Chapter 598: Katrina XXIII--Forced Guilt

Chapter 598: Katrina XXIII—Forced Guilt

 

 

 

 

            “Hello!”

            Katrina turned completely around, almost startled at the greeting. Seeing Coco Lacroix’s smile, threw her off completely, and to her own irritation, she reddened. “Oh hi there.” Unsuccessfully, Katrina tried to smile, and she suddenly felt at a loss as to whether or not she should proffer her hand, or curtsey…although why she should even think of something that stupid was beyond her! “Hi.”

            Coco seemed content to turn her slim body to one side, avoiding Katrina’s plastic, hand held grocery basket, and lean in to hug her. Katrina’s eyes widened at the older woman’s warm, tight grip, and it gave her the chills to feel her soft, moist lips against her cheek. Gently, Katrina pressed one of her palms against Coco’s bony shoulder, nudging her back. “How are you tonight, Katrina?”

            Still startled, still weak, Katrina blinked her eyes rapidly, and shrugged one shoulder. “Shopping, I’m out of fruit.”

            “Ah, they have the best fruit here!” Coco replied, grabbing a swollen orange in her slim, fat-veined hand and holding it to the tip of her delicate nose. “I wouldn’t know where else to look for good fruit.”

            “Um…yeah.”

            What is she up to? Katrina narrowed her eyes as Coco began to root through the oranges, energetic as a sparrow and chirping about the best tips for picking good fruit. Slowly, her composure returned, and along with it, her temper. In reality, she’d never exchanged more than few words with Mrs. Lacroix, and whether or not Coco knew about her and Pierre, didn’t seem to amount to much. “Wow, I thought you would have gone to Los Angeles with Pierre,” Katrina said curtly. Why dick around?

            The color left Coco’s cheeks instantly, and she stood straight, as if someone had stabbed a gun into her back. Slowly, she set the orange down, but she didn’t turn to Katrina. “Well… I felt I needed to stay behind…I have things I’d like to get done here.” Ah, sharp woman, Coco recovered quickly and she looked at Katrina with a smile full of radiant warmth. “Anyway, it is easier to get things done without having a man around all of the time, to interfere. It is so much simpler without a man, yes?”

            Katrina raised her eyebrows, and nodded.

            “You stayed behind as well, I notice.” No sweetness in her tone here.

            Katrina wanted to laugh, but she didn’t. “Eh, why would I need to go?”

            Come on, say it bitch, accuse me, bitch, get it off your chest.

            Coco pursed her lips and widened her eyes, the way an innocent starlet would. “Ah, I guess I assume because you are so popular with the veteran players, eh, I think they would have wanted you over there to ensure a better game?”

            “Gregorio has gone to do that, actually. Even I need a vacation sometimes.” Damn her for being so smooth.

            “Oh.”

            In the ensuing silence, Katrina turned back selecting fruit as Coco watched her. “These apples are pretty good. Really crisp, not too sweet, I bet they’d make some nice pies. They’re expensive.” She put three into a bag. “But they’re worth it.”

            “Are they?” Coco picked one up and rubbed her thumb over the flesh. “They’re very pretty, almost pink. I don’t think I’ve seen them before. What kind are these?”

            “Crestfield Pinks, they’re new, or something. Probably a hybrid, but when we’re talking about fruit, everything is nowadays.”

            “I don’t know,” Coco said softly, “I do not like this trend to genetically altering food, the things we eat. I am surprised this store sells them.”

            Katrina looked at Coco who inspected the fruit in her hand. “It’s just an apple, dear, it can’t hurt you.”

            Coco put it down, a small frown on her lips. “We put it inside our bodies. It becomes a part of us. How do we know that this thing, this apple, it will not find a way to distort us someday?”

            “What, like Franken-apple?”

            Coco laughed.

            Katrina grinned.

            “Yes! Like a monster. We must be careful of these little things we do to survive, just living day to day, it is dangerous.”

            Burning again overtook Katrina’s cheeks, and she hated herself for it. She smelled a polite little trap. “I think I’m doing quite fine with my damn apples, thank you.”

            “They build up, these little things.” Coco’s voice sounded far too solemn now, in the way a tortured saint would speak. It reminded Katrina far too keenly of her mother’s darkest moods. Nothing irked her so much as polite suffering.

            “Do they?”

            “Yes, they do. We tell ourselves, we can justify these little things; we need to eat, eh? We need to survive; men don’t understand what we have to do, and what we have to compromise.”

            “No, they don’t.”

            “They don’t appreciate it either.” Coco’s voice dropped here, turned into a powerful bass that startled Katrina interest.

            “No, they don’t.”

            Now, the older woman had her attention, and when she spoke, she didn’t mince words. “Living your life this far on little things, ignoring the bigger things, the ripples that you create, it will distort you. It is good to be arrogant when you are young, it is a wonderful tool. But do not, for one instant, assume that as a young thing you can manipulate and successfully control someone older and powerful.”

            Katrina narrowed her eyes, dropped anything kittenish and soft to erase this woman’s image of her as a naďve, self centered twit. “Are you threatening me?”

            “I have no power,” Coco said with a mirthless laugh. “No, I cannot threaten anyone. I am not one of the big things that can hurt little girls. No, no. Do not get this impression. But do me one favor?”

            Katrina’s teeth caught the bottom of her lip, she felt a little dizzy, off guard and unsure. “What?”

            “Make a pie for me out of those apples; tell me how it turns out. I am too busy nowadays to make pies. Eh?”

            With that, Coco turned and walked away.        

            Within minutes, Katrina found a corner of the store and she dialed her cell phone, her hands trembling, and her pulse hammering. Bob Hartley answered straight off. “Damn you, Bob, stop interfering with my life!”

            “What is this, Katrina?”

            Hartley spoke calmly, in French, probably satisfied with himself.

            “Oh, don’t play dumb either,” Katrina rolled her eyes, switching to French. “Listen, I know how sweet and pretty Coco is, okay, and I know how bad you want her confidence, and her looking at you as some sort of hero or something okay? But what gives you the right to go talking to her about my affairs with Pierre? Is it your right to spread this news? Huh? What good are you accomplishing by confirming something that could easily have been wiped away without her…”

            “She knows already!” Hartley exclaimed. “What are you talking about?”

            “She suspected something, Bob, which is not the same as knowing. For a woman, it could be better to suspect and then have nothing of it than actually knowing. For a woman like Coco, this is the best course of action.”

            “I didn’t tell her anything, Katrina,” Hartley sighed. “And if you’re feeling guilty about it then I suggest you…”

            “I feel inconvenienced, Bob,” Katrina snarled, “not guilty, there’s a difference.”

            “Your differences do not concern me, Katrina.”

            “Oh, but she does?”

            Hartley hung up here, click and dial tone.

            Katrina’s jaw jutted out and she hung up the phone. I get your game, Bob. She allowed herself a smile, just to calm down.

            “Wow!”

            She looked at a young man who stood near her, a huge smile on his face. “What?”

            His smile turned goofy. “You can speak some sexy French!”

            “Fuck off,” Katrina snapped and as she walked past him, she tossed the bag of apples into his basket.