Steal Me (Longshadows Book 1)

by Natalia Banks

  “Of course I am,” Adrienne said with a snap of contempt. “It’s the anniversary; I always visit him on the anniversary.”

  “I know you do, but…do you have to?”

  “Kathleen, really!”

  But Kathleen was quick to explain, “On his birthday, I get it—that’s something to celebrate. Even your wedding anniversary, but…”

  In a low and humorless voice, even colder out of the laptop’s tiny speakers, Adrienne asked, “But what?”

  “All I’m saying is that it’s a very sad thing when a person’s death becomes the defining thing about their lives, that’s all.”

  Adrienne looked down, off-screen, and Kat was instantly flush with hot regret. “That’s a very cruel thing to say, Kathleen. He was your father! He was my husband and the love of my life!”

  “I love him too, and I miss him every day. But he wouldn’t want either one of us to spend the rest of our lives mourning him the way you’re doing. He’d want us to find happiness, have our own lives. That’s…” But she stopped herself, just a bit too late.

  “That’s why you left Tucson, I know. But I can’t leave Tucson the way you did. This is my home, this is where…” This time it was Adrienne’s turn to stop herself just a few words too late.

  “It’s where he’s buried,” Kat said. “But that’s what I’m talking about, Mom. We’re still alive, and life is for the living. Daddy always used to say that.”

  Adrienne tried to nod with some kind of sincerity, but Kat knew it wasn’t easy, it wasn’t natural, and it wasn’t working. “Well, yeah,” she finally said, “he used to say a lot of things.”

  “And he meant every last one of them.”

  Kathleen tried to ignore the anniversary of her father’s death which was almost ten years ago when she was just nineteen. She treasured his memory, but tried to avoid the melancholy of that particular anniversary, the same way she suggested her mother do. She could see the effect it was having on her mother, how rapidly she was aging, how sad she continuously seemed to be. But Mom has Ric and Jeanell to take care of her, she reassured herself, and if they can ever manage to give her a grandson, she’ll be just fine.

  But what about me?

  She thought about her father, Maurice Le Fleur, always ready with a joke and a smile—a man who really did stop and smell the roses: to smile and wave at little babies, to pause and savor the feeling of a fresh breeze or a hot summer rain. Even then, years later, Kat could practically hear his voice in the back of her mind, telling her the story of how he was almost killed in that black hawk crash in Operation Desert Storm. The images were still fresh in her mind even though she’d never actually seen them: the pilot chopped in half by flack from an exploding shell, the helicopter spinning as the earth raced up to meet it.

  But he’d survived, and taken the lessons of his survival with him back home, to love those whom he loved to the utmost, to protect and honor his country, to live as though each day was a precious gift, because to him that’s exactly what it was.

  And that was a lesson his daughter wouldn’t forget. It had propelled her out of Tucson and to New York City with dreams of glory. She hadn’t made those dreams come true, but she’d made other dreams come true—ones she didn’t know she had and many that weren’t even her own. They were little things, these birthday dreams of happy children and the colorful characters they loved. But making them happy was a way to keep her father’s dream alive—a dream of simple and sweet contentment, little joys, the moments in life that are neither expensive nor replaceable. Like those little animal sculptures, a moment could be captured and treasured, even if just for a precious, short while.

  And Kat had to wonder, What about Mitchell and I? Maybe it’s time to shake things up just a little bit. Poor man’s up there right now wrestling with another book, alone, grinding out the stories of lives he doesn’t dare lead. He’s become sheltered, dangerously so. And if I can’t drag him out of that cabin, at least I can make life there a little less predicable and a little more memorable.

  Chapter 3

  Kat

  Kat rented a car and drove straight up from Manhattan. It was an extravagance, but she was so excited and so eager to see the surprise—the happy shock on Mitchell’s face, that it made the expense worthwhile. Don’t worry about the money, she could still remember her father saying, we’ll get it back. But time, life, those things are irreplaceable.

  She’d done a lot of thinking on the way up. Maybe Mitchell’s right, she reflected. Maybe I’m living in the future and I should just start living in the moment. Things aren’t bad the way they are; why rock the boat? Everybody’s always so worried about everything, myself especially. Maybe it’s time to relax and just savor the moment, live a little bit before I’m too old and gray to enjoy it.

  Kathleen pulled up and crossed past Mitchell’s Jeep and went right to the front door. She rapped on the door and waited, a smile plastered across her face. There was a brief pause while she heard sounds of scuttling around inside the big, red cabin: an odd woodland barn without a matching farmhouse. It took longer than usual for Mitchell to get to the door, but since he wasn’t expecting her, she knew he could have been in the shower, or locked up in his writing room.

  Instead, he opened the door.

  “Mitchell, hi!”

  “Um, hi.” Kat tried to walk past him and into the cabin, but he shifted to the side to block her path, his eyes round with more than just surprise.

  She understood that he was taken off-guard. That had been the point. “Listen, Mitchell, I was thinking…maybe you’re right.”

  “I’m…I’m right?” He stared at her with nervous impatience growing on his face.

  Kat went on, “About us. I didn’t mean to try to paint you into a corner, not at all. Let’s just enjoy ourselves a while, like you said—live for the moment. My father would have wanted the same thing. And we’ll just, y’know, see how it all goes.”

  “Mitch,” a woman’s voice said from behind him, “who is it?”

  Kat looked at Mitchell, knowing exactly what was happening; at least she thought she did. Kat stammered in disbelief, “Mitchell, are you…are you cheating on me?”

  “Um, no…”

  The woman arrived behind Mitchell, putting a hand on his shoulder as if to claim him as her own. She looked Kat up and down from under a blond bob. “What do you want?” she probed.

  “How about an explanation?” She looked at Mitchell. “Who is this woman?”

  “I’m Barbara Jarvis, Mitchell’s wife. Who the hell are you?” Tensions increased by the second.

  “I’m…I’m Kathleen Le Fleur; I’m Mitchell’s girlfriend.”

  Mitchell spun to face his wife. “I don’t even know this woman; she’s just a deranged fan or something. This has happened before, you know that.”

  Barbara paused, eyes combed Mitchell’s body, a sneer taking over her lips. “Yeah, sure.” She turned to Kathleen, “Why are you still here? Get lost, you slut, before I call the cops!” With that, Barbara Jarvis slammed the front door shut, a gust of air hitting Kat square in the face, the door only inches from the tip of her nose. She was entirely stunned, as if the wind had been punched out of her lungs, her legs managing to turn her and send her stumbling away from the cabin and back to the rental car, the shrieking voices of the bickering Jarvis couple ringing in her ears. Tears ran down her flushed cheeks as she rested her head on the steering wheel of the car, hyperventilating in bewilderment. She turned the key in the ignition, reversed the car, and took off like a bat out of hell. Once she was out of the driveway, and down the country road, Kat pulled over at a safe rest stop, put the car in park, and attempted to digest the tsunami of emotions that were raging through her body. Once some time passed and she regained enough stability to make it home safely, she drove in silence all the way home. Never before in her life, had she felt more relieved than seeing those bright city lights guiding her to her tiny sanctuary.

  Twist, fold, twist and fold ag
ain. Twist, fold, pop! Ben was in his full rig as Bendy the Clown, working alongside Kat at a very big event for Viacom, the broadcasting giant. The line for balloon animals was only getting longer, circling the posh lobby and attracting the annoyed grimaces of the company’s best and brightest.

  “Take it easy, Kat,” Ben said. “It’s a party, not a slaughterhouse.”

  They kept folding, handing out the colorful little animals, and keeping the line moving as quickly as they could. Twist, fold, pop!

  “Rats!” After pumping another long, yellow balloon full of air, she released a little bit and then tied it off. “God, I feel so stupid!”

  “Just concentrate—you’ve done it a billion times before.”

  “Not that, Ben.” After a knowing silence, Ben nodded, his curling mouth lost in his thick, bushy beard. “Married. How could I have been so…so blind?”

  “It’s not your fault, Kat. The guy’s a sociopath; a person of your character and integrity wouldn’t be any match for a person like him. He was the one doing the cheating, practically living a double life.”

  She folded the little giraffe, drawing a few spots and a face on it before blowing the ink dry and handing the balloon out, slipping another on the plastic pump. Kat sighed. “He was leading a double life, as much as I can figure. I guess he was telling his wife the same thing he was telling me, that he was at the cabin writing. Really, he was spending half his time with her.”

  “That explains why he never wanted to come into the city,” Ben said, folding his own pink poodle for an entranced little girl staring at the balloon like it was a giant sparkling diamond. “Probably lived here in the city with her—didn’t want to be seen with you.”

  “Yeah, I guess so. But…he didn’t even have a tan line on his wedding ring finger.”

  Ben shrugged. “Wouldn’t have a tan line if he only wore it half the time.” Kat slumped, but he gave her a friendly nudge. “C’mon, you can’t blame yourself. You took a chance and it didn’t work out. That’s life, right?”

  “I suppose.” She looked out over the office. “I wonder if it ever will work out.”

  Ben tossed out a surprised chuckle. “Are you kidding? Sweetie, I’d fall to my knees and propose right now if it wouldn’t half-crush a few of these kids.”

  “Ben, we’ve been through this—” Kat pouted, feeling slightly bad that she kept throwing Ben back into the dreaded friend zone.

  “I know, I know, and I’m not making a big thing out of it. Tell you the truth, I think you’re right.”

  “Yeah?”

  Ben nodded, pumping up another balloon and tying it off. “Sure, I mean…we’re friends, right? And we wouldn’t want to mess that up, not to mention the business. But that doesn’t mean you won’t find somebody…somebody great. You’ll just have to let fate take its course.”

  “I guess.” Her eyes found the carpeting, her fingers folding slowly, with hesitant uncertainty. “I was thinking…maybe my mother’s right, maybe it’s time to go home.”

  “No, Kathleen, no,” Ben said, too fast and more than just a bit too loud. Recalibrating his tone, he glanced around and went on, “This is your home now, Kat. C’mon, you can’t go running back with your tail between your legs just because of one bad experience.”

  She sighed. “No, you’re right about that. But it’s not just one bad experience. I came here to be an actor, Ben, like you. I thought I was onto something else, something just as good, but…”

  Ben smiled, leaning toward her just a little. “Didn’t your dad always say something about being happy is better than being rich?”

  She couldn’t help but smile herself, to recall that gentle, bygone face and his loving, hard-won wisdom. “He used to say a lot of things like that, and he meant every one of them.” But uglier images interrupted her sweet memory, and she was yanked from the past and pulled back into her present and further into her future. “But I have to admit, it’s a lot easier being happy without being rich in Tucson.”

  They shared a little chuckle. Ben said, “Why don’t you get back into serious acting, start taking auditions? We’ll get Giggles and the rest of the troop to fill in, maybe hire on another performer?” But expanding the business was the last thing on Kat’s mind, and competing against the most talented women in the world who were almost half her age made even less sense.

  Less and less in Kat’s life was making sense, in fact, and she had less and less clue what to do about it.

  Chapter 4

  Kat

  The familiar Skype ringtone had Kat on edge. Gotta be Mom, she knew, unless it’s that bastard Mitchell Jarvis. Aren’t two unanswered phone calls enough? No, he wouldn’t have the balls to contact me now, probably just hopes never to see me again. Now I get to explain all that to Mom. Great.

  But the call didn’t have the name Adrienne Le Fleur, but Jeanell Le Fleur Black. That sent waves of apprehension through her already stressed system. Is Mom okay? Is there some emergency? Did Ric finally manage to do the deed? All aboard the gloat boat!

  Kat plopped herself down at her desk and clicked the mouse, her sister’s face appearing in the Skype window. She had Kat’s dark brown hair, but cut above the shoulders—a conservative look to match her few years of seniority.

  “Leen, how are ‘ya?”

  “Great, Jeanell, great,” Kat said—easier than explaining the truth. “What’s up?”

  “I just thought I’d call to give you the good news…we did it!” Her face lit up with a wide smile, her eyes bending into wrinkled crescents.

  “That’s so great, Jeanell, really terrific! I’m so happy for you, I know how…um, how hard you and Ric…worked for this.”

  But Jeanell just waved her kid sister off with a roll of her eyes. “The way we went at it, the kid’s gonna be born six feet tall.”

  Kat wasn’t sure how she was going to take the news, but she was genuinely glad to be genuinely glad. Her own smile was natural and beaming, making Kat feel even better. For all the kids she worked with every week, there would now be one with her blood, in her family.

  In Tuscon.

  “I-I couldn’t be happier, Jeanell, really. How far along?”

  “Three months! I’ll start showing anytime.”

  “Awww. I wish I could be there to see you get fat!” The sisters shared a laugh, but it ended with a skeptical glare from Jeanell on the other side of the computer monitor. “In a good way, I mean.”

  “Uh-huh. Well, look, Leen, maybe this is a good time to think about coming home, moving back to Tucson.”

  “Jeanell—”

  “You’ve been out there almost ten years, Kathleen; you’ve had your fling, don’t you think? How are things with your writer guy?” Kat wasn’t fast enough, and even from that distance, her sister could read her expression. “Oh, hun, I’m so sorry. So…what’s keeping you there?”

  More and more, she was wondering the same thing. “There are lots of nice guys here in Arizona. Take your pick. You’re a Tucson ten, but in New York? I dunno, a seven maybe?” Jeanell smiled. poking fun at her sister. The expression on Kat’s face said it all.

  “Okay, I gotta go.”

  “I didn’t mean anything by it, Kat. Please don’t be upset with me. Your little niece or nephew is going to want to know their Aunt Kathleen, that’s all I’m saying. And if you think you might be happier coming home, well—”

  “There’s no shame in it?”

  Jeanell nodded. “Exactly.”

  Kat was spending some idle time at the apartment between gigs. More balloons, she thought to herself. Twist, fold, twist and fold again. Is that what my life’s going to be—just an endless series of twists and folds, amounting to nothing? These kids have fun, but they forget it just as quickly. No balloon animal can hope to survive four or five days, and it’s a saggy, withering demise.

  But what if I do go back to Tucson? I’ll still have to make a living, and there’ll be a lot less opportunity out there as well. Still, if I let Ben keep up the busines
s, just take the work out there, I could make it work. If I can make it here, as they used to sing… Still, twist and fold and twist and fold again.

  There was a knock at the door, too forceful to be a woman’s. Kat crossed the little apartment to the front door, sliding the chain lock closed and picking up the baseball bat she and Jackie kept by the jab. “Who is it?”

  “Kathleen, it’s me…Mitchell.”

  “Mitchell! Get outta here, you son of a bitch!” She shouted with a bubbling rage that poured out of her like lava.

  His voice was quick and muddled on the other side of the door. “Kat, please, give me a chance to explain.”

  “Why should I? I never want to see you again.”

  “That’s fine, Kat, but you won’t take my calls. I just want a few words, then I’ll go.” She stood on the other side of the door, clutching that baseball bat with both hands, extended in front of her.

  “Go ahead and talk then,” she piped.

  “Not through the door, Kat…for obvious reasons.” Tension swirled in the air while he waited for her to open the door, and when it was clear she wasn’t convinced, Mitchell went on, “Look, I don’t blame you for being mad at me, I really don’t. I just…I want to put things right, if I can, just a bit.”

  She searched her heart and mind for something which Mitchell could still give her, and she came up empty. But she was ready to reclaim her sense of self—some kind of resolution over the matter. She’d been humiliated and exploited, and completely taken advantage of. This was a chance to throw a little humiliation back his way, to not feel so helpless, yet again.

  Kat reached over and slid open the lock. “Step back into the hall,” she said before unlocking the bolt and clicking open the knob. She stepped back as the door was idle and ajar in front of her. It slowly slid open and Mitchell cautiously poked his head in. He saw the baseball bat and released a quick, amused huff, putting up his hands, flattened palms out, as he stepped into the room.