Chapter 128 - Characters

Cate took one last long look in the mirror, turning this way and that, checking to be sure she looked okay. She felt like she was wearing a costume, it had been so long since she had dressed like this.

Cate frowned as she shifted uncomfortably. Seriously, this stuff Mandy had convinced her to buy was more uncomfortable than her body armor. At least her vest was broken in, fit to her form. Cate raised her hands to adjust her breasts under the stiff fabric. Jesus, this thing makes my tits look huge, she thought, then snickered. Well, that’s the idea, I guess.

She reached up to smooth back a couple auburn hairs that had slipped free of the sleek bun at the base of her skull, then stared at her reflection. Looking back at her was a woman she hardly knew, a woman so unlike the one she had seen in the mirror two weeks ago. This one looked… Softer. Sexier. Happier. But there was also a hint of melancholy sadness in the reflection of those blue eyes.

Cate growled at herself. “Stop it,” she commanded, looking away from her reflection. She turned and walked away from the mirror on the closet door, then settled on the edge of the bed. She reached down to pick up one black boot, then hesitated. They went with her outfit, but…. well, they were hardly sexy.

Cate’s lips twisted into a wry smile as she stood and walked back to the closet. Climbing up on a stepstool, she pulled a dusty box from the top shelf. She nudged aside the lid and took out a pair of shiny black patent leather pumps. She chuckled softly as she looked at the shoes. These will work.

Cate carried the pumps over to the bed and tossed them into her open duffel bag. She would put them on when she got to the villa. She took a deep breath and turned to take one last look in the mirror. She smiled again, then made a serious face. Time to get into character, if she was going to pull this off.

Slipping her feet into her comfy, worn flip-flops, Cate grabbed the bag and padded toward the door, flicking off the light as she passed the switch on the wall.

*****

Jon sighed heavily as he glanced at his watch. Quarter after four. He had been talking almost nonstop for over two hours. Thankfully this was the last press call of the day. He was sick of talking about himself.

Jon sipped at his water bottle while he waited for the interviewer on the other end of the line to begin. He knew he hadn’t been the best interview today; since he had spoken to Danny he had been distracted, thinking about Cate and how she would react to his news.

Unfortunately he wouldn’t find out tonight as he had hoped. After talking to Danny, Jon had reluctantly agreed to keep his mouth shut and let the Director disclose the plan to Cate tomorrow, after graduation. He hadn’t wanted for Cate to find out that way; he wanted to be the one to surprise her. But after Danny warned him that Cate needed to be put on the spot, he had begrudgingly decided to follow Danny’s advice. It was more important that his plan succeed, not that he had the pleasure of revealing it. “Jon, you’ve done everything you can,” Danny had told him. “It’s up to her now.”

Jon shook his head slightly as he sighed again. God, he wanted to tell her, to make the sadness he saw in Cate’s smile disappear. But now he wasn’t convinced that his news would have that effect. Now he realized it may bring everything to an end. An abrupt, painful, angry end.

Jon swallowed hard against the lump that threatened to rise in his throat. Well, it’s too late now. It’s done. I’m all in. Nothing left to do but to lay all my cards on the table…

But not tonight. He had promised Cate that tonight would be special, and he was going to do his damndest to ensure that it was. Especially since this may be their last night together. Ever.

He was shaken from his thoughts by the voice on the other end of the line. Clearing his throat and taking one more sip of water, Jon slipped back into Rock Star/Actor mode and launched into his performance once again.

For ten minutes Jon recited the same replies to the same questions he had already answered over and over today. He tried to be lighthearted, but heard his attempts fall flat. After answering an inane “lightning round” of questions about his turn-ons and turn-offs Jon finally, thankfully, closed out the call. Closing his eyes, he groaned as he sank gratefully back against the soft suede of the couch. Jon propped his feet up on the ottoman as he rubbed at his temples, appreciating the silence.

Which was broken exactly one minute later by the ringing of his Blackberry.

“Oh…. FUCK.” Jon sighed, pulling the phone from his belt and raising it to his gaze. He smirked when he saw who was calling, then pushed the button. “What the fuck is it NOW?” he barked playfully into the phone, his voice teasing enough to soften his harsh words.

“Awwww, fuck you too, Boss!” Obie replied. “I quit.”

“You’re fired!” Jon shot back with a grin. “Clean out your fucking desk.”

“I don’t have a desk, you cheap bastard,” Obie groused back. “You keep me locked up in this fucking dungeon of a studio day and night…”

“Yeah, yeah…” Jon cut him off, waving a hand in the air as he spoke. “So, what’s up?”

“Just calling to let you know I talked to John, and we’re good for next Friday at Henson Studios. Booked the whole day.” Jon heard Obie cover the receiver with his hand and say something unintelligible to someone in the room with him, then he returned to the call. “Just the one song?”

“Yeah,” Jon nodded. “Should only take a couple hours.”

“Yeah, right,” Obie snorted. “You fucking perfectionist. ‘That’s not quite right… let’s take it again from the top,’" Obie mimicked, imitating Jon.

“Ha ha. Fuck you,” Jon repeated good-naturedly, knowing his pal was right.

“That’s not my job.” Obie replied. “You have… what’s her name, Police Woman? Cop Girl?”

“Cate,” Jon corrected him. “Her name is Cate.”

“Yeah, her. Ain’t that her job? Or did you make such an ass outta yourself in that getup that she laughed you outta town?”

“Worked like a charm,” Jon grinned proudly. “And don’t you worry about it. I’m doin’ just fine.”

“Yeah, okay,” Obie chuckled. “Good for you, Loverboy. Glad you could finally get a girl to sleep with you, ya ugly bastard.”

Jon laughed at that. Conceding the debate to Obie, he changed the subject. “So, is Richie out in L.A. already…?”

*****

Cate pulled her Mustang into the drive behind Jon’s rental and killed the engine. Glancing in the rear-view mirror, she took a deep breath and grinned sheepishly. She couldn’t believe she was going through with this.

Fidgeting uncomfortably again, she reached over to the passenger seat, into her duffel bag. Cate pulled out the shiny black pumps, then kicked off her flip-flops and pushed open the car door. Swinging her legs out and resting her feet on the concrete drive, Cate eased herself out of the car and slipped the shoes onto her feet. Grabbing her keys, she quietly closed and locked the car door, hooking the keys onto her belt.

Cate leaned down to quickly check her hair and lip gloss in the side mirror, then straightened. Adjusting first her breasts then her heavy belt, Cate took a deep breath and strode for the villa’s front door. She stumbled slightly, momentarily forgetting she was wearing high heels instead of tactical boots. Catching her balance and her breath, Cate moved to the heavy oak door and stood before it.

She hesitated for a moment, arranging her expression to a serious look, before raising her hand and rapping firmly on the smooth wood with her knuckles. Out of habit, Cate’s hand dropped to rest on the grip of her Glock as she waited for the door to open.

*****

Jon was surprised by the knock at the door. Still listening to Obie, he frowned slightly as he hauled himself up off the couch and wandered toward the foyer. His phone still to his ear, Jon turned the lock and pulled open the heavy door.

His eyes widened in surprise and his mouth dropped open at the sight before him. Then a slow grin spread across his face.

Standing on his doorstep was a dangerous-looking, serious police officer, dressed in a crisply-pressed black uniform. A gold badge gleamed on the right side of her chest, opposite a shiny gold nametag on her left pocket, bearing the name “SULLIVAN.” Her hand rested on the gun on her hip, her trim waist encircled by a wide black utility belt laden with gear.

Dark-tinted, pewter-framed aviator sunglasses shielded eyes that Jon was sure were swirling sapphire blue. Her auburn hair was pulled back into a sleek bun, and her full, soft lips glistened invitingly with a light slick of wine-tinted gloss.

“Mister Bongiovi?” Cate said, her voice smooth and professional. “I’m Officer Sullivan. May I step inside?”

Jon grinned wider. “Umm… Hey Man, I’m gonna have to call you back,” he smirked into the phone. “There’s a cop at my door.”