by Marnie Cate
Chasing Caitlyn
By Marnie Cate
Copyright (C) 2018 Marnie Cate
Published 2018 by Norns Triad Publications
Layout design 2018 by Norns Triad Publications
(www.nornstriad.com)
Cover design by Marnie Cate and J.M. Northup
Cover artist The Magic Quill Graphics
(Jessica Tahbonemah)
This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are the product of the author's imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, or persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental.
All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system, without the author's permission.
Forward
Dear Reader,
The following tale is a collection of experiences. It isn’t about one particular person, but a culmination of struggles our society faces. Different aspects of the story may resonate with each reader and provoke emotions.
The point of this book is to not only depict the ways in which we can be broken but also the availability of healing. You don’t have to stay imprisoned by your mistakes, in servitude to your choices, or under the cloud of your trials. We all have the ability to push beyond where we have been and who we once were.
Find your strength and realize your worth. Then, and only then, will you be able to forgive and grow.
Remember, you are not alone. And, I believe you.
NATIONAL DOMESTIC VIOLENCE hotline
(800) 799-SAFE (7233)
(800) 787-3224 TTY For the Deaf
National Lifeline SUICIDE PREVENTION hotline
(800) 273-TALK (8255)
www.suicidepreventionlifeline.org
NATIONAL SEXUAL ASSAULT hotline
(RAINN – Rape, Abuse, & Incest National Network)
(800) 656-HOPE (4673)
Prologue
Fiction reveals truth that reality obscures.
– Ralph Waldo Emerson
One
Yes, darling. Keep clicking those buttons. You're giving me what I want. How kind of you to build my case for me. Not that I really need this additional indiscretion. I’ll have our divorce papers sent to you very soon.
He could pretend he was working hard, but I knew Jeremy. Maybe he was answering a few work texts, but the ones where his eyes brightened, bringing out his devilish grin, were not work. It was her. I say her like there is just one. One woman is never enough for Jeremy.
Jeremy likes the chase. I was the last one…the one he finally caught. The one he decided worthy of him. I was enough of a trophy to marry.
Jeremy sat on his monstrous leather chair while I chose a love seat across from him. Love seat…far from.
When Jeremy proposed to me, he told me he found his dream wife. With me, his dream life would come true. I now wonder which meant more to him.
The penthouse we lived in was larger than most people's houses. Centered in the financial district of Los Angeles, Jeremy insisted it was the perfect home for us. It was lavish and excessive in my opinion. The view of the high rise buildings, with their scattering of lit windows, irritated me.
By the time we moved in, Jeremy had already decorated it to his liking. Black leather furniture. The odd art deco sculpture. Dark wood floors. Grey walls with white accents. No wall hangings. The wall-to-wall windows with the view of the buildings were enough decoration for him. They showed success.
At least, he allowed me to put up an elegantly framed picture of us from our wedding day. Good idea, babe. We want to remind our guests they are dealing with a power couple. Still, no other evidence of life was in our home. That was his style – cold and impersonal.
My mother warned me a man like Jeremy would give me security, but he would never meet my needs for love. As much as I hated to admit it, my mother was right. I knew that when I agreed to marry him. In the back of my mind, I knew he was not the man I wanted to spend the rest of my life with. There had always been signs of his wandering eye.
Earlier in the evening, he started his texting, and continued through the night. Setting his fork down on his unfinished plate, he excused himself, "Sorry, babe. I've got to put out some fires. I'm still reeling from the San Diego fiasco."
"Of course," I said, forcing a smile.
Yes, another night where he claimed he had a bunch of work to do…that he needed to catch up…that he had so much that couldn't wait. This was not business.
Since the beginning of our marriage, there were signs that Jeremy was a womanizer. The blinders I put on allowed me to ignore it. At first. I usually calmed my mind and pretended it wasn't happening, but tonight was different. The ding of each message was like a knife in my heart. It was time for me to put the final piece of my plan into action.
Like I said, for Jeremy, it was all about the chase, and he already captured me. How ironic he married me – Caitlyn Chase. He caught his prize, but not for long.
Closing my book and picking up my teacup, I decided it best to leave the room.
"Where are you going?" Jeremy lifted his eyes long enough to meet mine.
"I'm going to bed. I’m tired, Jeremy," I said with a fake yawn.
Setting the phone down, he watched me walk away. Calling after me, he said, "I am sorry I’ve been ignoring you, babe. I have to keep those dollars rolling in, don't I?"
"Yeah," I said, laughing half-heartedly. I didn't bother to turn around or he would have seen me roll my eyes.
I hated it when he called me babe. Confronting him would not be helpful. He’d tell me I was crazy. Then, if I didn't apologize for my insanity, he would threaten to take everything away from me. I had no plans to be penniless at the age of thirty-two. Marrying badly shouldn't be a sentence of poverty.
Soon, everything would change. His house of cards would come crashing down. The plan has been put into motion, and there was no turning back.
I set the cup in the sink and was jerked out of my bitter reverie by Jeremy’s touch. I let out a small gasp of surprise as he wrapped his strong arms around me. I eyed the knife block. It would be easy enough to stab him. I could claim it was an innocent mistake as I drove the blade into his femoral artery.
Once again, I rolled my eyes. I had one shot at the blowing strike, and realistically, I knew that wouldn't satisfy me. I wouldn't like prison. Orange was not my color.
"You smell so good," Jeremy purred in my ear. My body reacted to his warm breath on my skin. Irritated, I reconsidered the idea of stabbing him as he began to kiss my neck. My body and my mind were in a battle. I forced myself to focus on the words I had been telling myself for the past year.
Be the good wife.
Ignore the fact he is probably imagining he is with someone else right now.
Sixteen hours, twenty-three minutes.
Then, you’re free.
Turning me around to face him, he kissed me on the tip of my nose. "Don't be mad, babe. You know I’m doing all of this for you." Lifting my chin with his finger, he asked in a firm voice, "You know that, right?"
"Of course, Jeremy," I said, leaning in and kissing him.
Best actress in an unhappy marriage goes to Caitlyn Chase Whittaker. I want to thank everyone who made this possible, especially my lying cheat of a husband. This is really for you, Jeremy.
He interpreted my silencing kiss as an invitation and scooped me up into his arms. I laughed in mock irritation and demanded he put me down. With a grin, Jeremy set me down and took my hand, leading me through our home. It felt like the last walk.
I stared at the familiar bare walls, forcing myself to focus on the bi
g picture. I could endure. It wasn't like he was a fat, sweaty businessman. At one time, I loved when he dropped everything to lead me away to a quiet place. But that was before reality hit. That was before I knew who he really was.
When we reached the bedroom, Jeremy wasted no time peeling my clothes off, and then his. If the sight of him didn't make me want to murder him, I would have enjoyed the view of his athletic body in the soft glow of the hallway light. Jeremy was, if anything, an attentive lover, and he had been equipped with the tools to satisfy.
Lying on the bed, I stared at the ceiling, pretending I had runaway to meet my lover. I imagined spending the day on the beach, being massaged with oil by this delicious man. Then, when he finally took me, I would cry out as I reached climax.
"Does it feel good, babe?" Jeremy asked.
If you didn’t speak, it would feel better. No, it would feel better if it wasn't you. If it was him.
Tonight, I was unable to even feel the sweet release of pleasure from Jeremy's touch. Not even with thoughts of the one I wanted to be with racing through my mind. Tonight, you fake it, I warned myself.
"I need to feel you, Jeremy. Come to me, baby," I writhed and moaned.
With a satisfied grin, he slithered up my body. Closing my eyes, as if I was still reeling from the pleasure he gave me, I focused my mind back on the object of my fantasy. Don't get me wrong, Jeremy was gorgeous. His tan, rock hard body made it easier to picture my imaginary lover.
Despite myself, I rocked against each of his thrusts. Each movement reminded me I was a liar. I hated myself for enjoying even one second of it, especially since this time, I didn't need to fake it. My body exploded from the pleasure of his skilled lovemaking.
When he finally reached his peak, he slipped off of me and rolled over. I didn't need to look at him to see his pleased face. But to be fair, Jeremy was a selfish husband, but a giving lover.
Rolling away from him, I let out an audible sigh as I stared at the alarm clock.
Jeremy snuggled up behind me and kissed my shoulder. "I hope this time we made a baby. We would make the most beautiful children," he whispered in my ear.
Not a chance in hell, I thought smugly. The white pills I had been popping each day ensured there would be no little Whittakers brought into this world by me. Jeremy was right though. We would have beautiful children.
Jeremy was the perfect ‘Cali Boy’ – blond hair, blue eyes, athletic, and charming. As for me, he often complimented my dark hair and hazel eyes. He said he had never seen a porcelain doll come to life in the body of a stripper, but I had mastered it. I should have left him then.
I felt the cold air on my back as he left the bed. "I need to go back to work. Thanks for the distraction, babe."
Babe. I came to the conclusion this term of endearment was a way to ensure the wrong name was never called out…never spoken. Once again, I was reminded Jeremy would never change, and that I needed to protect my heart, as well as my future.
The plan was in place. I would hit Jeremy where it hurt. It had taken patience and cunning, but now, I would be the snake in the grass waiting to strike.
Fourteen hours, forty-two minutes.
Then, you’re free.
A single tear streamed down my cheek. That'll be the last tear you shed for any man, I scolded myself as I drifted off to sleep.
Daddy's
Girl
Two
How did I let myself accept the life Jeremy offered? Looking back, there were so many things I could pinpoint as the building blocks that made me the woman I am. However, none of it mattered. I chose to wear the blinders during the beginning of our relationship. Even if I wanted to go back and make a different choice, I couldn't.
When I was young, I was strong and fiery. I thought the world was mine to grab and take hold of, but that feeling of strength died slowly. The first blow came when I was seventeen years old and my father died.
Gregory Chase was not only a prestigious pediatric surgeon but an amazing man. Anyone you asked about my father would say, ‘he was the perfect man.’ He was so handsome that he was frequently told he should model. Besides his appearance, he was acknowledged as being the ideal family man. He doted on Mother and me, providing us with a dream lifestyle.
His love – for us and for the children he saved – drove him. His long hours away were accepted as we basked in the rewards from it. A fine home, all the creature comforts one dreams of, and fabulous vacations.
My mother, Hillary Chase, was the cookie cutter stay-at-home wife. She was beautiful, refined, and the envy of the other mothers. I was proud of my family.
When I was a little girl, I watched my mother put on her makeup and I remember vowing to be as beautiful as her. If I was, I could have my own loving husband and children. However, unlike my mother, I would have a career.
I was raised with the idea of having it all. Nothing would stop me. I would be able to achieve my dreams. The man I married would be just like my father, who had been a super hero in my eyes. To me, my father was invincible. And then, it all changed.
A mighty deity reached down from the heavens, and said, "You're having too good of a life. It is time to play." My father was taken from me. The drunk driver who smashed into his car not only killed my father but shattered my world, my goals.
My mother was not equipped for our sudden loss. My father had handled everything, which left the composed woman a disheveled mess of tears and sorrow. The rage inside me had to be shoved down. I couldn't show my emotions. She couldn't handle it.
Still, she was the parent. Why did she not keep her mask of perfection? The one I saw her put on whenever she was disappointed. Guilt filled me for the anger I felt towards her, but I needed my mother. Not the mess of a woman falling apart in front of me.
One evening, a few days after the funeral, I found my mother sitting alone in the kitchen. She was writing in a notebook, which she shut quickly when I walked into the room. She had heard my entrance, but disregarded the phone ringing behind her. I waited to see if she would even move towards the obnoxious sound. Nothing.
Sighing, I answered, "Chase residence."
"Oh good," a gruff man's voice said. "May I speak with Hillary Chase? Tell her it is Winston Charles on the line."
"Let me get her for you." I held the phone to my body to muffle my voice. "It's Winston Charles."
She shook her head madly.
"I'm sorry Mr. Charles. My mother is not available."
"I must speak with her. I know it has been a very painful time for your family, but there are things we must discuss."
"If you tell me what is going on, I can relay the message," I offered.
"I'm sorry, but that will not do. There are financial and legal issues to discuss," he said, not hiding his irritation.
"You would be surprised how much they teach us in high school these days. I have a very strong understanding of how money things work," I said, wishing he would just tell me what was going on.
"I'm sorry, Miss Chase, I must speak to your mother, and it must be soon," he insisted.
"I'll have her call you," I promised before saying goodbye.
I put the phone back on its cradle.
My mother was crying. Again.
"Mother, you have to stop this." I handed her a tissue from the pocket of my sweatshirt and sat down next to her. "I'm sad, too, but Daddy is gone. We have to go on."
"I'm trying, Caitlyn. I just feel so lost," she said, choking back her tears.
"Mr. Charles said he needs to speak to you soon. Please, go talk to him. He can't speak to me since I’m a minor. You have to deal with our finances," I scolded.
My mother nodded and closed her eyes. "I'll go in the morning."
"I'll come with you," I said, not hiding my relief that she had agreed to go.
Her brown eyes popped open and she shook her head. "No, Caitlyn. They are right. You're the child. You need to enjoy the last summer before you're an adult. Weren't you going to the beach wit
h your friends?"
"But—" I tried telling her I would be there for her, that she was not alone.
"I can do this," my mother said, stopping me. "You need to enjoy your youth while you can. You can't throw away your chance to enjoy your senior year. You have worked so hard."
My mother would not relent. Telling her I could graduate early, I finally kissed her on the cheek and headed to bed. When I woke in the morning, I found an envelope with sixty dollars and a note.
Cailtyn,
Enjoy your day, honey.
Time will pass so quickly.
In a blink of an eye,
You will be off to college.
Treasure this time.
Love, Mom
I typed the words into my phone. I stopped and reread my lies. It took me several attempts before I had even convinced myself I was being truthful. Holding my breath, I prayed I wouldn't have to use my father's death as my excuse, and just hit send.
Caitlyn: Hey Rach, I am not going to make it today
Rachel: What! No! >:(
Rachel: It's been ages!!!!!
Cailtyn: 4 days
Caitlyn: I saw you at the funeral
Damn you for making me pull the dead father card! Why does she always have to exaggerate?
Rachel: Doesn't count!!!
Cailtyn: It's a crazy time. Mom needs me. The beach soon? Tell everyone hello. xoxo
Rachel: Ok, Caitlyn. Promise we'll see each other soon.
I almost saw Rachel's big doe eyes filling with dramatic tears.
Cailtyn: I promise
With those words, I turned my phone on silent. Without a second thought, I stuffed my cell, along with the money, into my purse, and headed out. When I opened the garage door, the silver paint of my 1989 Porsche 911 glimmered. I forced back the tears brimming in my eyes.