Smokey had brought the newspaper section with us, and the four of us spent the bulk of the drive laughing and talking about the various photos (including our own). In short, it was a bit of a continuation of our time at the diner.
Getting caught up in the conversation, I didn’t pay close attention to where we were going. Eventually, however, I noticed that the road we were on started to slope up.
“So where exactly are we going?” I asked Cat.
“The Hills,” she responded. “It’s where my mom and I live.”
Eyebrows raised in surprise, I subtly glanced back at Smokey and noted that his expression mirrored mine. “The Hills” was a colloquial term for an area of the city where many of the rich and famous resided. Bearing in mind the kind of car Cat drove, the fact that she lived in an exclusive zip code really shouldn’t have been a news flash. Plainly speaking, she was so down-to-earth that I simply had trouble envisioning her as a blue blood. (Of course, now that I’d gotten to know her, the same could be said of Vestibule.)
A short time later, after driving up a few winding roads, we came to a stop in front of the gated entrance to an expansive residence. I didn’t see Cat do anything, but without warning the gate began to swing open. A minute later, we were pulling into a circular driveway in front of a mansion that I guessed was about seven thousand square feet in size.
“Come on,” said Cat as she put the car in park and got out.
The rest of us exited as instructed (with me carrying the duffel bag), then followed as she stepped lithely up a set of stone stairs to a magnificent pair of double doors; she tried the handle of one and then slipped inside as the door swung open.
Turning towards us, Cat gestured for us to enter, saying, “Welcome to my humble abode.”
As we went inside, we found ourselves in a two-story foyer that opened up into a majestic great room which contained, among other things, a two-sided fireplace, posh furnishings, and a regal winding staircase that led up to the second floor.
“Follow me,” Cat said as she began walking towards what appeared to be the rear of the house. “Brunch should be set up out back by the pool.”
We quickly fell into step behind her, striding down a hallway that was obviously floored with expensive hardwood. As we sauntered through the house, Cat played the role of tour guide.
“That’s the library over there,” she said, pointing to a doorless room full of built-in shelves crammed with hardback books. “This is the music room, where I’m forced at gunpoint to practice piano for thirty minutes a day. And over here…”
Although I didn’t do it intentionally, I found myself tuning Cat out. In essence, walking through her house reminded me of the mansion of Alpha Prime – the world’s greatest superhero (and my father). Of course, my father’s place was absolutely palatial, and dwarfed almost any house that didn’t have a footprint that could be measured in acres.
Reflecting on my father’s house, of course, brought my father himself to mind, and I suddenly became cognizant of the fact that I hadn’t spoken to him lately. However, ours was a complicated relationship – in fact, until fairly recently, there had been no relationship to speak of – but it was something we both continued to work on. Recalling that my mother had made me promise to keep in regular contact with Alpha Prime before she left, I made a mental note to call him later.
“And here we are,” Cat announced, bringing me back to myself.
We had just come through a sliding glass door and were now on a covered patio that contained an eye-catching outdoor living room, as well as an elongated dining table currently covered with what I was assumed was brunch: Belgian waffles, breakfast sausages, croissants, an assortment of cheeses, strawberries, and more.
Just off the patio was a good-sized pool with an adjoining, oversized hot tub. Lining one side of the pool were a number of outdoor chaise lounge chairs, as well as a canopied daybed; on the far side of the pool was a small structure that I took to be a pool house.
“Well, it looks like the food’s here,” Cat noted, waving a hand towards the dining table. “Feel free to help yourselves.”
“Thanks,” said Smokey. “I think I…”
He trailed off as the sound of water splashing drew everyone’s attention. It appeared to be coming from the pool, and I – along with everyone else – automatically turned in that direction.
There was a woman in the pool. Apparently she’d been there since we’d stepped onto the patio, quietly swimming beneath the surface and had only just come up for air. At present, she was turned to the side so that only her profile was visible, but it was enough for me to see that she was blonde, well-tanned, and had flawless skin.
Unexpectedly, the woman snapped her head back, flipping her long blonde hair behind her and at the same time sending water cascading out in an arc. Then, eyes closed, she casually ran a hand from her hairline to the back of her head, essentially squeezing any excess water from her hair. She brought her hand to rest on the back of her neck and gently massaged the area for a few seconds, letting her head loll to the side in a way that was almost self-indulgent. Then, opening her eyes, she seemed to notice us for the first time. She turned in our direction, and that’s when I got my first real look at her, and found
