Impossibly Tongue-Tied

by Josie Brown

  Yep, you heard it first here, folks: It was Kat who slapped little Jake Harte. So hard, in fact, that it left her paw mark on the poor kid’s face! Wake up, Nat: You’d be a fool to trade in Nina, the perfect mom, for that Mommy Dearest.

  Some celebs can be just positively pissy, particularly when we gossipy gadflies spill the beans about their illicit hook-ups and all the nasty consequences that follow suit. Kat, if you’re mad that I’m telling it like it is, well then, that’s just too bad. Your public deserves the straight scoop—and, in regard to your double dealings, that’s exactly what they’re going to get from me, from now on.

  Baxter Quinn’s Hollywood Exxxposé, 4/2

  Everyone was laughing at her.

  She could tell from the moment she walked onto the set.

  And Hugo, that fucking bastard, refused to close the set for her.

  So Kat endured their snickers. She just put on a big, happy smile and pretended she couldn’t hear them, or, if she caught them pointing at her, she looked them straight in the eye, as if daring them to do the same.

  Of course, they wouldn’t.

  Then again, Nathan wouldn’t look at her, either.

  And that hurt the most.

  He, too, had read Baxter’s column. Then he cursed at her and slammed out of the house.

  Kat stayed up all night, wondering if he’d gone home to Nina, but when she got to the studio, she found out that he’d slept in his dressing room instead, thank God.

  She went to him, totally contrite: the perfect geisha, ready to do his bidding.

  Not that he wanted her to bide anything for him at all, anytime soon. Or, as he put it: “I’m just not in the mood.”

  So she broke down, right then and there. She sobbed endlessly over how sorry she was, how she’d do anything to make it up to him, to Jake, to Nina. She’d even fire Rain—who, she claimed falsely, had fed that perfectly awful lie to Baxter in the first place, thinking that she was doing them a favor, that imbecile! Why, Kat was just as upset about it as he was. Just look what it had done to her credibility with her public!

  Not to mention her relationship with Nathan.

  No, they could not have any loose cannons in their lives, like that awful Rain.

  Crawling on her knees to him, as the tears flowed down her professionally sculpted cheekbones, she asked in a the softest baby-sweet whisper she could manage, “Darling, please, say you forgive me. Please?”

  He fell for it, hook, line, and sinker.

  They made love (well, she made love to him; he was still so upset that he barely made the effort; in fact, he could barely get it up), then she made her way back to her trailer—

  —and fired Rain, right there on the spot.

  The poor kid didn’t know what hit her.

  After Rain left—totally in shock—Kat put in two phone calls. The first was to the security company that guarded her home: she wanted to be sure that someone took all of Rain’s things and put them outside the house. No way, no how, was that weirdo allowed to go back inside!

  Kat’s second call was to Fiona. “Get me some do-gooder cause to front, pronto, before Baxter blows my brand to hell!” she screamed into the phone. Fiona said she’d see what she could do.

  Later that week, Kat found herself on some major corporation’s private jet on her way to Davos, Switzerland, for the World Economic Summit, which was convening that week.

  As the press put it:

  Kat Puts Out for Pooches

  4/8 LOS ANGELES (Reuters)—Katerina McPherson has shot a 60-minute documentary for the Animal Planet Network, in a bid to end the illegal trade of puppies for their pelts.

  The star, who recently received an Academy Award nomination for her role in the historic saga Destiny, narrated the film Pups of the Slaughter.

  As the actress explained in that celebrated breathy voice that infatuates millions of ardent fans the world over, “I am so proud to be a part of this noble humanitarian—I mean, canine—endeavor. Hopefully, it will put an end to the exploitation and trafficking of cute little furry puppies, which are used for all sorts of horrendous—not to mention tasteless—fashionss!”

  In the film’s most controversial footage, young furry canines are slaughtered. Later their pelts show up on the backs of socialites in cities like Bangkok, Thailand, Munich, Germany, and Houston, Texas.

  The documentary premiered later that afternoon at the World Economic Forum. British prime minister Tony Blair, French president Jacques Chirac, and former president Bill Clinton were among the leaders taking center stage at the event, an annual meeting of the rich, powerful, and famous. Other cause-concerned celebrities, from rock stars Bono and Paul McCartney to actors Robert Redford and Leonardo DiCaprio, are also attending the five days of meetings that are taking place in the Swiss resort of Davos.

  Says McPherson: “These are beautiful dogs—flat-coated retrievers and Dalmatians—whose lives are being taken. And it’s not like we’re talking couturiere here. We’re talking off-the-rack! If ever there was a need for fashion police, well, this is it!”

  The day Kat landed back in Los Angeles, Baxter’s column ran the headline “The Bitch Is Back” and caustically derided Kat’s “sudden concern for canine couture” as a publicity stunt, to which he added, “And you thought only dogs could be bitches?”

  Kat was reading the paper while hanging from her Pilates trapeze table when she came across Baxter’s column. Tossing the paper on the floor to Nathan, who had just completed his 437th sit-up, she shrieked, “That bastard! Who the hell does he think he is? I froze my ass off shilling for those mutts! So Fiona picked the wrong relief charity. Hell, nobody’s perfect! Not even that mealymouthed little Miss Goody-Two-Shoes you were married to!”

  Kat’s teary promise to make it up to him—or, for that matter, Jake and Nina—had come to naught, unless you could call a never-before-attempted tantric position and a couple of blowjobs fair compensation.

  “Technically, hon, I’m still married to her,” Nathan growled. Then realizing her proximity to the barbells, he ducked, just in case. “And the fact of the matter is that Nina truly is a saint. Heck, she held down two jobs the whole time we were struggling.”

  “Big effin’ deal. She’s a grocery clerk! What, does she moonlight at Walgreen’s, too?”

  “Hell, no, there’s no money in that. She’s also a phone sex operator.”

  “A—a what? Are you kidding?”

  It suddenly dawned on Nathan that, with a simple slip of the tongue, he had just ruined Nina’s life.

  A cold chill of shame ran through him. If there had been any way he could have taken it all back, he would, but it was too late. In no time at all, Kat unstrapped herself, dismounted with a perfect back tuck, and speed-dialed Riley so that he could give Serenity the scoop of the year.

  Naughty Nina! Nat’s Ex Is

  Obviously Not,Tongue-tied

  You’ve heard the old saying “Those who live in glass houses shouldn’t throw stones,” right? Well, here’s one helluva boulder, and it’s fallen right smack dab in the middle of the House of Harte.

  Seems that Nathan Harte’s soon-to-be ex-wife has more than a few skeletons in that walk-in closet of hers. That’s where she keeps one very private phone line, which this gutter-mouthed gal answers whenever anyone who’s willing to pay by the minute calls for some hot-and-heavy XXX-rated dirty talk par excellence.

  Turns out that Naughty Nina’s quite a fluffer to many of our town’s heavy hitters, if that little black book she keeps is any indication. Poor Nat! Who can blame him for seeking solace and refuge in Kat’s arms!

  Another gossipy gadfly (who shall stay nameless in this column) has fallen hard for her sweet-as-sugar line. He (Oops! Sorry, hope that wasn’t too big of a hint) even went so far as to write her up as the next Mommy Teresa. Don’t make me laugh! If what I hear is correct, she is quite the strict disciplinarian—at least, she is to all those big bad boys who have her not-so-private number on their speed dials.

&nb
sp; Want to hear Naughty Nina’s seductively salacious spin? For sure, there are a lot of “call” girls out there, but you’ll recognize Nina by the sex phone operator nickname she uses: O, as in “O boy, is she a wrong number.” A second hint: Nina’s Red-Hot Hotline is also listed with the rest of those XXX phone sex numbers in the grungier tabloids…No, I didn’t say it was in Exxxpose. (Hmmm…Then again, considering all the plugs the X Man has given her lately, maybe they have worked out a trade of some sort…)

  Serenity’s Scandal Sheet, 4/13

  14

  The Truth Comes Out

  Those who were taking lunch meetings at their usual tables at the Ivy would always remember the ominous hush that came over that revered establishment on the day Nina was outed in Serenity’s column.

  Sam, who had not yet perused the gossip columns (the only papers he could stomach before lunch were Variety and Hollywood Reporter), knew something was amiss, but he hadn’t yet heard what.

  He was sitting at his usual table on the Ivy’s back patio listening to a pitch by an up-and-coming screenwriter (who was enjoying his first lunch at the revered watering hole, and just assumed that everyone was speaking in fervent whispers because they were as awed as he was for being there), when his cell buzzed silently. Noting from the phone’s caller ID that it was Hugo ringing him, Sam politely excused himself, stood up, and walked toward the restaurant’s lobby.

  He hadn’t even made it out of the patio before Hugo’s outraged expletives could be heard pouring out of Sam’s Motorola Q.

  “Hugo, what—what is it? What’s happened?” Sam had to calm the director down, not just because he was ruining everyone’s lunch in the unusually morguelike Ivy, but because he was worried that Hugo might actually have a heart attack.

  “What a little sneak! What a liar! Can you believe it?”

  “Who, Kat?” Sam sighed wearily. “What did she do now?”

  “No. Not Kat.” Hugo hissed. “Nina.”

  Hearing his beloved’s name, Sam went on full alert. “Did something happen to Nina? Is she hurt? Did Kat hurt her?”

  “Hurt? FUCK NO!” Hugo’s retort was so loud that Sam actually had to move the phone away from his ear. “She’s been playing us, Sam. Do you get it? It’s her! She’s O!”

  Sam walked out of the restaurant to see if his cell reception cleared up. If he wasn’t mistaken, Hugo had said that Nina was O…

  And heck, there was no way…

  “What? What did you say?”

  “You heard me. I said, NINA IS O. It’s in Serenity’s column! What a joke, huh? I feel—I feel so…violated. Shit, I feel like a girl…Hey, are you there?…Sam, can you hear me?…HELLO?”

  It was easy to see why Hugo assumed the line was dead, what with Sam having quit breathing for two or three minutes.

  At least.

  Although it seemed like a lifetime.

  The part of his life that Nina had entered flashed before his eyes, as if his mind was doing an instant replay while it searched for the clues he’d missed: the first time he saw her, there behind the counter at Tommaso’s; the look in her eyes when he promised to look at Nathan’s DVD; her joy at Nathan’s signing ceremony, and the gentle kiss she gave him afterward; all those stolen moments on those Tuesday evenings, when he was pretending to do his own shopping; that wonderful scent of hers, as she laid her head on his chest at the Casa del Mar; Nina, passed out and naked, stripped bare by Nathan’s defection, both physically and emotionally…

  And all those flirting, teasing, taunting conversations with O…

  …In which he had told her how much he loved Nina.

  Loved her.

  Why, she knew she was talking to him all along.

  Hell, she had certainly known who he was when she handed him Nathan’s reel. That she had admitted, right then and there.

  She had done it all for Nathan: sucked up to Sam, played him like a fiddle, then crushed him like a bug under that delicately arched foot of hers.

  That bitch. That cunt.

  Once again he had trusted a woman, only to have his heart ripped out of his chest and pounded into the ground.

  He tossed a twenty at the valet along with his parking chit. The dude had his car there in no time flat.

  The screenwriter had anticipated he’d have to pick up the check, but he hadn’t anticipated that Sam would leave without hearing his pitch. Of course he’d be pissed when he found out. Well, too bad, thought Sam. I’ll catch the guy later. Right now, it was payback time.

  Because Jake was complaining of stomach cramps, Nina had kept him home from school that morning. She had no doubt that his tummy ache and the way he was sucking on his inhaler as if it were a pacifier were symptoms of his anxiety over the divorce, coupled with all the whispering that was now going around the little boy’s school. With her cell phone turned off and far away from the tabloid headlines that stared out at her from Tommaso’s newsstand (not to mention the stares from the store’s clientele, who could not help but recognize her from her pictures in those same tabloids), she was blissfully ignorant of the latest tempest brewing around her.

  It was only after Jake went down for his afternoon nap that Nina decided to flip on O’s phone line. She rarely worked during the day, and she didn’t expect any of her regulars to anticipate her availability, so she was pleasantly surprised to see Sam’s telephone number pop up on her phone’s caller ID. He had not called O since he’d confessed he loved Nina, and she was glad about that, because she would have felt horrible keeping up the charade, but now she longed to talk to him.

  In fact, she knew that it was time to come clean with him. Just the thought of doing so gave her a sense of elation. She’d played the conversation over and over in her head so that she’d have the right words ready. It was important that he understand the serendipity of it all: how he and Nina met, his connection to Hugo, Hugo’s connection to O, and the final, most fateful link of all:

  O and Nina.

  And in knowing how he felt about her, she could now tell him how she felt about him, too.

  That she wanted to love him as much as she loved Nathan.

  But that was the problem: She did still love Nathan.

  If Sam could accept that—and accept her mandate that they take things slowly, learn about each other, and most importantly, never lie anymore to each other—then it just might work.

  “Hi, handsome,” O said breathlessly.

  “Hi, yourself…O.”

  Something was wrong. She could tell immediately, just in the way he’d spoken O’s name.

  O knew how to bring him back to her. “I’m so glad you called. I’ve missed you. Terribly.”

  “I’ll just bet. Hey, O, tell me: Is there anyone in that little black book of yours who doesn’t get that line from you?”

  She laughed uncertainly. “You’ve always been special to me, handsome. You know that.”

  Silence.

  She didn’t know what he was fishing for. Maybe he’s having a bad day, she thought. Well, when I tell him, he’ll feel better. Of course he would…

  She started with: “So, I’ve got a surprise for you—”

  “Really? A surprise? Well, well.”

  Why was he mocking her?

  “Let me guess: Is it some new trick you’ve learned to do with your tongue? Will it make me hard? Will you promise we’ll come together?”

  “What?” She was surprised. He had never taunted her like that. “No, nothing like that…What’s with you, Sam? Is everything okay?”

  Silence again. Then: “I’ll say, O. Everything’s just fine and dandy. Now that I’ve gotten over that bitch Nina.”

  It was as if she’d been hit hard in the chest. It took her a few long moments to catch her breath, to be able to answer him without gasping. “What do you mean, Sam?”

  “Well, O, I have to tell you. There I was at lunch, enjoying the peace and quiet of the day, when it suddenly dawned on me: That Nina is a lying bitch. She’s just a piece of ass—albeit a
very cute piece of ass—but nonetheless, she’s just like every other woman who’s ever stomped on my heart. Ever had that happen to you, O? You know, when someone just tears you up inside with their lies, one right on top of the other—”

  “Sam, what are you saying—”

  “I thought I was making myself very clear.” He spit the words into the phone. “I’m saying that she’s just a piece of ass…just like you. You like it when I call you that, don’t you?”

  She didn’t know what to say. Not that she could say anything while she choked back her tears.

  “Talk dirty to me, O,” he dared her. “Make me come. For once, give me my money’s worth. That’s what this is about, anyway, isn’t it? The money? Hey, that’s okay, I get it…at least, I will on this call. You’ll get me off this time, right? Because I’m getting tired of your little head games. If you can’t get me off, then you’re just like Nina: a fake.”

  She was stung by his hurtful jibes. Moreover, she was angry. At him, for being cruel. At Nathan, to whom she’d been so loyal, and for whom she became O in the first place.

  And at herself, thinking any man deserved her love.

  Certainly Sam didn’t deserve it.

  Not after what he was saying about her. Not after what he’d just asked her to do.