Chapter 391: Katrina XIII—Something Yet..

Katrina had been joking at first. Although, true enough, she hadn’t been in the mood to work on anyone that morning, getting paid to do it was inducement enough. Besides, Debbie was a small woman, a little congested in the muscles, but nevertheless very simple to work on. When Debbie mentioned the silly high school clique way the chicken coop had treated Brandi, it annoyed Katrina but not enough to really walk out like that. She’d just enjoyed seeing Debbie obviously squirm with guilt when being interrogated about it.

But seeing Debbie panic that much when Katrina joked about leaving really, really irritated her. Women begging, crying, whining helplessly about something they wanted depressed and annoyed her and just plain filled her with contempt for them. Debbie only kind of redeemed herself by threatening her job but Katrina knew she wasn’t the type of woman to actually go through with it. Just for being a spineless crying twit, Katrina decided to strand the poor woman mid-massage. She had even been tempted to say, “Call me when you decide to grow some balls.” But instead, she dared Debbie to call up Scott Parker. Ha now that would be an interesting story to hear later.

She yawned and started her car, the door closed but she was sure Debbie was still crying in the house. Ugh, way too early in the morning to deal with crying females. In fact way too early in the morning to be functioning. Katrina decided to go home and get in a few more hours of sleep. Or should she eat? Eh, to early in the morning to do that either.

Her cell phone rang just as she got home to her apartment complex and she fumbled with it locking her car. “Yeah?” she answered assuming that it would probably be Debbie.

“Hello there,” Patrick Roy said in French. “I was wondering if you had any empty slots for today?”

Katrina rolled her eyes and continued to walk to her building. “Maybe, depends, I’m off today technically. How bad is your back?”

“Not too bad,” Patrick said, “But I don’t want it to get worse, yes?”

“I wouldn’t think so,” Katrina replied. “Okay you baby you can either come over now, or I can see you at the practice facility later.”

“Now is good,” Patrick said.

“Okay then, shit,” Katrina said, “Shit I can’t do it now, Patty it’ll have to be later come to think of it.” She kicked her door in anger; Patrick always paid her three to four times as much as Debbie, what a friggin’ waste!

“Why not now?” Patrick asked sounding hurt and whiny.

“Cause I left all my oils and my table at Debbie’s house, so I don’t really have anything to work with honey,” She said and she slammed her door shut and flopped down on her couch, kicking off her boots. “It’ll have to be later because I ain’t going back to Debbie’s to get the stuff.”

“Why would you leave everything there?” Patrick asked with a bite in his voice as if to inform her that she were the most brainless inconvenient woman to ever cross the face of the Earth. Ah yes, he was that type of man, in his good graces a girl could easily get the world but annoying him and he’d smash you like a grape. “How could you forget all of that stuff?” Now his tone of voice informed her that she had just failed him in a big way.

“I didn’t forget anything,” Katrina snapped, “I left it there, all of it to piss her off okay?”

“Well why were you doing that?” he asked, petulant, as if he were ready to stomp his foot and throw a tantrum. She could imagine him as a small freckle faced, ginger haired child not getting what he wanted.

“None of your business,” Katrina said, “Nosy bastard.”

“Well if it interferes with other peoples…”

“God I just felt like being a bitch okay? Fuck off, I’ll just see you later okay Patty cakes?” Katrina snapped but she smiled, wondering how red in the face Patrick was now, if he wanted to strangle her now and was pissed because he couldn’t do anything about it.

“Did you two get in a fight?” he asked in a brighter voice, probably realizing that she wasn’t about to be bullied by him.

“Why would you wanna know, Granny?” she asked, “You into trading gossip for blow jobs with your wife or something?”

Patrick laughed. “It’s an idea.”

“Aw, she ain’t putting out for you?”

Patrick laughed again. “I won’t tell her if you don’t want me to.”

“Are you bored or something?” Katrina asked, “Because I’m on a cell phone here.”

“I’m bored,” Patrick said as if repeating her words and then agreeing with them. “There’s nothing to do, and a massage would really help out.”

“Well unless you want to go shopping for a table and oils with me, you ain’t getting one now, why don’t you call your teammates and do something with them, and I’ll get to you at practice today, think you can hold out?” She imagined him grimacing with those dimples, that comical silly face of his.

“Fine,” he sighed, “Later then, my dear.” He hung up.

Katrina sighed and stretched and tossed her phone onto the couch and then went to her answering machine which beeped with two messages. She clicked the button and then she flung her coat onto the floor and began to unbutton her shirt.

“Hello, Ms. Volanges,” a vaguely familiar male voice said, “I don’t know if you received my last message, but this is Father Patrick Mallory…” Katrina rolled her eyes. That psycho again? “…and I have a very, very important message to give to you. I don’t want to talk about it on a recording device so could you please answer your phone or call me so we can arrange a face to face meeting? My number is…”

“Could care less,” Katrina replied and she hit the delete button and then went to the next message.

“Yo, Kat,” Scott Parker’s voice rang out. “I’m on my cell, funniest thing, Debbie just called me over to her house, said she was all naked and with scented oils and shit. Heh, just thought you’d like to know in case you into gossiping and shit, hell if you want to stop me you can call me up and we can hook up instead. Heh, the Captain’s gonna kick my ass! See ya later…”

Katrina laughed. “So the bitch does have some balls, priceless.” She tossed her shirt over the couch and yawned as she crawled into bed, pondering taking off her bra as she fell asleep.

Atlanta, Georgia—1997

“Did anyone see you?”

“Yeah,” Katrina said, not understanding why Huxton hadn’t made one move to touch her or ask her what happened, not showing one friggin iota of compassion or worry. Oh, yeah, there was worry on his face, just not for her so much as for his own reputation. “Just the lady who let me in, and, maybe someone else.” By the way I’m bleeding from my lip, asshole, I could use a tissue thank you very much.

“Who else?” he asked, his face pale and he licked his lips over and over again as if he were about to vomit.

“James I need…”

“Who else?” He snapped.

Katrina narrowed her eyes and she didn’t answer him, she stood straight, as straight as her aching back and legs would allow her and she tilted her chin up. In that moment any love or affection she’d ever nursed for James Huxton, District Attorney of the city of Atlanta, fizzled away into irritated contempt. He couldn’t look her in the eye. He had his slim hands in his pockets and he walked with heavy steps to a table upon which rested a crystal decanter of brandy and he poured a drink, she assumed for himself. To Katrina’s surprise, he came to her, and she smelled his musky cologne, and the rosewater of the handkerchief he always carried in his breast pocket, and for one moment she wanted to be on his lap, her cheek against his throat, knowing that he would make everything okay again. Instead of that comfort, however, he handed her the brandy.

“For me?” She asked and she held the heavy glass gingerly at her fingertips, the amber liquid wafting a strong smell of liquor.

“You look like you need it,” he said quietly.

Men are useless, worthless, disgusting sons of bitches. Katrina slowly tipped the glass, looked Huxton straight in the eye as the liquor poured slowly and steadily, pattering on the carpet at her feet, splattering, soaking. “I don’t,” she replied.

He closed his eyes and his cheeks blushed and he shook his head. “God dammit little girl what do you want me to do?”

“I need your help, James!” Katrina exclaimed, “I thought you loved me, that you’d be concerned, God look at the state I’m in, I can pull up my skirt and show you the friggin blood if it makes any….”

“Don’t,” he said putting up his palm as if telling her he’d had enough. “Don’t.”

Brushed off, he’s looking at me as if I’m a piece of trash, Katrina thought and it hurt her, her chest felt as if her heart had blown up. “James, I’m sorry,” she whispered. “I didn’t mean to come in here now with your party going on and everything and no one saw me except the help, but you have to listen to me, that son of a bitch Clinton killed Momma today, and Chloe is…”

“He killed Chloe?” Huxton asked with a scowl, a professional crinkle between his eyes and his arms crossed as if to say, ah now here is something I can deal with, another case to prosecute, and if successfully done, sure public approval and votes.

“I don’t know!” Katrina exclaimed. “She… Huxton please help….”

“James you haven’t handled this yet? The Governor is asking about you, you’ve taken more than a standard excusal to the little boy’s room darling.”

Katrina’s breath caught in her throat and Huxton turned around, his hand over his stomach. “Darling I was just….”

“Getting back to the party,” Mrs. Huxton said in her syrupy genteel accent. “The Governor of this state will not appreciate your absence any longer, I’ll handle this.”

Huxton didn’t say another word and he didn’t look back. At that point, as she watched him walk away, Katrina understood that everything he told her had been a lie, more than that, a fantasy. The man himself had been fantasizing just as deeply as she had been, but at the end of the day here was the woman with the power and the dreams. Katrina’s only wish was that she looked more presentable.

Mrs. Huxton had brown hair, cut and framing her angular face, blue eyes, make up, an expensive dress, expensive shoes and a mouth that could bite the head off a rabbit without so much as a second thought. Katrina clenched her fists and tried to stand tall as the woman approached her, but her knees buckled slightly and she couldn’t help taking one step back. Perhaps for Mrs. Huxton that was the blood in the water, and the older woman drew her hand back and slapped Katrina so hard, the girl bit her lip and felt the carpet burn her palms when she hit the ground.

Her face felt numb and her eyes felt as if they were going to pop out as she came to her senses and she touched her freshly bleeding lip with her fingertips. Nothing Clinton had done to her in the past ten hours made her feel as humiliated and violated as she did right now and she couldn’t look up at the woman.

“You little piece of trash how dare you come to my house and my husband on a night when we’re entertaining every human in this state that actually matters,” Mrs. Huxton hissed. “You’re very fortunate they didn’t see you, do you realize how much damage you could have done you little slit?”

Katrina spat a mouthful of blood onto the carpet and felt satisfied with the flower of red that stained it. She looked up. “My aim was not to bother your party, Mrs. Huxton, I need help.” If Mrs. Huxton was the head of this household, then Katrina would have to negotiate with her.

“Money?” she said. And she had a pocket book ready, clicked it open and took out a handful of it.

“NO,” Katrina snapped.

“Everything is fixed with money,” she replied. “And if it’s a baby you’re carrying inside you, girl, dig it out of your womb because you ain’t seeing a red cent for it’s welfare or life and I’ll make sure myself the little bastard does not see its sixth month of life, girl. So you better take this money now because it’s all you’ll ever get from us.”

Katrina sat up, pressing the back of her hand against her lip. “James lied to me.”

“Oh you’re a little girl who believes stories,” Mrs. Huxton replied. “Next time you won’t be so stupid if you got any sense in your brain. But you won’t keep him, he doesn’t belong to you, he’s mine. In fact, you ain’t ever gonna see him again.”

“I hate him.” Katrina replied. “But I need help, I need your help if that’s who I’m supposed to be asking, and I don’t want money. I don’t care about Huxton, you can keep him, but I can’t do what I need to on my own.”

Mrs. Huxton put her hands on her hips. “Stand up,” she said softly.

Katrina did and the woman stepped forward and pinched her chin with her fingers squinting and looking at her as if she were a stock animal.

“My God,” Mrs. Huxton said, “You’re a child ain’t ya.” Katrina heard a little bit of fear in her voice, “James Huxton you fool.”

Katrina swallowed and then Mrs. Huxton let her face go. “James didn’t do that to you, no of course he wouldn’t.”

“I don’t have anyone..” Katrina began.

“Stop,” Mrs. Huxton said. “Girl listen to me right now. Your first mistake in life is thinking you can’t do something on your own or you need a man to do it for you. Women are the most powerful creatures on Earth, especially the pretty ones, we can make these stupid men do anything we want for us, and in your case, especially cause you’re young. Which is why I want you on a bus and out of this state before morning, or I swear to God you’re gonna regret the day your Daddy squirted you outta his pants you hear me?”

“But Mrs. Huxton, I swear to God I won’t tell anyone about me and James I just want help with….”

“Help yourself girl!” Mrs. Huxton snapped. She grabbed Katrina roughly by the wrist and stuffed the money into it. “You ain’t getting help from me or from my husband, rely on yourself. Now get on out of here, and figure out the solution to your own problems.”

Katrina breathed out and she held out her hand and dropped the cash onto the floor. “I don’t need your money,” she whispered.

Mrs. Huxton half smiled. “Now there’s a step in the right direction. You might learn something yet.”