Free The Catcher in the Eye (America's Next Top Assistant Mystery Book 1) by Lotta Smith Page B

even a new hubby or two.”
    “New romances? I
don’t think so.” I shrugged. “New relationships, much less new husbands are not
part of the things I’m anticipating for my life.”
    “Why not?” He
asked curiously. “Is that because of the British paparazzi?”
    Five o’clock
shadow had started to appear on his jaw line. But somehow that looked rather
nice, even though he was wearing heavy makeup and women’s clothes. So he was
eccentric, but it was not bad eccentric. It was nice eccentricity. Just like a
glam rocker.
    “No,” I shook my
head, “They’re annoying but they have nothing to do with my life in general. I
know they’ll keep on calling me Kelly the Bitch forever and there’s nothing I
can do with that.”
    I tried to smile
but I wasn’t very sure if that worked very well.
    I continued. “I’ve
promised myself to change and spend my life doing something meaningful. And
living my life as a man-hopper isn’t a part of my plan, you know. I don’t want
to live like my mother.”
    “Kelly, what’s
wrong with you? Your mom’s great. Throwing parties to save dying museums from
closing is meaningful, if I may say.” Archangel shook his head, as if I
had mentioned something outrageously foolish. He had once met Mom years before
we got acquainted, and he stayed a big fan of her up to now.
    “I know. Mom’s great
both as a huge supporter of art and as a mother. Her taste in men has been mostly
good except she had this tendency to pick up husbands with short attention spans,
such as my biological father. Not to mention that she’s got this short
attention span issue herself as well. But at least, none of her former husbands
was convicted of anything criminal. That’s fabulous. It’s not like I don’t
appreciate her lifestyle, but following her path is not my best interest.”
    If you define smartness
as an ability to stay rich, my Mom—the Countess of a village in Scotland (she
became officially a lady by her ninth marriage) is a pure genius. Basically, she’s
a poster-woman for a rich-husband-magnet. I hate to sound superficial but most
of supposedly smart people were living in small and barely-decorated houses
despite hard work and everything. On the other hand, Mom’s been constantly
living in manses decorated by designers from maisons such as Versace and Hermes.
Anyway, I suppose it’s quite something that she’s never really worked but has
been living in nice manses that often come with real Matisse, Renoir, or
even Da Vinci paintings.
    I added. “I’ve once
tried to follow her path. And look what I’ve got—a marriage to a cheater-slash-swindler,
the following fiasco and a social suicide. So unlike her, who usually had
multiple next prospect-husbands-to-be lined up before the end of each nuptial,
I ended up as a socialite dropout. A jinx. I guess that’s very significant
evidence to rate my taste in men as ‘poor’ unlike ‘super-duper-excellent’ of
Mom’s.”  
    Archangel snorted
out laughing.
    “Excuse me, but
that’s not the part where you’re supposed to laugh! I was…I was totally
devastated, you know, feeling like a failure.”
    “You’re not a
failure. On the contrary, I thought you’re kind of intelligent for the first
time. At least, you’re capable of making an unbiased self-assessment.”
    “I’ll take that as
a compliment.” I shrugged. “I can understand your criticism for not getting
over the previous life with Warren. I know he’s a dirtbag. But my feelings
toward him are still sort of mixed and confused, as much as I feel so bitter, I
feel sorry for him. Maybe I’m crazy.”
    “Of course, you’re
crazy. One moment you’re happy for being normal and the next thing, you’re
fessing up your abnormality.” He nodded. “But it’s a normal craziness. After
all, love is a form of lunacy.”
    Without saying a
word, I chewed on my lower lip.  That was the best I could do to keep
myself from bursting into a full-blown sobbing.
    Was I pathetic,