Dirty Blonde (8 page)

“Second floor?”

“Third, sweetie, but I’ll make it worth your while.” He laughed again, and the sound echoed in the cold night. Airplanes hung suspended in the flight path overhead, their red lights twinkling in a perfect line, like a strand of precious rubies.

They reached the top floor and Cate followed, permitting herself to be led as they took a right at the head of the stairs. Elvis withdrew something from his jeans pocket, an old-fashioned key hanging from a plastic diamond scored with 325, and he had no trouble finding the room.

“You’ve done this before,” she said, her heart starting to race as he opened the door and flicked on the light.

“The hell I have, darlin.’ I been savin’ myself for you.”

Cate laughed, standing on the metal threshold, thrilled and nervous. A long hallway led into a small room, containing only a double bed covered with a brown-patterned quilt and a metal TV cart next to a louvered closet.

“Come on in,” he said, and before she had time to think about it, he pulled her gently inside and shut the door behind her, and she found herself suddenly wanting him when he wrapped strong arms around her and kissed her once, tasting of beer.

“Against the door,” Cate heard herself say.

“Whatever,” he murmured, easing her back against the door in the dark hallway. She was on fire, and his hands grabbed at her skirt, pushing it up. He moaned when he felt bare skin.

“Watch out,” Cate said, giggling. He kissed her deeply, and she reached up around his shoulder, feeling his leather jacket under her hands, which was when she saw a flash of gold, darkly.
The bracelet
. Cate still had it on. She couldn’t wear it here. She turned her head from the kiss, pressing him back, saying, “Wait, wait.”

“What?” he asked, his hair mussed in front, his expression bewildered. He reached for her, but she was trying to undo the bracelet. He reached again. “Come here. Come back here!”

“Wait a minute,” Cate said firmly, holding up her hand, and he stopped, then eased down the hall and flopped backward on the bed, waiting.

“Women!” Elvis laughed, throwing up his arms. “What is it? A weddin’ band? Wear it or don’t, I don’t give a damn.”

But the bracelet wouldn’t come off. Cate couldn’t undo the clasp link, and Elvis was too drunk to help. It made her stop. And think.
What am I doing?
Graham. Marz. Sherman. She couldn’t keep this up. It was wrong. Inappropriate, not only because she was a judge. Because she was a woman. She wouldn’t do this again. Never, ever.

“Hurry!” Elvis hollered, sitting upright, but Cate had already pulled her skirt down and gone partway down the hall.

“Listen, wait, I’m sorry. I’m sorry, but I don’t want to do this. I can’t.”

“
What
?”

“I have to go, I’m sorry.”

“Now, you want to leave?” Elvis sat up, his dark eyes wide with disbelief. “You can’t do that! You got me up here, bitch!”

“I know, I’m sorry. Here.” Cate reached reflexively into her purse, grabbed her wallet, and handed him cash, trying vainly to make it right. “Here, this is for your trouble. I’m sorry.”

“You can’t pay me!” he shouted, batting her hand away. Cash scattered in the air.

Cate hurried to the door but Elvis launched himself off the bed, rushed down the hall, and reached her just in time to straight-arm the door shut with a loud
bang.

“No!” Cate cried, but he smashed his mouth against hers and pinned her against the door with his body. She tried to scream but his mouth was covering hers, his beery tongue thrusting inside. She tried to push him off but he shoved his hand crudely up her skirt.

“Hel—,” she screamed, but he mashed his hand over her mouth and started to pull up her skirt in front. He wedged her legs open against the door and plunged his hand between them. His fingers probed cruelly, hurting her, and he grunted in satisfaction.

Cate gave way to panic. He was going to rape her. He was enjoying her pain. No one knew she was here. He could even kill her. She must have been crazy to come here. She torqued her head this way and that. Trying to get free. To scream. To think. Cate trounced with all her might on his foot, driving her stiletto into his instep.

“Owwhh!” he shouted, releasing her and bending over, and in that split second Cate opened the door, bolted out, and half-ran, half-stumbled down the stairs to the second floor.

“You bitch! You bitch!” he yelled, running onto the balcony after her. It was raining hard again, but she kept pounding down the stairs, almost slipping on the last flight, streaking to her car, and chirping it unlocked on the run. She jumped inside while he kept screaming at her from the balcony.

Cate wasn’t a block away when her cell phone started ringing.

CHAPTER 8

Cate slammed on the gas, ignoring the cell phone. Probably Graham, again. She gripped the wheel and sped away from the motel like a madwoman. Rain pounded the car and bounced off the white hood. Her heart stuck in her throat, every muscle tensed.

She sped past the row houses lining the street, and teenagers crowded into a hoagie shop with a glass storefront. The counter was full at an open Dunkin’ Donuts, and the signs of normal life let her breathe easier. Had she gotten away? Was she safe?

The traffic light turned red, and Cate pulled up, checking for Elvis’s van in the rearview mirror. No van. Her heartbeat slowed. He wouldn’t come after her. She waited, calming, at the traffic light.

Ring ring!
She looked over, and her cell phone had slid out of her purse onto the seat. GINA, read the green letters glowing in the dark.
Huh
? Gina never called at this hour. It could be some emergency with Warren. Cate flipped the phone open. “Geen?”

“I saw on the news that—wait, did I wake you?” Gina said, and Cate felt sudden tears come to her eyes at the sound of her friend’s voice. Everything was falling apart, and she finally felt safe enough to cry. “Cate? What’s the matter?”

“I’m fine.” Cate tried to hold it together. “I really am—”

“What happened? Did you see Graham tonight? Where
are
you?”

“God knows, by the airport.” Cate looked out the car window, but between the waterworks and the rain, she could barely read the sign. “Ellsworth Avenue? A stupid pink motel? Can you believe this?”

“What are you doing
there
?”

“Screwing up my life.” Cate wiped her eyes but they kept welling up. “This man I went with…he attacked me at the motel. I was almost raped.”

Gina gasped. “Graham?”

Oh, the irony.
“No, someone else.”

“Oh my God! I’ll meet you. I’ll get the neighbor to sit. I’ll be right there.”

“No, don’t. I’m going home.”

“But you’re upset. You can’t drive.”

“I can, too. This is ridiculous. I’m acting like a baby.” Cate didn’t know what was happening to her. Nothing was working. She was losing control. “What about Warren? Is he okay?”

“Fine. Go home, and I’ll be right there. Drive
carefully
!”

“Love you.” Cate flipped the phone closed and accelerated, the windshield wipers working frantically. She drove ahead, but in the next minute heard a loud bobbling sound from the front of the car. A flat tire.
Not my night.
She hit the car’s button for Roadside Assistance, and a female operator was piped through her car speakers. “We’ll have a truck there as soon as possible,” the voice assured her, echoing like the Wizard of Mercedes.

Cate hung up, counting her blessings. She called Gina to tell her she’d be late, but there was no answer. She flipped the phone closed and waited in the driver’s seat, wiping her eyes and trying to get over herself.

It’s easier to fix a flat than a life.

An hour and a half later, Cate had reached her town house in Society Hill and pulled into her driveway behind Gina’s brown Pathfinder. A plume of smoky exhaust rose from the back of the car. Gina must have been running the engine to stay warm, all this time. Cate grabbed her bag and got out of the car. At least the rain had stopped.

“Cate!” Gina burst out of her car, arms outstretched in her parka, and hurried to the Mercedes. “What took you so long? I forgot my cell, so I couldn’t call.”

“Sorry, the truck took forever to come.”

“What truck?” Gina gave her a huge hug. “I was so worried. I never heard you cry like that.” Her expression looked stricken, and loose hair fell from its ponytail. This time, her trademark high drama was in order. “What
happened
?”

“It’s a long story,” Cate answered, and they went inside the house side by side.

“So that’s it, all of it,” Cate said, sitting at the round Moser table in her kitchen, behind coffee in her favorite mug. Halogen lights of multicolored Murano glass hung overhead on a track, making a cozy glow against walls of warm tangerine. She felt so happy to be home, safe in her kitchen and restored to her life. She told Gina everything and watched her friend’s expression change from freaked out to extremely freaked out, though she merely listened in silence. But her brown eyes glistened when she heard what had happened at the motel.

“You should call the cops on that bastard, I swear.” Gina nodded angrily. “But you know, you can’t. It’d be all over the papers.”

“I don’t know if there’s enough for attempted rape, legally.” Cate felt raw and ugly. “So, you hate me now?”

“No, not at all.” Gina slumped in her chair, lost in her gray PENN sweats. The plaid flannel collar of her pajama top stuck up from her sweatshirt. “But I
am
mad you didn’t tell me about these guys you go with. You wouldn’t have told me about tonight if I hadn’t called you. How long have you been doing this, you idiot?”

Cate thought back. “About a year, maybe a year and a half.”

“From when you were at Beecker? You were a partner in a law firm.” Gina shook her head in disbelief, and a dark curl fell from behind her ear. “I don’t know why somebody so smart would do something so dumb.”

“Honestly? Me, neither.”

“That’s not good enough, Cate.” Gina smoothed her hair back. “You can do better than that. It’s self-destructive. So what’s it about? You have dates.”

“That’s not the same thing.”

“So, why then? Think about it.” Gina looked at her directly, in the frank way that was second nature to her, and Cate knew she was right.

“It happens when I feel stressed. It’s like some people reach for a drink, or a drug. I pick somebody up.”

“Yuck.”

“Thanks.”

“Are you a sex addict?”

“No.” Cate recoiled. “It’s not like I do it all that often.”

“How often?”

“Once a month at most, and in my defense, men have been doing it for centuries. Have you seen a Budweiser commercial lately?”

Gina scoffed. “Oh, are you justifying it now? If you’re so proud of it, why keep it a secret?”

“Hey, stop being right.”

“It’s not about gender, it’s about you. That behavior, it’s not you.” Gina shook her head, adamant. “You leave Graham, a normal man, a stockbroker who gave you something from Tiffany’s on the
third date.
That breaks
all
the rules. And you leave
him
—to run to a
rapist
?”

Cate fingered the bracelet, still on her wrist. “Never again.”

“You’re stopping now? Swearing off working-class hunks? How could you let yourself be
used
like that?”

“I didn’t see it that way.” Cate considered it. “I guess I just feel more comfortable with that kind of man. Like my husband. I knew him from high school, remember?”

“Barely. The construction guy?”

“Yes. It’s where I came from. I worked to get where I am, I wasn’t born to it. My mother never went to college. I’m not the Ritz, I’m the pink motel.”

“You make fun of Dr. Phil. You should watch.” Gina scowled. “You loved your mom, right?”

“Yes, she was great. She was devoted to me. After my dad left, she got a job at my school, in the office. It was her and me.” Her mother had died right after Cate had graduated from college, and Cate missed her every day. “It was us against the world. She worked at my school, for the principal. People thought we were trying to be better than them because she wanted college for me. She protected me against everything—the mean nun at school, the monster at night, everything.”

“She and your dad broke up when you were how old?”

“Three.”

“And you didn’t see him again? No visitation or anything?”

“No. He was gone. You know all this—”

“So obviously, you have abandonment issues with men.”

“So what? Who doesn’t?”

Gina didn’t laugh. “You’re a smart woman, Cate. Let’s figure this out. Something must have triggered this behavior. If it started a year and a half ago, what was happening then, in your love life?”

Cate could barely remember. “I was seeing that guy at Schnader. That one you hated. Marc With a C.”

“Narcissist Alert. Watch out for French cuffs. I told you but you didn’t listen.”

Cate smiled. “We broke up about that time, but I wasn’t serious about him anyway.”

“But wasn’t that when they started talking about you for appointment to the bench?”

Cate thought back. “Yes.”

“Marc With a C was threatened by that, I remember you saying. He didn’t want people calling him Judge Marc With a C.”

Cate smiled again. “More or less. You remember my life better than I do.”

“Thank you. You were kind of surprised when your name came up for the vacancy. You thought you weren’t political. You didn’t think you’d get it.”

Cate laughed. “Oh, I knew I wasn’t political. I didn’t leave work early enough to vote, even.”

“And they began the background check and evaluated your credentials, before you could be confirmed. Maybe you were sabotaging yourself, in a way. Worried they wouldn’t find you qualified.”

“You know better than that. The scrutiny for us isn’t like for appellate judges. The confirmation hearing is pro forma. We’re basically appointed. I knew I had the credentials, and I was a woman, which didn’t hurt. It played out in my favor that I wasn’t political. They were so polarized, I was the only one they all agreed on for the job.”