Shame on Me

CHAPTER 9

On Sunday morning, there’s a knock at my door and I contemplate ignoring it. I haven’t showered in two days. I’m facedown on my couch, where I’ve been since I got home Friday night. At least I changed out of my dress when I got home that night. Too bad I haven’t changed out of the Hello Kitty pajama bottoms and tank top I put on after I ripped off my dress and threw it in the trash. I feel gross. But I deserve to feel gross. I suck.

There’s another knock at the door, this one louder than the first. I don’t even lift my head from the cushion or move my body. They’ll go away eventually.

“PAIGE McCARTY, OPEN UP THIS DOOR RIGHT NOW OR I’M GOING TO KICK IT DOWN!” Kennedy yells.

Shit. Kennedy will never go away. And she really will kick my door down. I’ve seen her do it before.

With a sigh, I push myself up from the couch and shuffle my feet over to the door, opening it up while Kennedy continues to pound on it with her fist.

“Jesus Christ, you look like shit,” Kennedy tells me as she pushes her way into my condo.

“Well, aren’t you just a ray of sunshine this morning,” I deadpan as I close the door behind her and go right back to my previous position on the couch.

I know why she’s here. Aside from the fact that I’ve been ignoring her since Friday night, I’m positive that Matt called the office and filled her in on what a lying bitch I am. She’s probably here to fire me. I’m an ex-model and now an ex-almost-private investigator. I’m washed up. A has-been. They’re going to do an E! True Hollywood Story on me and it’s going to be depressing.

“Care to tell me why you haven’t answered my or Lorelei’s calls in the past two days?” Kennedy asks.

“Don’t feel bad about firing me. I already know I screwed up,” I mumble into the couch.

“Drph feem brph amerph frmy meh. Eh affreffy mow eh srphed upff” is what Kennedy hears.

Kennedy’s hand slides under my face and she lifts my head up off of the cushion. “You want to try that again? I don’t speak couch cushion.”

I sigh, pushing myself up, and move to the middle, flopping back down on my butt this time. I repeat the part about firing me.

Kennedy stares down at me. “What the hell are you talking about? Why would I fire you?”

Either she has no clue what I’m referring to, or she’s just messing with me. I wouldn’t put it past her. Maybe she wants me to die a slow, painful death of humiliation.

“You know, the whole Matt Russo thing,” I add, fishing for clues that she knows what I’ve done.

Kennedy shakes her head at me in annoyance. “So you haven’t been able to catch the bastard cheating yet. It’s not that big of a deal, Paige. Just give it time.”

Oh, my God. He didn’t call and tell her everything. Wait. Why didn’t he call and tell her everything?

“I know I’m not hip to fashion like you are, but you do know you’re wearing Hello Kitty pants, right?” she asks, staring down at my legs.

“Did you just say ‘hip to fashion’? What are you, ninety?”

“Oh, fuck off. Get your ass up and take a shower. Do you want to . . . go shoe shopping or something?” Kennedy asks, visibly wincing when she says the word “shopping.”

“Awww, it’s so sweet that you would do that just to make me feel better,” I tell her with a smile. “There’s a sale at Nordstrom today and I want to swing by a few salons so we can interview new stylists, since ours became a drug runner. We should also get you some new lingerie to make Griffin happy, and there’s this black dress I want your opinion on at Express.”

I watch the horror come over her face with each and every word I say, and I feel a little less sorry for myself as I tease her.

“Wipe that look off your face. Like I’d really put you through all that torture in one day,” I tell her.

“Thank Christ.”

Now that she sees I’m still alive and not planning on forcing her to shop with me all day, Kennedy turns and heads for the door. “Lorelei said you might have gotten a few photos the other night that you think aren’t good enough to nail Matt. Upload them onto my computer when you get to the office tomorrow and I’ll take a look.”

Well, shit. Now I really AM going to cry. Lorelei didn’t rat me out to Kennedy either. Now I just need to think of a way to “lose” those photos and find out who this Vinnie guy is before Kennedy realizes I have completely violated the contract she signed with Melanie. Knowing that gold-digging whore, she’ll come back and sue us too.

“So, I know you didn’t just ask me to lunch because you miss me. What’s the real reason I’m here?” Ted asks me.

Ted was recently promoted to detective with the South Bend Police Department after he assisted Kennedy in bringing down one of the biggest drug rings in Indiana a few weeks ago. He mostly works with the DEA, but I know he’s got the inside scoop on pretty much every criminal in this state.

“Of course I miss you. I feel like we haven’t hung out in ages,” I lie.

“I wasn’t born yesterday, Paige. What are you up to and does Kennedy know about it?” he asks.

I bristle at his comment that Kennedy needs to know everything I’m doing. Once again, people misjudge my ability to get anything done on my own.

“I’m working on my own case and no, Kennedy doesn’t know about it. Not yet. I want to get some more concrete information before I go to her.”

The lies are just flowing right off my tongue these days.

“Don’t you just handle office work and stuff?”

“Contrary to popular belief, I’m not an idiot. I do have a brain, and every once in a while, I like to use it,” I reply cockily.

“That’s not what I meant and you know it. I just want to make sure you’re being safe. My sister has a lot of experience taking down bad guys and even she was an idiot with how she handled things a few weeks ago.”

“I’m not taking down any bad guys, I promise. I just need information on one,” I admit.

“You swear you aren’t going to go off half-cocked like she did and go to some nut job’s house alone?” Ted asks.

I raise my right hand. “I swear.”

Ted sighs and shakes his head at me. “Fine. Give me his name.”

I lift up my knife and fork and begin cutting up my salad. “His name is Vinnie and he might be some sort of Mob boss.”

Ted doesn’t answer me and I stop my cutting to look up at him. He’s staring at me with his mouth open. “What?”

“Tell me you aren’t talking about Vinnie DeMarco.”

I shrug my shoulders. “I don’t know. Am I talking about Vinnie DeMarco? I only got his first name.”

“Paige, whatever you’re doing—stop. You do not want to go fishing around in Vinnie DeMarco’s life, trust me. He is bad news,” Ted warns me.

“How bad are we talking? The Godfather bad or The Sopranos bad?” I ask.

“Is there a fucking difference? They all do whatever the hell they want and don’t care about who they hurt in the process. We’ve been trying to nail this guy for years, but he’s slippery. He hires people to do everything for him so he never gets his hands dirty. And the people he hires are extremely devoted. They’ll do life in prison before they give him up. And if they even think about ratting him out, no one ever hears from them again.”

I take a minute to process this information. If this is the Vinnie that Melanie is seeing, it’s even worse than I thought. Matt isn’t going to be able to just snap a photo of them and threaten her with it. He’ll get himself killed. I need to be smart about this.

“Have you heard anything about this Vinnie guy having a girlfriend?” I ask next.

“He’s got a hundred different girlfriends all over the US. Who knows who his flavor of the week is nowadays,” Ted informs me, picking up his burger and taking a huge bite.

I should probably tell him that I might know who his latest conquest is. It might help them bring this guy down, but for right now, I’m keeping this information to myself. I need to make sure Melanie isn’t a threat to Matt before I do anything. If she’s called in and questioned, it could just piss her off and make her even more vindictive.

“I’m serious, Paige. You stay as far away from Vinnie DeMarco as possible. And if you hear anything, and I mean anything, you tell me right away,” Ted warns.

I smile brightly at him and dig into my salad. “Cross my heart.”

Shame on me for making a promise on a heart that barely functions anymore.