated when she caught her reflection in the full length mirror on her closet door. She remembered her panic over the state of her old wedding dress, panic that she now realized was unfounded, and not just because the sprinklers hadn’t turned on. I don’t need it anymore, she realized. Kate closed the bedroom door softly behind her, and straightened her shoulders.
Tonight is the night, she thought firmly. I have to. I’m ready. She took a deep breath and opened the closet, reaching past the rows of clothes on hangers to grab the crisp white garment bag. It was heavy, and she used both hands to ease it out, laying it reverently on her bed. Unzipping the bag slowly, Kate grimaced, her stomach clenched in worried anticipation. And then…there it was, right in front of her. The pretty white dress she had only ever tried on, and never properly worn.
Kate paused, waiting for the sharp pangs of sadness or guilt to stab at her, but they never came. The dress was just a dress. A beautiful dress, sure, but it wasn’t the beautiful marriage she had expected with Aiden, and it wasn’t the beautiful life she had shared with him up until the day he died. It was just a dress, and Kate shook her head in wonder that she had clung to it with such blind devotion for so long, afraid of what might happen to her if she looked directly at it.
She ran a hand gently over the delicate lace and was pleasantly surprised when even touching it didn’t trigger a tsunami of emotions. “Aid, I think I might finally be moving on,” she whispered, still disbelieving. Boldly, she scooped up the dress and held it in the air, still expecting sadness to overwhelm her at any moment. Instead, a small square of paper fluttered out from the dress and to the floor. Kate laid the gown on the bed and bent down to pick up the paper, stopping short and her breath catching in her throat when she saw what it was.
It was her. Kate, in her wedding dress, smiling. “My bride face,” Kate recalled, stunned. Aiden had put the picture in with her dress, so she would find it on their wedding day. She picked up the picture with trembling hands, a tear spilling down her cheek. Her last, seemingly insurmountable, hurdle of facing her wedding dress had been overcome, and she had gotten the sign she needed. The picture felt to Kate like a gift from Aiden, a final goodbye. Turning it over, she saw an inscription in Aiden’s bold writing: To Kate- happy first day of the rest of your life! Love, Aiden
Kate kissed the message gently. “Thank you, Aid,” she whispered as the grief she had carried for too long fell away from her, like ashes off a phoenix. She took a deep breath and let herself fall onto the bed, asleep almost before her head hit the pillow.
23
Chris whistled as he scrambled the eggs, Kate’s kitchen alive with the sounds of popping grease and clattering utensils. Chris caught toast on a plate as it popped up and flipped a pancake in the pan. He felt at home in any kitchen, and thought again about Kate’s suggestion that he try to find work in a New York restaurant. He popped a handful of M&Ms into his mouth, thinking, to be honest, it doesn’t sound bad at all.
He imagined coming home to someone like Kate every night. Someone who could argue with as much passion and ferocity as she loved. Someone with a giving enough heart to start a book club for kids, and enough brutal honesty to actually endanger her own life. He looked around the kitchen, envisioning it. Meals together at the kitchen island. Racing each other in the crossword puzzle in the morning. Teasing each other during book club meetings with the girls, maybe having their own one day to read to…
Hey. No more running before you walk, remember? Chris shook his head, smiling to himself. Let’s start with a date tonight, and then you can start daydreaming about your boring married life. Deep down, though, Chris didn’t think a life with Kate sounded boring at all. He didn’t think someone like Kate was capable of being boring; she fascinated him with her stubbornness, her generous spirit, the loving soul she was careful to protect after experiencing so much pain. Chris thought their stories had left them with similar scars, and the pain each felt recognized it in the other as a kindred spirit. They fit together, if they were willing to let go of their past hurts and move forward.
Chris carefully arranged two place settings on the island, wishing he had a fresh flower for a small centerpiece. He frowned, then inspiration struck. He rifled through Kate’s bookshelf, knowing he would find what he was looking for. Flowers for Algernon found itself resting between the two plates. She’ll get that, Chris thought confidently. She’ll love that.
As he walked to the be
droom, Chris felt a fluttering in his stomach and rolled his eyes. He was actually nervous about telling Kate how he felt about her. He wasn’t lying when he said the job in Seattle was a cake walk, and maybe finishing up one more boring assignment would be what finally put to rest his affinity for playing bodyguard. It would last a month, maybe two, and then he could come back to New York, to Kate. He was nervous, but also excited.
Chris thought he might be ready to start calling someplace home, and he couldn’t think of a better place than with Kate. He had tried to live in New York once, and gotten chased away by tragedy. Maybe a fresh start would help him heal, and even face Jackson’s memory with peace. Chris straightened his shirt and knocked on Kate’s door. “Kate?” No response. “Kate? You awake?”
He checked his watch. Almost ten o’clock, and Kate never slept this late. She must have been really beat from all the drama yesterday, Chris thought sympathetically. Still, she was going to be annoyed with herself for sleeping so long. Chris eased open the door and crept in, reaching out an arm to gently wake her when he noticed the dress. For a moment he simply stared in confusion, wondering why Kate had fallen asleep holding a nightgown. An exceptionally fancy nightgown. An icy wave of realization washed over Chris, and the butterflies in his stomach dropped dead. It wasn’t a nightgown; Kate had fallen asleep clutching her wedding dress.
Quietly, Chris backed out of the room, closing the door behind him. If that wasn’t a clear sign that Kate wasn’t over Aiden, then what was? He scoffed and ran a hand over his face, sighing. Chris collapsed onto the couch, feeling crushed. What the hell is wrong with me? He thought bitterly. She’s clearly still dealing with her past, and here I am trying to bulldoze my way into her future. Ashamed of himself, Chris sat in silence on the couch, berating himself for being so presumptuous, when his phone rang.
“Chris Taylor,” he practically barked into his phone.
“Taylor. Need you in Seattle ASAP.” The gruff voice of his supervisor barked right back at him. “Change in situation. Looks like the kid really does have some enemies. House was broken into yesterday, kid hid in the wine cellar all night. Should be a pretty intense job, just the kind of thing you love. Tickets are waiting for you at JFK. Head out.” Without waiting for a response, the call was ended.
The Book Critic's Bodyguard Page 13