Love to Hate You

Chapter Twelve

Jennie

"Where the hell are we? Is this even the right address?" I scan my eyes up and down the street, searching for the supposedly obvious red door - sans signage. We are already fifteen minutes late for our meeting with our best lead yet in the Kim will saga.

"She did say three blocks from the subway." Celeste squints into the sun, then points down the road. "Over there! Hundred yards on the right."

"Wait, how can you even see that?" I quip. My boss has an eagle-eye, and I'm blind as a bat.

Celeste shrugs, completely unfettered by this morning's drama. Must be all that sex she's getting. Today I'm going to find out from whom.

"Quick, let's hustle," says Celeste. We hurry down the sidewalk, heels clicking and handbags swinging. "What on earth is going on with your hair, by the way?"

"Lisa," I exhale loudly and almost trip. "She put some glue-like additive in my shampoo or conditioner. Her mom was over Friday night, and I may have pushed it too far. Oscar-worthy, but still."

Celeste starts laughing. "Well, you know that slick back look suits you. I could've used that today with all the humidity. Since when did March get so hot?" I tug at my shirt that is sticking to my body. "If my hair falls out, I'm going to kill her."

Celeste chuckles breathlessly as we walk up to the landing. "This tit for tat is like a form of foreplay for you two. Can you just hurry up and have sex?"

"Celeste! Shush." I swing my handbag at her, laughing and pull down my close-fitting pencil skirt, which has ridden up my legs. "I'd rather stick my finger in a power socket."

Celeste is still sniggering as she pats down her wayward raven hair and straightens her blazer.

I run my tongue over my teeth to ward off rogue lipstick, but luckily, I don't need to fix my hair because it's not moving.

"Uh-huh. I believe you," Celeste smirks and holds her hand up to knock. "Ready?"

I make a face and nod.

"Good morning!" we beam in sweaty unison as the door swings open."

So, it turns out Herb Miller is about a hundred years old, and that's why he can't go to the office. Despite having a spritely, age-defying voice, he is bound to a wheel-chair and has round the clock care. He also knows fuck all about the will, which is absolutely gut-wrenching, and I'm ready to jump off a building when he says, "They were never legally married."

At which I drop a stack of files on the ground, and papers go everywhere.

I'm scrambling around on the carpet on my knees, so Celeste picks up the conversation. "Sorry, what did you say? What do you mean they are not married? Arthur and Alina?"

"Yes. I mean, you need to investigate their marriage. Poor guy couldn't even remember it. Thought he might have been roofied. Had a hangover for days. Said he woke up stark naked on the bed, and she told him they got married."

I visually cringe at the naked part, and then remember I need to be professional. "But it was public knowledge that they got married. Didn't they even leak it to the media outlets?" I say from the floor.

"She did. He was a bit pissed about it, but he was focused on the takeover of the tech integration company, Nexcom, and he was smitten with her, so he just laughed and said he was going to deal with it later. Old men do a lot of dumb things when they meet a beautiful woman. This was one of them. He wasn't expecting to have a heart attack and drop dead four weeks later."

"We have a copy of their marriage certificate Herb," I say, getting to my feet.

Herb shakes his head. "I tell you something is off. Arthur told me so. She's doctored some documentation or had inside help at the courthouse."