Chapter 41: Little Sisters Have Adventures Without Rock Stars

Kat

Denizen is not turning out like I hoped.

It's a dance club. When Bridge asked me to come tonight, I thought we were coming to dance. I need to dance.

I have a lot of pent-up energy.

Like, a lot.

It really sucks when your gorgeous, unbelievably sexy and incredibly adorable boyfriend introduces you to sex in the most wonderful ways. Makes you feel like the Queen of Sex, then jets off on tour, and you haven't seen him in nearly two months.

He left me with taste of heaven and and it's always on the tip of my tongue now.

Especially in a place like Denizen, which is a just a pre-game for sex for probably everyone in this whole damn club, except for me.

Well, and Seb. Seb's partner is doing an artist-in-residence thing in Europe somewhere, so he's hard-up, too.

I turn toward the incredibly handsome man beside me and briefly consider asking him to dance, since Street has bailed, and Bridge regrets her shoes and refuses to dance anymore, and I don't know the other members of this party well enough to be the get-up-let's-go-girl. Everyone here looks pretty drunk and chill, except for me and Seb.

But then, I dismiss the idea. It would be weird. Sebastian Morrigan is like thirty-five, and my painting instructor, and we are also sort of working together right now, because he's agreed to host a charity event for Marianne's Foundation at his gallery. Marianne has designated me the creative liason to this project. That's a huge responsibility, considering I've only been working for the MdM Foundation for two months.

It's a little crazy how fast my life is changing, but it's all good.

Marianne called me to her office two weeks after I moved to WITCH campus and had me sit on her couch beside her as she pulled up a picture of Matt and Trace. A proof of the two of them from the Rolling Stone shoot.

This particular shot will never be distributed publicly. Matt was laughing and shaking Trace by the shoulder, trying to get him to loosen up, but that was before Matt realized how hard it is for Trace to be "man-handled" by pretty much anyone but me. The strain on Trace in that moment is evident in his body language, captured forever in photo. He's got a pissed off grimace as he rolls back on his heels away from Matt. The way he's holding up his hands could be a defense as easily as a surrender to Matt's playfulness.

"Look at their eyes," Marianne murmured, spreading her fingers on the screen of her Ipad, magnifying the picture. "So alike, but so different. Matt's full of nothing but pride and Trace's so...wary."

"He's always been like that," I said softly. "With everyone but me. And maybe the band."

"It just kills me to think of what that doll went through," she blinked back unshed tears. Then she summoned her steel. "So we are going to heal him, and we are going to pay it forward for him. The healing is mostly on Trace and you and Matt and Gina. But the paying it forward? That's on me. I'm going to work like we are trying to eradicate domestic violence world wide, but the truth is, if we can stop what happened to Trace from happening to one other kid, it will be worth it."

Sometimes, you have those moments when everything comes clear. My whole life, I never really had a passion. I love painting and drawing as a hobby, but I never thought I'd be a professional artist. I never knew what I wanted to do. That's because, I had to be there, in that moment with Marianne, for my destiny to present itself.

I sit up straighter, look her in the eye, and say, "I want to help. I know I've only been here a couple of months, and I'm just a newbie WITCH but this is what I'm supposed to do—be a part of this. I think I always knew what was happening to Trace and I just didn't know how to help him. If I had ever said one simple thing to my mom, or dad, or maybe even to Ashlynn —that I thought Trace's dad hurt him—maybe everything would have been different. Maybe Trace would be so much farther down the road to healing. Maybe my sister wouldn't have brain damage and a drug addiction. So I want to help empower victims and witnesses," I whispered. "I more than want to. I have to. It's what I'm supposed to do."

Marianne didn't hold back her tears as she hugged me. "Yeah, I think you are supposed to do that, too. That's why you are here with me and not taking a make-up seminar with the other witches."

Over the past six weeks, I've been in Marianne's office everyday, taking meetings with her as she gathers a task force of advisers to launch a new domestic violence initiative as the main thrust of her foundation. Most of that is out of my depth right now. Marianne just wants me there to listen and be in on the ground floor of her new endeavor. It will be a while before I'm involved in the high level stuff—probably not until after I finish college.

Speaking of that, I've made some decisions there, too.

UCLA has a Public Affairs major, and that's what I'm shooting for. It will help me grow the skills to go into public service and non-profit work. I'm so excited about it that I've decided to go ahead and start some community college pre-reqs in the fall, instead of deferring college a whole year. Hopefully, I'll be accepted to UCLA next year and still be on track. Trace and Marianne say I'll get in easily with my academic record and with Marianne as a reference, but...there's a big college scandal rocking the country right now—celebrities paying to get their kids in colleges when they don't have the academic records normal kids would need— and I'm worried that having celebrity connections as an applicant might actually make it harder to get in.

So Marianne has given me a special project to work on and something that I can cite as a significant achievement. Maybe even write my college essays about. She's put me in charge of planning the launch event for her new domestic violence initiative. The task's force initial focus is domestic violence education, and the tagline they've chosen is: Leave a Loving Marc—a play on both the del Marco brand and the idea that the only marks a person should leave on another are loving ones. No hurtful marks. Only loving marks.

When the Marianne's group branded #lovingmarcs, I knew exactly what kind of launch event we needed—an art show displaying those loving marks. instead of violence. I immediately went to my art instructor Seb Morrigan, and asked if he would help. He's known Marianne for fifteen years—since he was a struggling artist and Street's art teacher. Now, he's a successful photographer and artist focusing on photorealism, and he often donates both shoots and works of art for Marianne's charities.

This time, however, he's donating his gallery and an entire show for the launch. He's shooting all the loving marks as they are administered. All kinds of loving marks—children finger-painting on their parents, parents slobbering their darlings with kisses and raspberries, friends doing each other's make-up, couples getting their wedding bands inked permanently, or lover's using paint as foreplay. Seb and I have been sketching out preliminary scenes and I've been recruiting real people in real circumstances to be the models. Some famous, some not.

The del Marco's will feature prominently.Bridge and Row are going to be doing each other's make-up, which should be hilarious, given their different styles. I'm sure Row is going to make Bridge a goth queen and Row will be unrecognizable—and probably more uncomfortable than Bridge—with her natural beauty on display.

I'm trying to talk Street into face-painting little Alley like a Kiss band member. Marianne loves that idea, but Street insists Alley will never sit still for that, and that he'll end up wearing all the paint. Which I think would be an adorable series of photographs, and I'm sure Matt would buy the whole series—a way for him to launch this new endeavor with a personal investiture, but Street is so shy when it comes to the public del Marco stuff.

Unlike his father, who readily agreed to be part of the show.

The capstone series will be a shoot of Matt del Marco and five-year old Lane playing guitars together. Lane is obsessed with learning to play. He's been playing so much that his cute little fingers are starting to callous, so part of the shoot will involve Matt and Lane showing their fingers and Matt teaching Lane how to care for his marked fingers.

I got the idea for that shoot at Matt and Marianne's house last week, when Lane was crying about a jagged edge of skin on his middle finger and Matt was making it all better pretending to eat his fingers while working some kind of special secret del Marco healing oil into his finger tips.

I'm a little nervous about Matt and Lane's shoot. I know it will be turn out beautifully, but I'm not sure how Trace will react to that. I know his other dad Ross gave him his first guitar and taught Trace his first songs, which Trace easily mastered before moving on to lessons. So the photos of Matt and Lane will probably evoke both good and bad memories in Trace. I guess that's why I haven't told him anything about this project yet. But I will, because I want him at the launch.

The show is going to be fantastic. Seb is a great photographer, and he'll capture the beauty of all these moments. He's also planning elevate the beauty in the photo show by painting several pieces in the photorealistic style. We have all the shoots lines up for the next few weeks, and then he'll have several months to paint. The launch party is mid October.

Tonight, however, Seb and I have been having a disagreement. He thinks Trace should be in the show, and I'm not comfortable with asking him to do that. This is Trace's most guarded wound. I know he will be touched by Marianne's efforts, and I know he will support the program because it will help others, but she and I have agreed that in no way will we ask Trace to speak publicly about his abuse or even reveal that his struggles are the inspiration for Marianne's new direction.

So Seb doesn't know what he's asking, when he's asking me to recruit Trace as a subject for one of the shoots. It's just too personal of a topic for him. Tonight is the first time I've pulled rank on Seb and refused one of his ideas for the show. I told him Trace was not ready to become a part of the del Marco philanthropies. I explained he and Matt were focusing on their personal relationship first. I said the discussion was closed.

Seb didn't let it go too easily.

"You are the most stubborn girl I've ever met. Not too many people say no to me and walk away without unloving marks," he warns as he pokes me in the shoulder. I just roll my eyes at him. He talks a big game, but I've yet to see Seb's supposed vicious side. Catty, yes. Predator, no.

So now Seb and I are about the only two members of our party left in VIP, and I'm not sure we are cool or if he's truly angry for my refusal to go with his "vision" for the show. He's a little temperamental, as are most artists. When I shoot him another side-eye to check out his expression, he sees it.

Then he leans forward and freshens our drinks from a bottle of tequila. "I forget sometimes that you are only eighteen, Katheryn. You look so much older, and you handle yourself well. I didn't mean to upset you, but I can't say that I'm sorry for trying to push you out of your comfort zone. You are my student, as much as we are partners in this show, and it's my job to challenge you—artistically. I'm going to keep pushing. In every way."

"It's after hours, Seb."

"Agreed," he says with a broad grimace as he rubs his blonde goatee. "Tonight, we are just two lonely hearts."

He puts a shot in my hand, raises his blond eyebrow and says, "Here's to either drowning our desire, or getting so drunk we don't remember cheating on our asshole lovers who would rather work than fuck."

I giggle. He's so funny how open he is about his sex-life. I clink the glasses and knock it back with him. "First option for me. But feel free to shop," I wave a hand toward the dance floor.

"Wrong club for that," he grumbles.

"Which is why you came here, remember?" I remind him, patting his knee.

We settle back casually, and I can't help looking around. I'm still in tourist-mode, after only two months in LA. There are several famous people in this VIP section, and I'm trying not to fangirl over a movie-star. I think I've seen pictures of him and Mac together. I'll have to remember to ask her about him.

Then, just I like conjured her with the thought, Mac is striding through the VIP section, looking amazing in all silver and spangles, with her killer face on. The movie star casually reaches out, grasping her wrist as she walks by him. She stops, and I can clearly read her lips as she says, "Fuck off," and stares pointedly at his hand on her wrist. He releases her and she doesn't even look at him again. Her eyes swing toward me briefly but then above me, as she makes her way toward us.

"I need you," she says without preamble, and I realize she's talking to Ben Sullivan, my security guy. Then she looks down at me, "Hey girl. I'm sorry, I need him, which means, you should probably come, too."

I jump up. "Of course. I didn't even know you were here! What's going on?"

Mac bites her lips, and looks at Seb. She doesn't know him, so she's not going to speak freely in front of him.

"This is Seb Morrigan," I say. "He's an artist, a photographer, and a friend of Matt and Marianne's."

"Cool. Good for you," is all Mac says to him, then she looks at Ben meaningfully. "I need you to come with me now. Fill you in on the way." Typical Mac. She trusts no one without a NDA.

I shrug and roll my eyes at Seb. "See you, Monday?" I say apologetically.

He blows me a kiss. "But of course, dahling," he says theatrically, and busies himself pouring more tequila.

I wave good-bye to Seb as Mac drags me out of VIP. Ben is on her left. "Where's your man?" he says.

"If you mean, Adam, he's in the custody of the LAPD right now. If you mean the kid your agency sent us? Worthless. He disappeared in a crunch—after I gave him the eyes-on signal. This mess wouldn't have happened if I had you or John tonight. I sent him to find out what precinct they are taking Adam to."

"Goddamn. We need to get there before they book him. Otherwise he'll have to stay overnight to be arraigned."

"Wait...Adam's been arrested?" I cry.

"Shhhhh," Mac hisses as she looks around hastily and grabs my arm, pulling me close to her ear. "He's been detained. He is not getting arrested if we can help it...it's a sponsor and brand nightmare. So we need to make sure that fucking DevBlu doesn't press charges and Adam gets released, not booked."

I nod silently. I have a million more questions but I realize now, asking them where people can overhear is not a SCIC thing to do. I just keep my head down and keep pace with Ben and Mac as they dash out and into the limo.

Mac heads toward a young guy that screams "security" by a limo. He puts two things in her hand. "I've already told the driver where what station-house."

"Sit with us," she instructs him.

We pile into the limo. Mac looks down at the things in her hand. "You talked to him? He gave you these? He's okay?"

Mason nods. "He's fine. Cooperating fully with the police so they let him hand-off his personals. Don't want either of those in the effects locker," Mason nods. Mac looks down at the two objects in her hand. One is Adam's cell phone with probably many well-guarded contacts, the other thing I can't see because Mac has her fist closed around it.

Mac nods, gripping both items and crossing her hands over her chest.

"What do they have him on?" Ben asks Mason.

"Assault," Mason says grimly.

"Who?"

Mason shrugs. "Some British guy. Got the impression he's a big deal over there. At least he thinks he is. He's pissed. Threatening to press charges."

"Fuck," Ben says, then looks to Mac for the details.

"His name is DevBlu. Very popular rapper in the UK. Trying to cross to American hiphop. He's been picked up by a our label, so maybe..." Mac sighs. "I already called Dawes. I didn't get him. He hasn't called back yet."

"What happened?" Ben asks. "It's not like Adam to throw punches without cause."

"Dev came up to me, when Adam wasn't around. He wanted to talk about a collaboration, he's been seeking through Dawes. It wasn't the first time I heard about it, so I let him say his piece while he bought me a drink. I..." Mac averts her eyes. "I...the damn drink went down the wrong way, and I was choking and I tried to move away from him, and he could tell something was wrong, so he grabbed my arm...Adam misunderstood my panic and Dev's hands on me. He shoved him and then...punched him. Laid him out on the bar."

"And you said you gave Mason the signal to keep eyes on," he glares at Mason accusingly.

"No, this is eyes on," Mason makes the military two fingered gesture to his eyes. "This," he waggled to fingers down like a stick person walking, "is what you did. That means...walk-away, security guy, so you can have deniability in front of my jealous boyfriend who hired me for the night and might ask questions about what I saw later."

"Are you kidding me?" Mac laughs. "It's my job as a principal to make your job easy to navigate with my boyfriend?"

"No, it's not," Ben snaps and turns to Mason. "You're new to this firm, but we never walk away, and our principals never ask us to because they know we don't report on them to anyone, not even if the boyfriend engages us, pays us, or directs us when he's with the principal. Or if, in a moment of poor judgment, said boyfriend asks us what happened in his absence." He smiles at Kat. "Right, Kat?"

"Right," I beam at him. "Though Trace would never ask you to. And I doubt Adam would." I say to Mac.

Mac looks a little startled at my words, but she glares at Mason. "How in the fuck am I supposed to do this?" She jabs at her eyes, "when the person I'm asking you to keep eyes on is sitting right beside me? Jesus, I can't do business by insulting someone like that! That's basically saying, I might want to make a record with you, British rapper guy, but I might also have my guy put your ass on the floor if I feel like it."

Mason nods curtly. "See your point. Sorry. Miscommunication. Won't happen again."

"Fucking right it won't," Mac growls and looks at Ben meaningfully. He nods curtly. I'm pretty sure everybody in the limo but Mason knows Mason won't be securing Mac again.

Mac sighs and rubs her face, "Okay, so when we get to the precinct, I need to see DevBlu first."

Mason laughs. "You want to see the rapper, and not your boyfriend, first?"

"Oh my god, you are so fired from my detail," Mac snaps. "I just can't decide if you are fired because you are an idiot or an asshole."

"You're right, Mac," Ben says, redirecting, "He's not a good fit for you. But let's worry about that later. As soon as we get to the station house, we need to get you in to see DevBlu. Adam is far too smart and disciplined to antagonize police. If he was unharmed in the altercation, he is perfectly fine. The best thing you can do for him is to get Dev to drop the charges. Think you can do that? Alone? Because the cops aren't going to let me in to see him. They'll think I mean to intimidate him to alter his statement."

Mac looks a little panicked. I'm not sure why, Mac rivals Trace in bad-assery. Maybe the DevBlu guy did something that scared her?

"Ben, do you think they would let us both in to see Dev?" I ask, as I slide my fingers into Mac's. She looks at me blankly but at the same time, she grips my hand. Hard. Damn, she's got a grip. Must come from all that piano playing. I squeeze back.

Ben looks skeptical. "We'll be lucky to get Mac in."

Mac squeezes my hand even harder and let go. "It's okay. Actually, it's probably better if I talk to him alone."

The car is stopped at a red light. Mac presses the button. "How far?" she asks.

"About seven minutes away," the driver says.

Mac laughs a little hysterically. "Of course we are."

I'm a little bit worried about her. She's seems like she's cracking up, but again...artists...a little bit temperamental.

Mac tosses me the thing enclosed in her fist. It's a little blue Tiffany box. "Hang onto that for Adam, okay?" She says with a wave. "It's freaking me out right now. It's okay, you can look at it."

"What?" I say, but for some reason, I obediently open the box. "Holy fuck," I say, snapping the lid closed.

She smiles bitterly. "Yeah, it's pretty, if you are into tiny shackles."

I peek at it again. "Oh my god, Mac! I'm so sorry your engagement got ruined! Poor Adam! He's in a holding cell when he's supposed to be proposing to you! And how shitty for you! I'm really sorry." I look at her. "But you look perfect tonight. It can still be perfect. Maybe even better. Maybe he can propose in the jail cell? How cute that would be! With all the bars and stuff? It would be so perfect for you two, because...well...you know how you are, Mac."

Mac snaps her head at me, but then she shrugs and says, "Yeah, you right. It is the way I view marriage...like a prison sentence. It would be cute."

Like, I'm all for this. It could be so memorable!

"He'll just be in a detention room, not in lock-up, Kat," Ben says with exasperation in his voice.

"Shut-up, Killjoy!" That's what I call Ben. He is a total joykill, almost all the time. Super dependable, good guy, but no fun at all when he's on the job. "Don't listen to him, Mac. We'll get this all sorted out and then I'll find some nice lady cop with a soft spot and set it all up. We'll make them lock Adam up in a real cell. And you too. Just for the proposal. And then he'll say something amazing, and you'll say yes, and...dammit, we should have brought Seb! He's an amazing photographer!"

Mac lets out a peal of laughter. "I think Trace's rambling is rubbing off on you, Kat."

"Maybe," I concede. "But this is really exciting and I want it to be good for you. Like it shouldn't get ruined because of some random rapper."

Mac puts her fingers over her eyes and laughs some more. "Oh god, Kat. It's fine. I swear I think Adam carries that damn ring about half the time, trying to catch me in a moment of weakness. Tonight was not that night. I already turned him down again."

"What the fuck is wrong with you?" I blurt before I even realize I'm saying it.

Mac narrows her eyes at me. I slap my hand over my mouth.

"Swwrr, wirmm a wertle dwrn."

Mac peel my hand off my mouth. "What?"

"I said, sorry, I'm a little drunk."

Mac groans and rubs her eyes again. "So you think I'm fucking up rejecting all of Adam's proposals, huh?"

Mmmmm, not making the drunk honesty mistake again. "I don't know. I guess I'm personalizing it."

The security guys' eyes are glassing over. They are good at ignoring conversations they would rather not hear.

Mac is staring at me like I have green skin or something. "You really love Trace so much, don't you? Like if he were to propose to you today, you wouldn't even think about saying anything but yes?"

I snort. "Well, it's not an option for me. He's never fucking ever getting married again, so I try not to think about it."

"Okay, but say Trace had a change of heart. Or deliriously proposed to you while suffering from a fever or something. You are eighteen years old. You would really get married?"

"Well not anytime soon, no. We'd wait until I graduated from college probably. But it's always been him. He's the one. So of course I would say yes. We would just...walk down the aisle really slowly," I grin at her. "But, if in some delirious fever he proposed to me with a ring like this, he'd have to cut my finger off to take it back."

Mac plucks the ring casually from me and squints at it. Then she sighs and snaps the lid shut. The way she does it reminds me of the way I go to the freezer seeking ice cream and then slam it shut because I know I have to lose three pounds for the outfit I'm supposed to wear to the next WITCH hostessing.

Women denying their joy, both of us.

We arrive at the police station. As we trudge in, Mac grabs my hand. "Will you call Trace and let him know what's going on? I can't reach Dawes, but he's here in LA, and I really need him. Maybe Trace can reach him. And Marcy."

"Of course," I tell her. "Hey, are you ok? To talk to this Dev guy?"

She nods. "I have to be. Otherwise he'll press charges and once Adam is arraigned that's public record and it becomes a branding hassle. I have to talk Dev out of pressing charges." She turns to me. "How do I look?"

She looks perfect, except her lipstick is worn away. "Do you want some lip gloss?" I ask, zipping open my clutch. She takes it from me, waves the wand over her lips, and I correct the tiniest smudge for her.

"Better?" she asks.

"You look like the killer you are. Go get your man, girl."

"I really like you, Kat." She hugs me. "Don't lose that ring. It would make Adam sad to think I tossed it away, but I can't hold onto it. I have the crazy desire to try it on, and I'm afraid it would get stuck," she whispers.

When she pulls back, Mac the Maneater is in full control. She jerks her head at Ben and together they stride up to the desk sergeant.

I slink to the waiting room with Mason, and admire that ring again, but just for a few seconds. Before I even have a chance to call Trace, he's Facetiming me.

"Hey PrettyKitty," he growls in his fuck-me voice. His lying on his hotel bed, shirtless, waiting for me.

Phone sex is all we have.

Every time I see his face again, I'm speechless. I love him so much it steals my air, and I can't speak. For a moment, I forget why are doing this long-distance torture and I want to beg him to let me be his number one fangirl and join him on tour. Thankfully, by the time my body mutinies against my love-addled brain, and forces my lungs to gasp for air, my speech returns.

So does my truth: Trace doesn't need another fangirl. He needs a Marianne—an equal, a life partner, a shelter, a home. I have to do my part here in LA to grow into all that. For him, and for me. For us.

I just hope it doesn't take him fifteen years to get over his bullshit commitment issues like his bio-dad.

During my moment of breathless longing, Trace's lusty expression has faded. His eyes are roving my background. When an officer in uniform walks behind me, Trace sits up from his hotel bed, his brow dark with concern. "Where are you? What happened? Are you okay?"

"I'm okay, but I'm in a police station waiting room. Adam's been arrested for punching a rapper that pushed up on Mac at the club. Mac needs you to get in touch with Dawes. She can't find him."

Trace swears. "Okay. Hang up and call me back on audio and tell me everything you know."

Welcome back Kat! Were you glad to see her in action? Seems like Kat's come A LONG WAY in a couple of months.  Thoughts on her new roles and goals? What do you think about her Loving Marcs Art Show? How about her interactions with Mac? Do you think Kat had any impact on Mac, or vice versa?

Hit me back, I'd love to hear your comments! Also please vote/list/follow if you are enjoying the story! Thanks!