Page 45 of Sweet as Sin (Bad Habit 1)
“What? Yes! I mean, no, they don’t have guns or anything, but they’re all over my yard! They’re asking questions, and shooting video!” The operator was quiet. I tried to make myself sound reasonable. “They’re trespassing, right? This is private property!”
“Do you live in a gated community, ma’am?”
“No.” Did that matter?
“Is your home accessible from a public street, or behind gates or a private driveway?”
I could already tell this wasn’t going well. I grudgingly admitted my house was indeed on a public street.
“Is anyone attempting to enter the residence? Have you been verbally or physically threatened with harm? Are there any minor children at the residence?”
“No to all three. But they can’t just walk all over my property, can they? They’re probably thrashing my lawn!”
I was dismayed to hear the operator’s voice grow bored. “I’ll send a unit to check on you, ma’am. Please stay indoors, and don’t engage with anyone until an officer arrives. If you feel in imminent physical danger or there is any other emergency, please call us back—”
“Wait—you’re not seriously telling me this is OK? They can’t stalk me like this, right? This is my home!”
“I understand you’re upset, ma’am. We’ll send an officer as soon as we can.”
She didn’t sound as if she understood. She sounded as if she thought I was overreacting, and wasting her time, and taxpayer resources. Fury exploded inside me like a bomb.
“You know what? I know these calls are recorded. So if I get killed by one of those psychos outside my front door, I want the whole world to know it was because you couldn’t be bothered to do your job! How are you going to feel when they play this back on the news after I’m dead? I bet if I was Angelina Jolie you wouldn’t take such reckless chances with my life!”
Through the receiver came the faintest, weary sigh. “Ma’am, please calm down. If you like, I can stay on the phone with you until the officer arrives.”
Through the closed kitchen curtains I saw shadowy figures moving around the side of the house. Dear God, were they looking for some way in?
“No, I do not like! I need help! Now!”
Beside me, Chloe looked worried that I was shouting at the police, the people who were supposed to come and help us. Only I had no idea if and when they actually would.
“Give me that!”
Grace snatched the phone from my hand. She launched a scathing verbal smackdown on the 911 operator. Her rant included some excellent points about common decency, constitutional rights to privacy, and the sanctity of a person’s home. At the end of it, the operator was still unmoved. Finally Grace threatened to write a strongly worded letter to the mayor of LA—a client of hers—and hung up.
Almost immediately, my phone rang again. Without looking at the number, hoping against hope the police were calling to say a squadron was on its way, I answered.
“What’s wrong?” Nico’s voice was instantly tense. I supposed he could tell by the frantic way I’d answered the phone that all was not well in the land of Kat.
“Oh, thank God, Nico, it’s you!” I was ridiculously relieved to hear his voice. Not only because it was him, but also because it had just occurred to me that if the paparazzi had my address, they also might have my phone number. Was I going to have to stop answering my phone?
“Kat! What is it?”
“The fucking paparazzi are camped on my doorstep! And tromping around my backyard! And asking questions about me and you—”
“Give me thirty. Don’t answer the door, don’t talk to them, don’t go near the windows. Just hang tight. I’ll be there in half an hour, and I’ll take care of it. You hear me?”
He rattled off these instructions with the bluntness of a drill sergeant, fully expecting to be obeyed. I was even more relieved; he seemed to have some idea of how to handle this. Naturally he would, having probably handled this exact scenario many times before. He was much more reliable than that awful 911 operator who didn’t care if I lived or died. I should have told her the house was on fire.
“Yes.”
“Good. And pack a bag, enough stuff for at least two days.”
He hung up. I stared at the phone, my head pounding, wondering if we’d yet had a conversation where I’d been the one to end the call. And pack a bag? WTF?
“What did he say?” Grace stood with her arms crossed over her chest, her face red with anger.
“He said he’ll be here in thirty minutes.”
