The Price of Fame - KJ1

by Lynn Ames

  “You don’t need to do that, I can call a cab.”

  “Don’t be ridiculous, I won’t hear of it. You might want to be careful, though, in case your friends are still hanging out waiting at the airport for a flight or something.”

  “I will, but I’m guessing they’re based here in Chicago or on the west coast somewhere and will either be watching your house or be gone by the time I get there.”

  “I hope you’re right. Just in case, do you want a disguise?”

  “Mmm. That could be fun.”

  “We’ll make it something easy to take off, so you can be yourself by the time you get on the plane if you want.”

  “Okay, and if they’re still lurking about I’ll just stay in character.”

  Within twenty minutes Kate had been transformed into a stooped old lady, warts and all, with the help of baggy clothes, a large bra stuffed with feathers, and some fake wrinkles that looked so real even she had to do a double take in the mirror. A wig of finely woven salt-and-pepper hair completed the look, with her real hair swept up underneath.

  “My, my, Katherine, you really should take better care of yourself.

  Why, you’re positively going to seed!”

  The ex-anchorwoman leaned over and kissed her friend on the cheek.

  “Thanks, Marie, you’re the best.”

  “Watch your voice there, Grandma Kate, and I know.” Her eyes twinkled. “Just you take care of yourself. And don’t give up on your lady, either, my friend. I can’t wait to meet her; it sounds like she’s a keeper, and so are you.”

  They hugged and Marie, still in costume, checked the backyard. “All clear. And don’t worry, Kate, if I see any sign of anyone sniffing around, I’ll just get back into costume and yell from the porch into the house for you to ‘come out and get some fresh air, young lady, you stay cooped up too much for your own good.’”

  Kate laughed at her friend’s old-lady voice. “That ought to work. I’ll be in touch sometime, Marie, I promise,” she said as she stooped over and made her way slowly across the backyard and over into the next neighborhood. Her suitcase had already been transferred to Nick’s car in the enclosed garage away from any potential prying eyes fifteen minutes earlier, before he headed back out to wait for her.

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  The remainder of the trip was uneventful, with no sightings of any reporters or photographers. Still, Kate chose to stay in costume until she reached Denver, where she disappeared into a ladies’ room and removed the makeup and costume, paid cash for a rental car, picked up a large container of coffee to fight off her exhaustion, and headed off in the direction of her first destination, the Great Sand Dunes in the Sangre de Cristo Mountains.

  By 9:00 p.m. Wednesday, after nearly seven hours of driving, she had arrived in tiny Mosca, Colorado, the town closest to the dunes, where she stopped for the night at a small bed and breakfast called the Inn at Zapata Ranch. She was grateful just to be able to get out and stretch her cramped legs.

  After checking in, she put her suitcase in the homespun room, noting that there was no telephone. She frowned and headed back out to the main lobby. “Excuse me,” she said to the elderly night clerk, “I’m looking for a telephone.”

  The white-haired gentleman smiled a smile that was missing two prominent teeth and pointed to a lounge chair in the corner of the lobby closest to the communal fireplace. “That’s the only phone available to the guests, miss. Just dial 9 to get an operator.”

  Great, thought Kate, looking around and seeing several people milling about the lobby. Just what I need; no privacy. She sighed heavily and sat down in the lounge chair, dialing Peter’s number from memory.

  She glanced at her watch; it was a little after 11:00 p.m. back home.

  “Yello.”

  “Hey, Technowiz.”

  “Hey Anc—er, woman. How’s things?”

  “Peachy. I’m so far beyond exhausted...hey, what comes after exhausted, anyway?”

  “Um, dead?”

  She chuckled. “Well, that’s helpful. Let’s just say I’m halfway there and leave it at that.”

  “How’d the trip out go?”

  “Like clockwork. Two photographers and a reporter at the airport in Albany, two different photographers and a different reporter in Chicago.

  My friend met me and put on a great show, which I think they bought, and no one followed me to Denver that I could tell. Certainly no one followed me here. I’m in the middle of nowhere and I didn’t see another set of headlights in either direction for the last 125 miles.”

  “Sounds good. Where exactly is the middle of nowhere?”

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  “Are you sure you want to know? If you don’t know, you can’t lie about it.” She was only half joking, and they both knew it.

  “Kate, someone ought to know where to find you in case of emergency, don’t you think?”

  “Is everything all right? Have you heard from Jay?”

  “Everything’s okay, and yes, I heard from Jay seven hours ago.”

  “How is she?”

  “Lonely and depressed, from the sound of it, but otherwise okay. She sounds about the same as you, come to think of it. Imagine that.”

  “Okay, I get your point, that’s enough. Where is she?”

  “She’s back in New York at the apartment. You could probably get her there now if you wanted.”

  “No, it’s too late; I’m hoping she’s sleeping. It sounds like she had a whirlwind trip; she wasn’t even there twenty-four hours. And besides,”

  she added softly, “it will only make things harder.”

  “She’s going into the office tomorrow morning to write the story on the injured sailors, then she flies off to Jacksonville, Florida tomorrow afternoon or evening for the memorial service for the dead, which takes place the following morning. The president is going to be there. She says she’s, and I quote, ‘coming home to write the story over the weekend and then take the train to the city Monday morning to turn it in.’ She’s flying directly from Jacksonville to Albany on Friday after the service. I told her I’d pick up dinner and bring it, and Fred, to the house Friday night.”

  “Thanks, Peter, you’re a prince, as always.”

  “Yeah, yeah, tell it to somebody who believes you. Oh, and she had two messages for you. She said to tell you she loves you and she misses you.”

  Kate’s heart clenched. “Tell her I said the same, okay?” she asked huskily.

  “Of course. Now are you going to tell me where in the world you are?”

  “Right now I’m sitting in a lounge chair in the lobby of a bed and breakfast fifteen minutes away from the Great Sand Dunes, one of the great wonders in this country. Unfortunately, this is the only phone they have for the guests to use, so it’s not the most private place in the world.

  I’ll probably spend the day tomorrow at the dunes and I may stop at the Zapata Falls, which are nearby. Then I’ll move on before nightfall. I’ll call you again tomorrow night from the road.”

  “Good. Oh, and Fred says good night and to tell you he misses you, too.”

  “Give him a kiss on the nose for me. I’ll talk to you tomorrow, bud.

  See ya.”

  “Bye, Kate. Be careful out there.”

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  She held the dead receiver in her hand a moment longer. God, she so wanted to talk to her lover. But she meant what she had said to Peter: it would only make things harder for both of them, and she knew Jay would want to know exactly where she was and when she was coming home.

  She could picture the conversation now.

  “Kate, where are you?”

  “It’s better if you don’t know, love.”

  “How can that be better? Don’t you trust me with the information?”

  “It isn’t a matter of trust, Jay, it’s just a matter of practicality.”

  “Oh, so now I’m on a need-to-know basis and I do
n’t need to know, is that it?”

  “No, sweetheart, of course not.”

  “Well, can you at least tell me when you’re coming home?”

  No, talking to Jay would only make things worse. With a heavy heart, she turned and went to her room, where she lay down and cried herself to sleep.

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  CHAPTER NINETEEN

  ay spent Wednesday night in the apartment, surrounded by Kate’s J scent and the lingering fragrance of her perfume on the pillows and sheets. While Jay had found that somewhat comforting, it had also made the longing for her more acute.

  She turned in the first sidebar before leaving for Jacksonville Thursday afternoon, calling Peter when she checked into her hotel. He told her only that Kate had been in touch late the night before, that she had been followed in two places by the media, and that she had managed to lose them after deceiving them, then gone on her way. When Jay asked him if he thought her lover would be home soon, he simply indicated that he had told Kate of her impending trip to Florida and her plans to be at the house in Albany over the weekend. He never answered the question one way or the other.

  Friday night, true to his word, Peter met Jay at the house with Fred and dinner in tow. She had already been there for a couple of hours and had ferreted out six dozen roses in various locations throughout the house: three dozen red and three dozen yellow, each with a card containing some expression of love and devotion that made her ache for her partner’s presence. She had also found the stash of comic books, with a note indicating that they “ought to keep you busy and out of trouble for a while,” and that Kate expected that, if Jay gave it a chance, she’d understand the draw of Aquaman, Captain America, and the Flash, too.

  Jay smiled wistfully, thinking to herself that she’d much rather be personally persuaded by a certain someone than discover an affinity for them on her own.

  The dinner with Peter was a nice diversion, although he seemed somewhat uncomfortable. She imagined that was because he could not tell her what she really wanted to know, which was when she might see her fiancée again or where she might be at that particular moment.

  “Where is she?”

  “I don’t really know; she hasn’t told me.”

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  “When do you think she’ll be back?”

  “I can’t say, Jay, because I really don’t know.”

  For yet another night, she cried herself to sleep, this time in her lover’s bed with Fred lying nearby. He seemed to sense her distress and followed her everywhere, staying close by her side, putting his head on her lap as she sobbed, and giving her his favorite stuffed toys to comfort her.

  On Saturday she sat down to write the story of the memorial service, but was too distracted. She called Peter to find that Kate had, indeed, called in late the night before after he had gotten home from dinner to say that she was fine and to tell Jay that she loved her and missed her. The younger woman felt the walls closing in on her after that and set out for Kaaterskill Falls with Fred and a little lunch. The two hiked the same route they had taken with Fred’s mistress and stopped to have lunch by the waterfall, where Jay cried, thinking back to the sweetness of that first real date they had shared. She closed her eyes and could feel the moment all over again as if Kate were there with her.

  “Come over here and give me your hand, Jay.”

  “Why?”

  “Has anybody ever told you you ask too many questions?” the taller woman mock-growled.

  Jay chuckled and moved closer, making a grand show of presenting her hand. At that, Kate grasped the hand, pulling the smaller woman to her and scooping her up in one smooth motion, supporting her under her knees and her shoulders.

  “Wha,” the writer sputtered, “what are you doing?” She latched on to Kate’s neck reflexively.

  Kate smiled down at her mischievously. “Well, I assumed that you didn’t want to get wet, and since our picnic spot is over there,” with her head, she gestured to a huge, flat rock in the center of the creek, “I thought this might be the best mode of transportation for you. Now if you’d prefer...” She made as if to set Jay down in the water.

  “No!” the petite blonde screamed.

  “I didn’t think so.” With little effort, Kate picked her way across the rocks that populated the creek and over to the designated dining area, carrying Jay in her arms. Since the water wasn’t particularly deep at that point and her hiking boots were waterproofed, unlike her companion’s sneakers, she wasn’t concerned about her feet getting wet.

  When she reached the giant boulder, she set her date down gently on top of it. “How’s that?”

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  “Mmm, great.” Jay knew Kate was asking about the lunch spot, but she was actually thinking more about being swept up into those strong arms.

  Jay sighed heavily and shook herself to clear the memory, since it only increased the agony of being apart from her lover.

  Saturday night Barbara stopped by to see how Jay was doing. She related that she had bumped into Kate on her way back to Albany Tuesday, the day all hell had broken loose, and that Kate had asked her to check in on her. The two women spent a little time just talking and getting to know one another a bit better, each finding that she liked the other immensely and that they shared some common interests and philosophies.

  After Barbara left, Jay dialed Peter to discover that she had just missed Kate, who again sent her love. “Did she say she was coming home?” she asked hopefully. She missed her so much it was making her sick to her stomach.

  “No, honey, she didn’t. She just said she’d call again tomorrow sometime. I’m sorry.”

  “That’s okay, Peter, I appreciate everything you’re doing.”

  “You’re welcome, Jay. You know I’ll do everything I can for both of you, right?”

  After he hung up the phone, Peter spent a moment longer thinking about his newest friend. He had been worried by her appearance the night before and had told Kate so on the phone. Jay had looked tired and drawn, with no sparkle in her eyes, she’d hardly touched her dinner, and she was clearly getting more depressed with each passing day. He would have felt better, he thought, if she at least had gotten angry. Somehow he had expected her to react differently. After all, she had plenty of spunk and seemed an equal match for Kate in terms of determination and will.

  Then again, he was smart enough to realize that there was probably a lot about her that he didn’t know.

  For Jay, Sunday was set aside for writing the memorial service sidebar, which she did, sitting down at her new word processor in her lover’s office for the first time. There was a note on it. “Jay, I know that the next great American novel will be penned on this machine some day in the not-too-distant future. I can’t wait to read it. I’m so proud of you.

  All my love, K.” Reading the loving words, Jay cried for what seemed like the tenth time that day.

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  She talked to Peter again that night just to check in and let him know she was going to the city via train in the morning to turn in the story. She had planned to leave her car at the train station, but Peter offered to come by and get her instead. By that time, Jay was so depressed she had stopped even asking him for any details of her fiancée’s whereabouts or actions. She only passed along the usual message: that she loved her and missed her and wished she were coming home. At her core, Jay was afraid that she had been right: nothing as wonderful as Kate could really be meant to happen to her.

  Kate, meanwhile, was in no better shape than Jay. On Thursday morning she got up early and took a run, then climbed to the top of one of the tallest sand dunes in North America, watching the sun rise over the spectacular snow-covered peaks of the Sangre de Cristo mountains. It was breathtaking. She had selected that spot, as she had the others she would visit, because it was among the most spiritual, most peaceful places in the country; she hoped
the vistas would be a balm to her tattered soul. She was all alone up there, not another soul in sight at that early hour, and she sobbed until she had no tears left.

  She cried for the happiness that she had been forced to sacrifice, and the love that was so far away; she cried for the pain the separation was causing Jay; she cried for a future she had just begun to consider but given the recent events knew she would never have. She sat like that for hours, knees pulled up tight to her chin, rocking back and forth in a vain effort to comfort herself. There was only one thing, one person, who could bring her solace, and she wasn’t selfish enough to put her own needs above those of her lover. No, she would have to work through the pain on her own.

  Eventually, Kate descended the dunes and detoured to the Zapata Falls on her way out of the area, but the water was running so high she wasn’t able to get too far and turned back to the car to continue on her journey. It took her nearly five hours on US 160 West, climbing over the treacherous Wolf Creek Pass, to make it to Mesa Verde. On the way through the pass, she had gotten out at a scenic overlook to peek over at a breathtaking valley below and to stretch her abused body. By the time she stopped for the night at the Far View Lodge in the Mesa Verde National Park, she was so tired she could barely see straight and wanted simply to be able to close her eyes and shut out the emotional pain that had been buffeting her continuously for two days. God, had it only been that long since she had last held Jay and made love to her?

  She called Peter to let him know she had reached her next destination.

  “Hey, Kate.”

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  “Hi, Technowiz. What’s up?”

  “Not much. Jay has landed safely in Jacksonville; I’ll be having dinner with her at the house tomorrow night after she gets back home.”

  Around the lump in her throat she choked out, “Give her a hug for me, will you? Good night, Peter.”

  Unable to get her mind to stop spinning, she was once again up and dressed in running clothes before dawn on Friday, her long legs eating up the winding curves of the pavement as she wended her way up and down the inclines, occasionally catching glimpses of Shiprock, New Mexico; Four Corners, where Utah, Colorado, Arizona and New Mexico intersect; and the various types of wildlife that populated the area.