Total pages in book: 72
Estimated words: 67831 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 339(@200wpm)___ 271(@250wpm)___ 226(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 67831 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 339(@200wpm)___ 271(@250wpm)___ 226(@300wpm)
“Not always,” I cut in. “The only thing I lie about is how much women are going to love my cat.”
The Rockette looks confused. “Why would you lie about that? Women love cats.” She shrugs. “I mean, I love cats. Cats are adorable.”
“Not my cat,” I say. “His owner left him with me four years ago, and he’s never gotten over it. He still tries to kill me at least once a day, and the last woman I brought home ended up with cat feces in her hair.”
“In her hair?” The Rockette wraps a hand around her throat in horror.
I nod. “Yes. The cat crept in quietly while we were sleeping and left a present for us on her pillow. By the time we woke up it was everywhere, and Megan didn’t think I was such a great catch, after all. Greg laughed about it for days.”
“Greg?” Caroline’s eyes widen. “The cat’s name is Greg?”
“It is.”
“That was my cousin’s cat’s name,” she says. “The one who died before she left the city.”
Ah-ha.
Perhaps proving Vivian is a liar will be easier than I thought…
“Is that what she said?” I ask, a pleasant warmth flushing my skin. I don’t usually take pleasure in revenge, but Vivian is a special case. Just like cheaters, pet-abandoning people who lie about dead cats deserve every bit of payback coming their way. “No, Greg is still very much alive. And exactly where Vivian left him when she bailed on me without bothering to ask if I wanted to adopt my ex-girlfriend’s cat.”
“But she said he died,” Caroline repeats, blinking faster, obviously still not getting the “Vivian is a sociopath” memo. “In the city. That he was run over by a bike messenger, and you didn’t care at all. She said you insisted on going to some fundraiser thing at a comedy club the same night, even though she’d been crying all day and was so upset she could barely stand up. She showed us pictures!”
A scowl claws into my forehead. “Of a dead cat?”
“Yes,” Caroline says, before adding with a wrinkle of her nose, “I mean, no. Not of the cat. But there was a big shoebox she’d decorated to use as a casket and a gravesite with a tiny marker on it. She said she’d buried him in secret in Central Park and that someday, when we came down for a shopping trip, she’d show me his grave and we’d leave flowers.”
“Huh,” I say.
Caroline brows lift. “That’s all you have to say? Huh?”
I shake my head. “No, I just…” I laugh. “That’s a new level of bizarre. Even for Vivian. On some level, she must have felt guilty about leaving him, I guess.” I frown as I ponder aloud, “Do you think she believes her own lies? Maybe not at first, but eventually? Given enough time and distance and fake funerals?”
“I can’t believe this,” Caroline says.
“Me, either. It’s wild,” the Rockette says, making us both flinch.
“Sorry, I forgot you were here,” Caroline says, clearing her throat. “Is there…something you need?”
The Rockette laughs. “Oh, no, sorry. I was just sucked into the drama. If this story is true, your cousin is probably a sociopath. They’re way more common than people think. I heard like seven or eight percent of the population or something!”
“Thank you,” I say, motioning toward the woman. “See, she gets it.”
The Rockette nods. “Yeah, my grandmother was the same way. Never met a story she wouldn’t exaggerate just for the fun of it.” She rolls her eyes. “Or to get sympathy or extra cigarettes from the other inmates. She was in prison for fraud by the time I was a teenager, but I still went to visit her. When Grammy wasn’t feeding you a load of bullshit, she was a super fun lady.” She frowns, her gaze growing distant as she adds, “Maybe that’s why I keep falling for liars. I should probably take a look at that.” She lifts a hand, smiling vaguely as she wanders away. “See you two around. Good luck with the cat and maybe try dating if that feels right. That kiss was super-hot.”
“Thanks,” Caroline says, her cheeks flushing. She keeps her gaze fixed on a spot over my shoulder as she mumbles, “It was pretty hot.”
“It was incredible,” I say.
Her forehead furrows. “But I can’t date my cousin’s ex.”
“Of course not,” I agree, pushing aside the disappointment inspired by her words. Right now, I have to focus on ensuring the survival of my show. We’re supposed to be at the rink to start filming in less than two hours. “But could you work for him? If he proved to you that Vivian isn’t a person who deserves your loyalty?”
She nibbles on her bottom lip. “I don’t know. I still can’t believe this is real. Vivian’s never lied to me.”