It didn't take a private detective to find Matt Cutler. Want to find a guy on the UCLA track team? ….Hang out at the UCLA track.

I was dressed down in sweats and a hoodie with logo and school colors, courtesy of the campus shop. I looked like any other student ...maybe a little too student like with all the branded apparel. Still, no one seemed to notice.

I didn't have to wait too long. Matt was the real deal. He wasn't going to coast on his scholarship. He was going to work out every day and prove to them that he was worth their vote of confidence. I let him do a few laps before I made my way onto the track. I wanted to tire him out a bit so he couldn't bolt on me. ...and I found myself admiring his form as he circled the track. That was unexpected, but I told myself that it was just professional critique... his gait, his form, the way his thighs tensed and thrust with each step... the power effortlessly radiating from his glutes to the soles of his feet as he propelled himself around the track.... yeah... professional analysis... one runner critiquing another... that's what it was. What the hell else would it be?....

I shook off these thoughts and brought myself back to the mission at hand. I sprang onto the track and quickly caught up to him, since he was running for endurance and not for speed. I lapped him and smiled as I passed. I'm not sure he made the connection, so I poured on the speed, figuring at least that would get his attention and eventually came up from behind. He was waiting, and when I pulled up alongside he turned and said 'Shit, you're fast....' then his face did.... a thing... I think he clocked me, but it just wasn't clicking... what the hell would the famous movie star be doing at his school track, dressed like a campus co-op mannequin in all sorts of school branded gear, tearing around the track like an actual athlete. There was a disconnect. And though he struggled, his brain would not connect the two diverse images. So I had to do it for him.

“You run a lot better when you're wearing proper shoes. Not so sure I could outrun you now.” I grinned.

He quickly lost velocity as his brain shifted focus from his running.

“Katherine???” His look was priceless. “It IS you....?”

I just smiled back at him and said “That's kind of what I wanted to talk to you about....”

Matt reluctantly left the track and walked with me across the campus. I think curiosity trumped training discipline. At least this once. Or maybe he was intrigued that I sought him out. OK, maybe my ego's just out of control, but I felt kind of flattered that he curtailed his workout for me. I was sure he liked me. And it made me flush. Whoa. Too into character here. I needed to sound him out, and if I felt he was trustworthy, it was time to lay my cards on the table. ….well, not all my cards....

“Katherine!” he was certain now. “What the hell are you doing here? ….not that it's not great to see you.... but what the hell?....”

I smiled as confidently as I could muster. I had to bluff well to get him on board. We both had to think I was in total control of the moment.

“....So.... are you still interested in a career as a headline stealing journalist?”

He grinned shyly. “I was never a journalist. I just thought that maybe I could get some of that easy paparrazi money.... only it's not so easy.... long hours... it's cold and damp and you're usually hiding in bushes surrounded by animals.... and then there's also the wildlife” he grinned.

I smirked. “OK. So you're not planning on being the next Woodward or Bernstein or Glenn Greenwald.... still.... care to help a girl solve a mystery?”

I trust my instincts. I had a good feeling about Matt. I took a calculated risk and told him about me.

Well, not everything! I did confess that I was a celebrity ringer hired by Katherine's people to keep her in the public spotlight while she was indispose ….but that this had gone on far longer than I expected and that I was beginning to wonder about the fate of the actual Katherine.

He wasn't going to sell me out for a fast buck. Especially when I explained to him how much more lucrative it would be to see this through and find the real Katherine. He'd have a much better story, and my full cooperation when we learned everything and were ready to tell the story. Also, I suspect he may have had a bit of a crush on me

That came as a total surprise. I knew there was something there when he thought I was Katherine, but I thought that as soon as I confessed to being a celebrity stand-in, his interest would wane or maybe even turn to active contempt. I miscalculated. He was different, but not in the way I expected. He relaxed. I think Katherine intimidated him a bit. He seemed every bit as intrigued ...maybe even more so since it wasn't a high-powered celebrity sitting across from him, but just a normal girl who looked uncannily like a high-powered celebrity. But I was anything but a normal girl, and I had to find some way to keep him at arms length without that Katherine intimidation thing.

I told him what little I knew, and what Dennis had seen and overheard and passed along to me. I didn't out anyone by name. If this blew up, I would be the only one busted. I mentioned that my cousin had some of his geeky hacker friends working on finding any trace of Katherine or comings and goings of anyone in her entourage that might seem out of place and betray her undisclosed location.

Matt said he had a few contacts from his days as a would be papparazzo, and he'd try and hit them up for some sleuthing tricks or any other techniques he might be able to get from them. He said he'd use the excuse of a stalked relative and a psycho ex he was trying to help with, so they wouldn't get the whiff of a story. It seemed like a plan, so I gave him a Gmail address I set up just for this, since there was an encryption plug-in for chrome that made security dead simple. Our encryption key was 'DondeK2?' We would chat by email until Matt's next school break, by which time we hoped to have uncovered something to act upon.

So for the moment, life went on as Katherine.

But what a life! Down to San Diego for a day, then a leisurely cruise back up the coast, and day at Catalina for Dennis and the entourage, and some well deserved shore leave for Captain Steve and his crew. They were quite surprised at this, but once they wrapped their head around the fact that 'The Sea-B” as I learned they called me, had given them all a day off with no strings attached and no hidden agenda, they warmed up to the idea, and we ended up having to stay an extra day until the crew was once again ...sea worthy.

I had fun jousting with the paparrazzi, and I'm beginning to think they were starting to enjoy this little cat and mouse game too. It began to feel less like malevolent stalking and more like a mischievous game of tag. I would lead them on a merry chase through some ridiculous places and situations, then when they would inevitably catch me, instead of responding like a cornered animal, I threw my hands up with a 'dang. You got me!' expression, but they quickly noticed when they 'caught me' it was always in a place or doing something that just promoted or enhanced the Katherine Keller brand. Say what you will about these guys, but they're not dumb. I think they figured out pretty quickly that they were being played, but like a dog with a ball, they couldn't help but spring after me when I'd engage with them. Actually, I think the sense of playfulness was infectious. Their demeanor was more like friendly rivals in a pick-up game than natural adversaries. This was how I chose to amuse myself on the island. And I suspect they were having some competitive fun too.

Before we set sail, I led the press-pack on one last merry chase. I hadn't done a triathlon in ages and had kind of been missing the satisfying exertion of the grueling event. While far from a triathlon, I made it a point to go for a run in full view of my paparrazzi pack, who dutifully took off after me in their cars. God forbid any of them should actually run – only Matt Cutler had broken the mold on that count. My 'hounds' were rather wily though.... at least some of them... who had the bright idea to rent mopeds so they could follow me when I strayed from the road. It let them pretty much keep pace with me, but I was still pretty far ahead of them when I got up to the strait by Pin Rock and turning back to grin at my pursuers, stripped off my running tights, shoes and windbreaker to reveal my speedo racing suit and dove into the water headed for the other side. Some immediately high tailed it to go the long way around Catalina Harbor, while the more patient of their brethren followed me from shore with their telephoto lenses. They saw me leave the water by the waiting racing bike as I donned the bike pants and cycling top, shoes and helmet and tore off toward town. It was only when those who had remained across the harbor and photographed what type of bike I was riding spotted it in town, that the hunting party felt they had again picked up the scent. They stormed the restaurant where my bike was parked, only to find a room filled with Katherine Kellers. Old ones, young ones, heavy ones, short ones, Asian ones, African ones, Native American ones, even an Albino one! I had Mikey find every available Katherine Keller impersonator in the western US and Canada and fly them out for this prank. I met with them all before the gag and I think by the time I had finished my pep-talk, they were all as gleeful about this stunt as I was. I suspected half of them signed on just for the chance to meat the 'real' Katherine Keller, and I had to wonder how they would have felt if they knew I was just an imposter like them. Thankfully, no one got wise, and the prank went off superbly.

I did instruct the restaurant to wine and dine my pals in the press for being such good sports, and laughed at the notion that while they were still in the process of realizing how thoroughly they had been punked, I would be lounging on the deck of the Dodge&Burn, soaking up rays while we headed back toward Monterey.

The tabloid coverage was actually rather flattering, recalling my 'antics' at taunting the press corps on my 'Island Romp', making me sound a bit more hedonistic than I actually was. Still, more than a few tabloids made Wile E Coyote / Road Runner references when referring to our merry games of chase.

I even took out a Twitter account under the username 'KatchMeFUKan' as 'TheREALKatherneKeller' from “Hollywoodland” after a little phone and fax wrangling with Twitter's management, Mikey got me a green 'Verified' status and I started publicly needling the press. I got about 117 thousand followers in under 24 hours, and Mikey told me which were owned by journalists and media companies and I followed all of them back, so we could converse publicly OR privately.

After a few days and a few hundred thousand followers, I started teasing particular members of the press corps. I only engaged with those who were good sports. Trolls got ignored. Most of my posts were like 'nice shot of me in that t-back speedo, but a real pro would have shot me getting OUT of the water, not before going in. #meep-meep.' And I attached an extreme selfie of my left eye seemingly without makeup, brow raised, glistening as if from beading water (though it was actually glycerin & petroleum jelly– thanks Dennis) and kind of out of focus in the foreground, my perfectly manicured right hand giving a beckoning 'bring it on' curl like Keanu Reeves in the Matrix. Yes, I was enjoying this!

It quickly became obvious that I was playing with the celebrity press, and most of them got it. They knew that our sparring in public media drove traffic to both our sites. Most were pretty game about the public interplay, and I got more than a few private messages saying, 'love the public jousting, but wtf. Why now?' I would invariably reply 'obviously, I'm a slow learner, but it's working now. Let's keep it up! <3 K2'. As with most of the 'gut decisions' I made about being Katherine, this seemed to be working even better than hoped for.