Tara Sivec - Shame on Me

Um, okaaaay. Let’s try this again.

“Hi, I’m Paige,” I tell him brightly, sticking my hand out in front of him.

“Oh, hi. Matthew,” he tells me distractedly.

His warm hand engulfs mine and he shakes it once before pulling it away and going right back to looking down in his glass.

Fine. On to Plan B.

“It’s Paige McCarty, by the way,” I tell him sweetly, enunciating my last name. I was on the cover of Maxim last month. He’ll be asking for an autographed copy in three seconds.

“Did you say McCarty?” he asks, finally looking up and staring at my face.

Here we go . . .

“I sure did, handsome,” I tell him with a wink.

God, this is nauseating. I really am better than this. I need to talk to Kennedy about putting me on some different jobs. This is getting to be too degrading.

“My mother is Irish. Her maiden name was McCarty.”

I do nothing but sit here staring at him with my mouth open. He could be lying, considering he’s a cheater and that’s what they’re good at, but something tells me he seriously has no idea who I am. My spidey senses are not screaming “lying sack of shit” right at this moment. Obviously, they’re on the fritz. A woman doesn’t just fork over a couple of grand to have her husband investigated for cheating. She has suspicions and it’s my job to make sure they are validated, not question the authenticity of this guy’s morals.

Matt slides off of his stool and throws a twenty down on top of the bar.

“Well, it was nice meeting you, Paige McCarty. Be careful on your way home. This isn’t the best neighborhood for a woman to be alone in at night.”

And with that, Matt gives me a polite nod, turns, and walks out of the bar—without even attempting to flirt with me or ask me to go home with him.

Shame on me for thinking this job was going to be a piece of cake.

I’m thinking of wearing jeans and a nice tank top to dinner with Griffin tonight. What do you think?”

I look up at Kennedy as she paces back and forth in front of my desk. Kennedy is going on her first official date with Griffin tonight. They’ve been hot and heavy for a few weeks working on a bail-jumper case and due to some genius thinking on Griffin’s part, he finally got Kennedy to go on a real date with him. I’m pretty sure it’s going to be the highlight of her family’s week, since they’ve wanted the two of them together forever.

“You cannot dress like a hobo to go on a date with Griffin.” I shake my head at her and she rolls her eyes at me.

“Jeans and a tank are not hobo wear.”

“Kennedy, comfort should not be your first order of business when planning your attire for the evening. It should be picking an outfit that makes him want to skip the date just to rip your clothes off.”

Kennedy sits down at her desk in a huff and crosses her arms in front of her.

“This is dumb. We already skipped to that part. Several times. I don’t know why this date is such a big deal.”

“It’s a big deal because it’s romantic and sweet. Griffin wants to treat you well and prove to you that he’s not with you just for sex. Wear something red and show off your legs,” I tell her, powering up my laptop.

“Please tell me you’re not suggesting I wear a dress,” she grumbles.

“You’re wearing a dress. You’re also going to wear heels. Quit your bitching.”

While Kennedy moans and groans about stupid men and something about seeing her in a dress at prom if he wouldn’t have ditched her, I decide against asking her how to find more information on Matt Russo. She’s got enough on her plate tonight. Going right to Google, I type in Matt’s name and wait for the hits to load.

“I’m guessing I can’t just stop at Walmart on my way home and find this red dress you speak of, can I?” Kennedy asks as she grabs her keys from her desk and stands up.

“If you buy a dress from Walmart for this date, I will disown you.”

Turning away from my computer, I dig into my purse, pull out a business card, and hand it to her. “Go to Nordstrom and ask for Alicia. She used to be my personal shopper, you know, before Andy decided all my hard-earned money should be flushed down the toilet. She will find you something amazing.”

Kennedy looks at the card for a few seconds and then shoves it into the back pocket of her jeans as her dad, Buddy, walks through the front door of the office. “I feel like Julia Roberts in Pretty Woman . Except I’m not a hooker.”

“Can you please tell that to my friends at the VFW? They’re still asking me about the escort service ad Griffin ran in the newspaper last week. They’re concerned that you aren’t returning their calls because you used the Google on them and saw that they’re all old as dirt,” Buddy states. “I reassured them that you are a good person and would never discriminate based on age.”

During Kennedy and Griffin’s brief courtship, if that’s what you want to call it, Griffin decided to get back at Kennedy for a joke we played on him by placing an ad in the local paper that said Fool Me Once Investigations was an escort service. Buddy is having a hard time coming to terms with the fact that it’s not true.

“Dad, still not a hooker. How about you just tell them that?”

Buddy looks at her like she’s insane. “I’m the most popular guy at the VFW right now, Kennedy. People yell my name when I walk in and everyone buys me drinks. I’m not about to kill my popularity. This is the only thing I have to live for. Don’t deny me this.”

Kennedy gives up the argument for today, kisses Buddy on the cheek, and heads out of the office, hopefully to buy a dress.

“Okay, now that she’s gone, here’s the plan for tonight. The whole family is going to stop by so we can see Kennedy and Griffin off on their date,” Buddy whispers to me, looking over his shoulder to make sure Kennedy didn’t sneak back in.

“You know she’s going to kill you, right? She doesn’t want to make a big deal out of this.”

Buddy shrugs and backs toward the door. “My daughter is finally dating Griffin. I never thought I’d see the day those two would finally get their heads out of their asses. I want a front-row seat so I can make sure it actually happens and she doesn’t chicken out.”

I laugh at Buddy and he gives me a small wave over his shoulder before walking out the door.

Once he’s gone, I get back to my Google search. The file we have on Matt isn’t very detailed, since all we really need to know about Matt for this case is where he’ll be at certain times of the day so we can follow him. He’s not a criminal—that we know of—so Lorelei didn’t need to do an extensive court-record search on him. And he didn’t break the law, so Kennedy doesn’t need to hunt him down and kick his ass.

I know my job is to just sit and look pretty, but I’m tired of that nonsense. I’m smart and resourceful; maybe if I go above and beyond my typical duties, Kennedy will trust me to handle some real cases. Cases where I need to learn to shoot a gun and put my newly learned self-defense moves to work.

Sure, looking deeper into Matt Russo’s background isn’t going to have me running through the streets chasing down bad guys, but at least it will show that I’m taking initiative.

“Well, hello, twenty-five Matt Russo Facebook pages. Let’s see, only one is from South Bend, so let’s go with that,” I say aloud, clicking on his name.

“Wonderful. Profile is set to private. What the hell, Matt? No one sets their profile to private unless they have something to hide. Do you have something to hide, Mr. Russo?”