Page 8 of The Kat Bunglar

?Chapter 3

Cupcakes, Confessions & Close Calls

One Week Earlier

Chicago

June 25th

Laila Malik

“In for a penny, infor a pound,” Laila reflected wryly as she balanced a tray of cupcakes and a bottle of wine gingerly. Surely, he would want to celebrate. After all, he had just been tenured, and toasting that accomplishment was simply the neighborly thing to do. Or would he think it was too much?

Her husband’s trip to New York had been extended until tomorrow, and her casework was light this week. That meant she had a few minutes to bake chocolate cupcakes, top them with cream cheese frosting, and sprinkle some edible glitter on top. She wasn’t doing anything wrong. So... why did it feel not right, either?

She thought she heard the faint sound of laughter and music coming down the hallway. Glancing down at her outfit—a floral summer dress paired with a jean jacket—she grimaced. She looked like someone’s grandmother.

Making her way down the hall, she saw the door open as a group of elderly men with ruddy faces staggered out. “We need vino and cheese,” they yelled behind them. “Be right back, Gabe-y boy!”

Oh God, there was already a celebration in full swing. “Turn around. Turn around now,” she silently commanded her feet. But they kept moving toward the door, drawn by the sunlight streaming into the hallway. The mingling scents of cigar smoke and gardenias felt oddly welcoming.

She paused, uncertain, hovering in the doorway. And that’s when he saw her. “Penthouse?” he asked, a huge smile spreading across his face.

Oh my... Her heart quickened, and her palms became damp. What had this man done to her?

Present Day

July 8th

LAX Airport

Kat Kar

Kat was sweating, her neck itching from the layers of clothing she’d piled on after her check-in bag tipped the scale as overweight. Rather than letting TSA toss her ASOS cape dress, Alo Yoga sweatpants, and fanny pack, she decided to wear it all. Right there, in front of everyone. Her fanny pack was crammed with toiletries.

“I can’t get a hold of him. That toad-licking, no-good ass of a goat—” Christian bit her lip as they examined their boarding passes.

“Gate 23—oh, it’s right down there.” Kat’s eyes lit up as she spotted a pop-up Sephora near the Duty-Free shop. “And we have plenty of time to browse through Sephora before our flight. Gurl, yassssss!”

“I’ve called Joseph 20 times to get my name off his website. He’s ignored the calls, the texts, the DMs. It’s like the man is deliberately trying to vex me...”

Kat had stopped listening as she entered the sacred space that was Sephora. She closed her eyes, took a deep breath, and felt her muscles begin to relax. This was home—a world filled with perfectly labeled jars and accessories, all organized by color, fragrance, and function.

Waddling aimlessly, her leggings creeping up under her sweatpants, she forgot her discomfort for a brief moment. She was so lost in her joy that she couldn’t quite register what she was looking at—until her heart stopped. A cardboard cutout of @JustJanvi stared back at her. It was a life-size poster: Janvi’s, arm around Huda Kattan as they both laughed ecstatically over the color of their blush pots. Visceral, liquid hate pooled in Kat’s veins.

Christian, still muttering about Joseph, paused mid-rant. “What are you—”

“Shhh!” Kat whispered harshly, craning her neck like a kid caught with their hand in the cookie jar.

Without missing a beat, she grabbed a mascara wand, gave Janvi a villainous twirl of a mustache, and, with precision, blackened out one of her teeth. Her fingers hovered over a jar of blush—her heart racing—before she shoved it into her overstuffed fanny pack like a seasoned pro.

“Kat, no!” Christian hissed, her voice cracking. “You can’t—oh my God, I can’t—” She stammered as Kat grabbed her hand and high-tailed it out of the store.

Ha! Take that, Janvi! You won’t get the sale on this jar of blush—Kat thought smugly to herself as Christian squawked and tried to cover her face with her bucket hat.

1 Week Earlier

June 25th

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