Page 51 of The Kat Bunglar

Laila looked on bemused. “Yes, I remember Afareen. I hope ‘chef’s kiss’ is a good thing?”

Esme nodded enthusiastically, her nose, eyebrow, and lip rings jiggling in unison.

“When I come back, I’d be happy to talk through that case with you or any other cases I’ve worked on—”

“I would love that,” Esme squealed and then toned down her voice as people looked over. “I just think you’re immaculate. I’ve seen you on the news from time to time. The hair, the suit, the jewelry—it’s such an old-money look, and it is to die for.”

Laila smiled and nodded, not truly understanding all of the words coming out of Esme’s mouth. “I really appreciate you reviewing these two depositions for me. I’ve marked my notes. I just need you to double check the timestamps and dates, please. There’s also another case: the Santos case. I couldn’t find the file—”

“Oh yeah, Carol sent me the info last week to verify the family background and documentation.” Esme quickly pulled up the information on her laptop.

Laila breathed a sigh of relief. “Oh good. I’m afraid I need to transfer that file to another colleague of mine. I need to chat about it with Alex—”

“Yeah, so your client mentioned that his two sons are living with their grandmother, but when I called to verify the information, it turns out they’re actually living with a woman named Maria Angelica, who is in her mid-thirties. So definitely not grandma.” Esme looked up from reading her notes.

Maria? Maria? Laila sat down hard on a nearby barstool and pulled out her small notebook—the one where she had jotted down the few notes from her conversation with Gabriel. There it was in black and white: Maria Santos—first wife, love of his life. Her voice sounded shakier than she intended. “Are you sure the name is Maria? Did she have breast cancer? Did she recover?”

Esme gave her a strange look. “Mmm. We don’t have access to her medical history. But Maria was the one who ended up sending over the sons’ birth certificates, school records, and passport info. She’s been super helpful, so the documentation on the two boys is up to date and ready to be filed.”

Feeling slightly sick, Laila flashed her a weak smile. “Amazing. I’ll get on that right away.” Her hands were jittery as she went to pick up the espresso cup. It was just the caffeine, she told herself. It had nothing to do with the awful pit in her stomach that insisted that Gabriel had been married this entire time.

July 18

Los Angeles

Kat Kar

Kat tossed and turned all night. Christian had betrayed her. She didn’t trust Joseph. She had no social media presence. She had essentially been rendered invisible. Who was she withoutKat_Kares?

For the past three years, every interaction with the world had been through the lens of how to share it with her followers. A beautiful sunset meant setting up a yoga mat and doing a downward dog pose while the sky exploded in a golden-hued rainbow behind her. A tasty meal wouldn’t be complete without first snapping a picture and then tagging the restaurant for a possible free dessert. Her brain had been hardwired to maximize every image and activity into consumable content for the masses.

And now there was nothing. A black void where she once resided. She was a nobody. And if she was being honest with herself, she had always been a nobody, but the clothes, the lip gloss, and the likes made her feel like a somebody for a little bit.

As the light of dawn slowly crept into the apartment, enhancing all the shadowy corners, Kat’s phone rang. She glanced at it, surprised; she couldn’t remember the last time she had actually used her phone to talk to someone.

“Assalum Alaikum, can you hear me? Khatira? Khatira?” her mother shouted at her.

“Walaikam Salam, Ammu,” Kat winced at the volume.

“You know I woke up to pray Fajr, and all of a sudden my heart started hurting and I pictured your face. Are you okay, Khatira?”

The concern in her mother’s voice caught her off guard. “I’m okay, Ammu, don’t worry,” Kat managed to say.

“You didn’t even call to say that you landed. What is this? I know you live far away. But you should still have some manners towards your parents from time to time, no?” Her mother then launched into scolding her, but this time underneath the scolding, Kat could hear the concern, which caused an unintended sob to break free.

“Khatira? Khatira? Are you crying? What happened?” Her mother’s voice immediately turned to a hushed tone.

“Ammu, I did something bad, and now I don’t know what to do,” Kat sobbed into the phone, longing for her mother to reassure her and tell her that everything would be all right.

“You killed someone,” her mother said matter-of-factly. “I watch Dateline; you shouldn’t say you killed someone over the phone, they’ll tap it somehow.”

Kat’s tears immediately dried up. “No! I didn’t kill anyone. How could you even think that?”

“Obviously an accident. Maybe you ran him over with your car or pushed him over a cliff. Los Angeles is very hilly, nah? People die every day, some with the help of others.”

“Ammu, I’m not a murderer. Okay? I just did something I shouldn’t have, and now I’m confused about what to do next.” Kat turned over and slammed her face into her pillow, deeply regretting picking up the phone.

“Okay, if no one is dead, then everything is fixable, nah? I was born in Bangladesh during the 1970s. If I can survive that, then you can survive anything. Arreeyyy, you girls are so weak these days—”

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