Impossibly Tongue-Tied (25 page)

Had she become a phone sex operator because she loved the power she had over men? Of course not, Nina answered emphatically. I only did it to pay our bills—both mine
and
Nathan's.

Didn't it disgust her to rant out all that filth, with her child playing in the next room?

“My child never heard me talk that way,” Nina answered calmly. “I only took calls when he was asleep. I did so in a closed room. And if Nathan wasn't home to look after him, I'd put on the BabyCam, so that I could monitor him while I worked.”

“‘Work,' huh? What a
quaint
euphemism for talking dirty at a buck a minute. Admit it,” Lavinia insisted, “You were turned on, too, dishing out all that verbal masturbation!”

“No, never,” Nina countered in a firm, clear voice. “If you say those phrases enough times, soon they mean nothing to you. They're just vacuous words. In fact, most times my mind was elsewhere. Usually I'd be making up a bed, or straightening a room while I was on the phone.”

“Vacuous words?” Lavinia thundered. “Come now, Nina, admit it! You
enjoy
knowing that you are getting men off by saying all those disgusting, naughty things to them, knowing that with a well-chosen phrase, you can physically incapacitate them!”

“Incapacitate them? Gee, Mr. Cross, I'm not a special ops navy SEAL, you know! Just a pretty good listener to a few lonely guys,” Nina replied with wide-eyed innocence.

“It just goes to prove that you're one helluva good actress,” Sam murmured appreciatively to Nina. “Jeez, I'm beginning to feel sorry for the poor saps who really fell for your lines—”

Suddenly he remembered how turned on he'd been the first time he'd heard the CD Lucinda had made of O—
Nina
—and Hugo. At the time she was fluffing up his pal, she was probably folding laundry, or something else just as mundane! He blushed, thinking about how he'd almost driven off the road just listening to her voice!

Lavinia agreed. “You'll certainly hold your own against Howard, and that's good, Nina, because he's going to do every thing he can to break you down, tear you up, and spit you out in front of that judge—and, unfortunately, a peanut gallery of press and gawkers.”

“You're joking, right? You mean it isn't going to be a private hearing?” Sam couldn't believe his ears.

“What, are you kidding? It's an election year, remember? Judge Jessup is running for the State Supreme Court, and Nina—along with every other ‘unfit mother'—is going to be his election issue.”

“So what you're saying is that I don't have a snowball's chance in hell of keeping Jake.” Tears welled up in Nina's eyes.

“Not necessarily. That depends on how well you can answer this question: Have you ever met any of your phone johns in person?”

Nina hesitated just a moment, but it was enough to make Lavinia frown.

“Yes,” Nina murmured. What she didn't add was that it had been
Sam
. “But it was only after—”

“Just answer the question, please, Ms. Harte!
Did you have sex with him?
”

Nina glanced over at Sam. Slowly she nodded.

“You just lost custody of Jake.” Lavinia took off her glasses and rubbed the bridge of her nose, a habit she had when things weren't going well.

Like now.

Nina closed her eyes for a moment. When she reopened them, she smiled and said brightly, “Heavens, no! My client is eighty-seven if he's a day! Even when we talked on the phone, it was only to commiserate about how poorly the Dodgers were doing. He thought of me as the Dodger-loving granddaughter he never had. In fact, he was upset when Jeff Weaver hit that pitching slump—”

“Good save, as long as you make it clear that the client is old and
not
wealthy. Just lonely,” Lavinia said dryly. “So be careful. If Cross catches you off guard, you're cooked, Nina.” She leaned across the table to make her point. “You've got to think of everything coming out of his mouth as mud. Remember, he wants to throw as much of it as possible on you, with the hopes that it sticks in the mind of the judge, and for that matter, everyone in the courtroom.”

“Don't worry, Lavinia. I'll remember,” Nina promised her meekly. “I can't afford to forget.”

The lawyer nodded. “Well, it's already after nine. I guess we should call it a night. We've certainly got a big day in front of us.”

Nina was silent as she and Sam rode the elevator the forty-
two stories down to the parking garage in the bottom of Lavinia's building. He, on the other hand, chattered away, about the difficulty he was having in rebuilding his client list (thirty-first floor), how good it felt to discover that his most valued clients were also his most loyal (nineteenth floor), and how relieved he would be when they both could put this behind them and get on with their lives…together…(eighth floor).

And that's when he leaned over to kiss her.

His mouth fell on hers hungrily, greedy for the pleasures it had enjoyed once, and now so sorely missed.

She didn't have the heart to struggle. Nor did she participate, however.

Realizing this, he pulled away.

The elevator did a little jump before coming to a halt on the underground parking garage level. “Ah! Here we are!” Nina said brightly. She started out the door. She hadn't taken three steps before he grabbed her by the hand, forcing her to face him.

“Okay, out with it.”

“What? I don't know what you—”

“Nina, tell me the truth: Why the cold shoulder?”

“It's—it's just, you know, this hearing. That's all—”

“No, it's not. It's something else.” His eyes searched hers for any telltale sign. Not seeing anything, he glanced away, disappointed. “Have it your way. I'd hoped we were beyond all the game playing, but if we're not, it's good to know that now. You're too good of a liar, I guess. Okay, well, I'll see you tomorrow in court. Good night.” He headed off in the direction of his car.

“What?” Suddenly Nina was angry. Her head was pounding from the anxiety she was feeling: over Lavinia's interrogation, the obvious bias she'd felt the other day from the family court evaluator, her fear of losing Jake, and Nathan's suspicions of Sam.

And now, to have Sam accuse
her
of lying to him—

Well, that was just too much!

He'd already gotten into his car and started the engine. She ran up to the driver's side window and tapped on it angrily. Surprised to see her standing there, he rolled it down.

“Don't—don't walk away from me like that!” She could barely contain her hurt. “Okay, you really want to know what's bothering me? I'll tell you:
I think you planned all of this!
”

“What? Are you crazy?” He couldn't believe what he was hearing. Whatever it was, though, he didn't want to hear it in a parking lot. “Get in the car.”

“No, I won't!” Nina retorted. “I'm tired of being at everyone's beck and call. If you want to talk to me, you can do so out—”

“Nina, I'm not going to stand there while you yell at me in front of a bunch of security cameras, only to watch it on
Extra
tomorrow night. I said GET IN!”

He had a point. Meekly, she did as ordered.

He turned to face her. “Okay, now, in the calmest voice you have—and believe me, I know you have one, because I've heard it firsthand in many a phone conversation—tell me about this conspiracy theory of yours.”

“It's not my theory. It's Nathan's. He thinks that you planned—”

“Whoa, whoa! Back up! How did Nathan get into this?”

“He…he came over to the apartment.”

“Oh. I see.” Sam closed his eyes, and shook his head.

“No, you
don't
see. Nothing happened between us.” The color rose in her cheeks.
Nothing except the fact that we kissed. And I almost let him take me in the kitchen…

“I take back what I said in the conference room. You're
not
that good of a liar. At least you aren't too convincing right now.” He slammed his hand on the steering wheel. The sound of his horn made them both jump.

“Okay, let me get this straight: what you're saying is that Nathan—brainiac that he is, and with not the least bit of a conscience for his role in any of this fiasco—has convinced you that none of this is his fault, and better yet, that it's all mine. That I devised some evil master plot to break up Donald Duck's marriage by introducing him to the horniest nympho in Hollywood. You know, someone who he'd be unable to resist, no matter how much he loved and cherished the wife who would do anything to help him, including stay up all night working as a phone sex operator, after working on her feet all day as a supermarket clerk.”

Angrily, he turned back to look at her. His eyes were damp. “And I did this all because I fell in love with…I fell in love with the sweetest person I've ever run across in this town, whom I happened to meet, by sheer fate, at the checkout counter of a store
I normally never go into
. Yeah, okay, I'll buy that. Maybe I can even sell it to Touchstone because it sure as hell would make a great chick flick. Hey, maybe we could get Scarlett, or Kate, or Clare to sign on to play you! Of course, they'd have to be open to going brunette—”

She'd been a fool.

He did love her. And while he might have been the catalyst
for the series of events that wrecked her marriage, it wasn't he who had walked out on her.

That had been Nathan.

In fact, Sam was doing everything to save her life, so that, eventually, they could share a life together. She could see that clearly now.

To even think that Sam had anything to do with Kat's desire for Nathan, or Nathan's desire for Kat, or for that matter, that he'd done it to get back into Kat's good graces was so ridiculous, so
stupid
—

Gently, she placed a finger on his lips to silence him. Then she stroked his cheek. If she could have climbed over the gearshift, she would have done so, right then and there. Instead, she leaned in so that her lips could find his once again, hungrily, greedy for the pleasures it had enjoyed once, and now so sorely missed…

But he didn't kiss her back.

Instead he muttered, “Frankly, I think your gut instinct is right. We should cool it some, until we've both had a chance to sort out our feelings.”

She nodded mutely. She'd now given him reason to doubt
her
.

All because she had listened to Nathan
.

“Nina, I do love you.” By the look in his eye, she had no doubt that was true. “But until you feel the same way about me, until you can say in your heart that Nathan means nothing to you anymore, I think we should let fate take its course.”

He was right, of course.

And they both knew that, at that very moment, Nathan was still entrenched deeply in her heart.

Then again, after tomorrow, that might not be the case.

Certainly they could wait one more day.

Once more, with heavy hearts, they went their separate ways.

 

Earlier that day, the very sexy, very tanned mailman whose route was the Century Park Plaza dropped two similar packages—both without return addresses—in East Building.

The first one went to
Exxxpose
's office, on the thirteenth floor. As always, Baxter was there to personally collect the mail himself. To hell with coffee breaks! He'd gladly forgo caffeine in favor of some of that sweet eye candy in U.S. Postal Service regulation shorts!

While most of Baxter Quinn's really hot tips on stars doing lots of naughty things came in via fervently whispered voice messages or quickly typed (and therefore typo-ridden) e-mails, every now and then Himbo the Mailman took Baxter's fantasy one step further by playing Santa, too. Well, today was one of those days, and
thank gawd
for that, considering the
horrible
funk Baxter was in over Serenity Lancaster's recent scoop on Nina's lascivious night gig.

After giving Himbo a come-hither wink and breathless thank you, Baxter went back to his office, closed the door, and opened the anonymous package.

It was postmarked Ketchum, Idaho.
Hmmm
.

It contained an unmarked DVD.

Popping it into his computer, Baxter watched, fascinated, as the audition tape of Nathan Harte being flirtatiously teased, soulfully kissed, and seductively fluffed by that darned Kat played before his eyes.

So that's how the seduction began, thought Baxter. It certainly made the concept of Nat and his precious Kat as Jake's legal custodians less palatable.

“I'm only human…Just like the girl next door, right?” she breathily implored Nathan.

As the DVD played on, Baxter wondered how many other girls next door knew some of
those
moves. At least one, it seemed. From Ketchum, Idaho.

He'd be sure to describe the video, in detail, in tomorrow's column. And, of course, uplink it on his website.

The second package from Ketchum, which had been delivered to the palatial offices of Hannigan, Weiss, & Young on the Twenty-second floor, was opened very late that night, after Sam and Nina had gone, and Lavinia was left pulling out her hair over their lousy case. After reviewing the DVD, however, her whole take on their situation changed. Jubilantly she opened a jar of Tommaso's Premium Beluga Caviar in celebration of what might have to be her trump card in Nina's case—even if using it would mean breaking Nina's heart.

HOO-HAH!
Howard Cross was totally pumped.

From the vibe he was channeling as he gazed on the jam-packed courtroom, he could just feel it: Victory was imminent.

Extra
was there, as were
Entertainment Tonight, Celebrity Justice, Access Hollywood
, and
Inside Edition
. And Nancy, Greta, and Catherine had sent correspondents, as had all the tabloids, which were sporting such headlines as “Sex Opera-trix Has Hollywood's Number” and “Hollywood Dials O for Orgasm”…

Right on!

Most of Hollywood was represented, too, albeit surreptitiously. (That is, any player who suspected he was in O's little black book had sent a lowly assistant to take copious notes, because no one who was anyone dared to show his face in that courtroom unless he wanted his presence there to be “misconstrued” as proof positive he was listed.)

The rest of the seats were filled by the just plain curious who lived to be front row center at the biggest courtroom carnival since Wacko Jacko made pajama chic the attire of choice for that elite group known as the Infamous on Trial. Hell, the “Harte-to-Harte Custody Battle” (that nickname was courtesy of Page Six) was drawing even more gawkers than the Tobey Maguire Poker Game Slander Trial taking place across the hall, in which Ben had been accused of having one too many aces up his sleeve by Leo.

Now,
who's ya daddy?

And all because everyone wanted to know what muckety-mucks' names were in that bitch Nina Harte's little black book.

Big fucking deal. So some little silver-tongued coochie had been chatting up a few of L.A.'s finest. What was the crime in that? Hell, even Howard liked a little telephone foreplay every now and then. Considering the sweetness and light emanating from the tart Little Miss Harte, he couldn't even fathom the kind of phone sex she'd be able to dole out. Certainly not the kind of hardcore filth he liked to get off on. Just thinking about tearing her up on the stand (which would be made even easier, considering the parent evaluation he'd heard she had received, through his spies in family court) was giving him a hard-on.

Which reminded him: Later tonight he should sweet-talk his phone sex service into hooking him up again with that one girl that he'd liked so much…what had he called her, Cunt? Yeah, boy, now
she
was certainly a sassy one! She'd even come up with a nickname for him…what was it again?

Oh yeah, Potty Mouth.

He chuckled to himself. What he'd give to hear Cunt's
breathy litany of twatalicious tongue-twisters in his ear
right that very second
…

HOO-HAH
! Bring it
on!

 

So, that's the infamous barracuda, Howard Cross? He doesn't look so scary, thought Nina, glancing across at her soon-to-be ex-husband's attorney as she took her place beside Lavinia at the defendant's table.

The man—mid-fifties, balding, and portly, with glasses—was so nondescript that he could have easily passed for an H&R Block accountant, albeit he was wearing a much better suit than the typical number cruncher. Howard Cross caught her eye and gave her a friendly wink. She smiled back at him sweetly.

Maybe this wouldn't be so bad. Maybe shared custody could be worked out in a reasonable fashion after all. Nina breathed easier, leaning back into her seat.

Then Nathan walked in on the sinewy arms of that BITCH DIVA WHORE Katerina.

They looked picture perfect, both golden-haired with big dimpled smiles and shining blue eyes…

Yep, they were the perfect couple
.

Of course, it helped that they dressed the part: for Katerina, that meant a pencil-thin pale yellow silk skirt, with which she wore a high-collared yellow and white polka dot organza blouse. Conservative, yes, and certainly not what you'd expect to find on the back of the victor of
Maxim's
recent online poll, in which panting male participants were asked to name “the woman you'd want to lose your virginity to—that is, if you could do it all over again.” Score points there.

Nathan was in Armani: elegant enough to infer “star,” but casual enough not to intimidate those lowly minions around him, who were swathed in Van Heusen.

Hand-in-hand, the lovebirds, trailed by Riley and Fiona, made their way toward the front of the courtroom as casually as if they were taking a Sunday morning stroll on Santa Monica's Main Street. Waving to well-wishers, Katerina took it up a notch by blowing kisses to the VIP reporters in the gallery, many of whom she knew by name—Dominick, Ted, Jeannette, Michael, Richard, and most certainly Serenity: all celebrities in their own right, whose pens were poised to document, speculate, or pontificate from an already chosen point of view. The loving couple pointedly ignored Baxter Quinn, but he didn't seem to mind at all, giving Nina a raised eyebrow and a thumbs-up that put a shaky smile on her face.

Upon reaching the first row of spectator seats, Nathan situated Katerina right behind the chair that he was to occupy, then leaned in to give her a kiss. It was tentative, hopeful, and heartbreaking, and he lingered into it just long enough that any cell phone camera pointed in their direction would get the money shot.

Nina wondered how many times they'd rehearsed that move. She had to admit, though, that Katerina's choreography was spot on.

At Lavinia's insistence, Jake was waiting with Casey in an empty office next to the courtroom where the hearing was to take place, and Sam was sitting in the back of the courtroom somewhere, so that his presence wouldn't call any more attention than was necessary to Nina's own state of affairs. Already
every man who entered the courtroom was being scrutinized severely as a possible “client” of the infamous O.

That was exactly what Howard Cross had hoped would happen. In fact, unbeknownst to his opponents, Howard had planned to introduce into evidence O's phone records, which he had obtained through a subpoena of the phone company.

Hoo-hah!
Now,
that
should release a few bladders!

But first things first. When Judge Jessup queried both parties as to whether the temporary arrangement of joint custody was agreeable, Lavinia put forth that her client found it acceptable.

However, Howard, in a dark, ominous voice reminiscent of James Earl Jones channeling God, said his client
did not
. No sirree, not under any circumstances whatsoever.

Oh…
kay
. Moving on, Judge Jessup asked for a counter proposal from Howard.

“We are proposing
sole legal custody
for my client, Your Honor. It is the only situation that would be acceptable—”

Lavinia objected, loudly and haughtily. To Nina's chagrin, Nathan sat in stone-faced silence. He understood only too well that any move he made that was empathetic to Nina would incur Katerina's wrath. Realizing this, Nina teared up.

“—and, I might add, Your Honor, my client's uncompromising position is due to the immoral activities conducted by Mrs. Harte, which have put Jake Harte's welfare in jeopardy, and most certainly make her an unsuitable custodian for the child.”

A murmur hummed through the courthouse. Judge Jessup banged his gavel severely. It was obvious to him that Howard was bound and determined to turn these proceedings into a
celebrity courtroom Cirque de Soleil. Normally the judge would have curbed the pompous attorney's grandstanding, but hey, it was an election year, and he knew that the notoriety could work in his favor if he played his cards right. He just didn't want Howard trumping this nicely dealt hand with a courtroom free-for-all.

“Well, well, that was a very pretty speech, Mr. Cross. However, if you haven't noticed, I'm a judge, not a preacher. Therefore, my ruling will be predicated solely on any evidence presented here that may substantiate your client's claim that even partial custody by the defendant will do harm to the child. By the way, am I to assume that your client is asking for sole physical custody as well?”

Howard growled back: “Leaving that poor child in the hands of that woman would be an egregious oversight of this court, Your Honor, as we will prove today…”

Judge Jessup sighed. “Proceed, then.”

Lavinia patted Nina's hand gently and winked consolingly at her. Still, that didn't stop the bead of sweat that rolled slowly down Nina's back.

She closed her eyes and prayed for a miracle.

 

Wrong, wrong, wrong. That McLaughlin woman's report was
so damn wrong.

First off, she was not homeless, Nina wanted to shout, just temporarily relocated, thanks to the paparazzi climbing up her back patio and rummaging through her garbage for disparaging evidence.

And second, a couple of appletinis in the middle of the day with a sympathetic friend did not make her a drunk.

Okay, well,
maybe
a pathetic loser temporarily down on her luck, but
certainly
not a drunk.

And finally, yeah, okay, so she didn't have a job that very second, but how could she be blamed for that? For five long years she'd held down
two
gigs—and did such a great job with both that she was always getting commendations from her bosses…

Granted, one was a hormonal transsexual, and the other was a phone sex operator dispatcher…but that was beside the point.

Nina couldn't wait to get up on the stand and set that creep, Howard Cross, straight on all of it!

 

Howard Cross's first few questions were innocent enough. “Tell me, Ms. Harte, how long were you and Mr. Harte married?”

“Just over six years.”

“In fact, you met in high school, did you not?”

“Yes. I guess you could say that we were high school sweethearts.”

“How
touching
. That's quite a quaint term. In your line of work, you must know a lot of ‘quaint' terms.”

“What do you mean? I was at Tommaso's for over five of those years. Not too many fruits and vegetables are what you'd call quaint.”

A chuckle ran through the courtroom.

“Ah, you're a comedienne as well. I'm sure that such a sprightly sense of humor comes in handy, too…for a
phone sex operator
.”

Unconsciously, Nina flinched.

“And, how long did you hold down
that
job…as a phone sex operator, I mean?”

“Not quite five years.”

“I see.
Half a decade
. In other words, you were
a phone sex operator
even
before
your little boy Jake was born.”

“Yes. You see—”

“Just answer the questions, Ms. Harte. That's a lot of dirty talk, isn't it?”

This time Nina said nothing.

“How many days a week did you work your job as a sex phone operator?”

“Three. Sometimes maybe four,” she muttered.

“I'm sorry, I didn't hear you. I think you said
four
nights a week?”

“Yes, sometimes,” Nina growled louder.

“And you'd do this for how many hours a night?”

“Five. Maybe six.”

“Humph! That's a lot of talking…I'm surprised you weren't…. hoarse afterward.”

Several people in the courtroom let out with raucous chuckles. Nina peered at Judge Jessup in the hope that he would reel in the attorney, but the judge didn't seem to care that she was being skewered in public.

Well, he just lost
her
vote.

“How many—I don't know what do you call them, clients, customers,
johns
—did you talk to?”

“I called them only by whatever they asked of me,” Nina retorted.

“I can imagine that whatever those names were, they weren't their real names. After all, any man who would mas
turbate while some strange woman on the phone filled his ear with dirty, filthy, disgusting sex talk must be
very imaginative
in his own right, wouldn't you say?”

It was on the tip of her tongue to say that, yes, some were, when it hit her: The way he said “very imaginative” sounded familiar…

She knew that voice from somewhere…

“You didn't answer my question, Ms. Harte. How many customers would you talk to, on any given night?”

“I'm sorry, I—that varied. It could be as few as five, or as many as twenty—”

“Twenty men, four nights a week, for fifty-two weeks out of the year…That's, let's see, four thousand, one hundred and sixty dirty conversations a year…twenty thousand, eighty hundred filthy dialogues over the past five years…with horny, lascivious men to whom you—”

“Your Honor!” Lavinia stood up angrily. “I object to this line of questioning!”

“—open your mouth wide in order to—”

“Your Honor!
Puh-leez!
” Lavinia's thunderous cry seemed to wake Judge Jessup from his catatonic state. The judge frowned—more at Lavinia than at Howard.

Dammit, he thought, what is Howard doing, going for an Academy Award?

“Mr. Cross, you don't have to paint us a picture here.”

“Yes, Your Honor.” Howard smiled at Nina with his tiny feral teeth. “So, tell me, Ms. Harte, while you were on the phone, what was Nathan doing?”

“He was usually in the living room, listening out for our son, who was asleep. Of course, some nights Nathan was at re
hearsals, or at his acting class. Or working. He would bartend at parties.”

At that point, Howard turned back toward Nathan, in order to lift his hand in tribute to his client, as if to imply
What a great guy you are!

“And I assume your little boy heard
none
of these conversations.”

“No…not at all.” She turned red as she thought of the one time Jake had climbed out of bed for a cup of water and walked in on her as she was cooing naughtily into the phone. He had heeded her silent plea to say nothing, but that had not stopped him from climbing into her lap and scrutinizing her intently until she could jump off the call and put him back to bed. “If you let me stay up and watch Nick at Nite, I won't tell Daddy you said all those bad words,” Jake promised. She broke down and let him, just that once, and she stayed off the phone for the rest of the evening. As she watched him giggle through
Full House
, she wondered if what he'd heard had, subconsciously of course, made him hot to trot for little Michelle Tanner.