Focus Lost

by Doug Cooper

  Gabe stands in the doorway watching her. “I’m sorry about before.” Abbie doesn’t react. Her legs maintain the same rhythm, and her pen scribbles furiously in the notebook. He navigates the piles of clothes and sits on the side of the bed.

  Feeling his weight, Abbie removes the left ear bud, the music audible through the tiny opening. She pauses the song on her phone. “Hey. Sorry, I didn’t hear you come in. I know, I have to clean my room. Promise, I’ll do it right after I’m finished with my homework.”

  Gabe picks up the photo of her and him with their parents on the day of his graduation from her nightstand. “Doesn’t seeing this every day make you sad?”

  She takes out the other ear bud and rotates on her side, her head held up by her hand and elbow planted on the bed. “Of course I miss Mom and Dad, but the picture also reminds me how lucky I am to be here.” Both of their eyes drift back to the photograph on her nightstand. She places her hand on Gabe’s. “If you hadn’t let me come with you, I’d have been with them. I just feel like sometime maybe you would be better off if I had been. You’d be off in Chicago or New York or somewhere with this great photography job, not home raising a moody, teenage girl.”

  It had been much tougher than Gabe ever thought it would be. But it wasn’t the Abbie stuff that was so difficult. While that was trying at times, they always seemed to find a way through. It was the financial side of everything. At first, between the insurance money and their parents’ savings and retirement investments, they had more money than they knew what to do with. That’s why he started the photography business in the first place. He thought that even if it took a few years to get going, they would be fine. But then the bills started rolling in and the income didn’t. Even though each year at the stand had been a little bit better, they were still operating at a loss, and now the reserves were just about gone.

  Selling the shots of Levi and Emily wasn’t the first time the debate about celebrity photos had come up between Gabe and Abbie. Anytime another big story broke with accompanying photos, Abbie chastised him for not focusing on more lucrative subject matter. But Gabe had always been adamant about steering clear of what he thought was shallow, opportunistic work, which really didn’t make sense to her because he repeatedly whored himself out doing family portraits, senior pictures, and weddings. To Abbie, celebrity photos seemed much easier and worth a lot more.

  Gabe’s plan to promote and market his business was to open the street stand downtown around Gallery Row to sell prints of all different sizes until he could land a gallery show. People kept telling him that he would have more success around Venice Beach or the Santa Monica Pier, but he knew there would be a lot more competition there, too. He also wanted to be close to the galleries and not just peddling post cards to tourists. While it sounded simple, it took him over six years to land this first show. On the day that it finally happened, Gabe had paraded into The Box Gallery downtown to make his standard pitch. As usual, he was pumped up for a positive outcome but prepared for another disappointment. A nylon portfolio case dangled from his shoulder. The stark white walls contrasted with the bare whale gray concrete floors. The open, minimalist space pushed the attention to the artwork spaced across the walls.

  A female in her mid-thirties with a short blonde pixie cut, which was pushed forward and swept to the left, wiped the front of a framed picture hanging on the wall with a microfiber rag. A bottle of cleaning solution hung from her other hand. She rubbed the glass covering with several broad strokes then stepped back from the picture to analyze the result, moving back in for more swipes with the rag.

  Gabe strolled up behind her. “Are you the manager?”

  Her eyes traveled the length of Gabe, first to the top of his head then to the bottom and back up. “I’m the owner.”

  “I’m sorry,” Gabe said. “I’m surprised—”

  “That I’m a woman?” She straightened her body, further sizing him up.

  Gabe slumped in his shoes. “No, it’s not that at all. Just surprised that it’s you who’s cleaning. Figured you’d have someone for that.”

  Her face softened and shoulders settled, slowly opening to him. “Got to fill the dead time somehow. What can I do for you?”

  Gabe lifted the portfolio from the floor, shaking it back and forth. “Are you accepting submissions for any new shows?”

  She switched the rag to the hand with the bottle of solution and waved Gabe to the seating area in the middle of the gallery. Two white S-shaped chairs sat on one side of an acrylic coffee table facing the door. “Let’s see what you got.”

  Gabe unzipped the portfolio case, spreading it open on the clear table. He sat down in the chair next to her. “I’m a landscape photographer. All these are photos of mine from California.”

  She placed the rag and solution on the floor next to her and leaned forward, flipping through the prints. “These are good.”

  “Thank you,” Gabe said, bending toward the table to align his body with hers. “I also have a street stand over on Gallery Row.”

  She turned to the last print and eased back into the chair. “But not quite right for me.”

  Gabe hesitated for a moment, surprised by the abrupt decision. Replaying the conversation in his head, he closed the portfolio and zipped it back up. “I see.”

  She picked up the rag and solution and stood back up. “You can leave your info though. I’ll call if something comes up.”

  Gabe removed a card from a pocket in the portfolio and handed it to her. “Do you know of any galleries looking for local landscape shots?”

  She walked toward the door, prompting Gabe to follow. “Sorry, I only stay up on galleries with work like mine.”

  Gabe slung the strap over his shoulder, stopping at the door. “Thanks, for the consideration. Sorry for taking up your time.”

  She held the door open. Gabe slid out onto the sidewalk. Propping the door open with her foot, she sprayed the glass with the solution and wiped it down with the rag. “Good luck. Hope you find a home for those. They’re too good to not be on display somewhere.”

  Dejected, Gabe slogged down the sidewalk back toward the stand. At the corner, he stopped and took out a paper and pen from the side pocket of the portfolio. A list of twenty galleries filled the front. All but three were crossed off. He drew a line through the The Box Gallery then walked to his retail stand on the corner of Sixth and Spring.

  Rows of matted, nature photographs covered a rectangular folded table. More eight by ten and four by six framed pictures hung from a display. Abbie, the sleeves of her T-shirt pushed up around her shoulders, slouched in a folding lawn chair next to the table. Strands of her blonde hair stuck out from the backward Lakers baseball hat sitting on her head.

  Gabe plodded up to the table. “Thanks for minding the store.”

  She looked up at Gabe, cupping her hand over her eyes to block out the sun. “How’d it go?”

  “The usual—another big fat no.”

  “I’m sorry.” Abbie said. “Next one will be the one. Don’t give up.”

  “I probably should’ve years ago, but I’m not smart enough to quit. Still have a few more to try. Any luck here?” Gabe gestured to the inventory on the table.

  Abbie said, “Not much other than my tan and some lewd propositions from carloads of teenage boys.”

  Gabe unfolded a lawn chair and sat next to her. “Maybe we need a new location.”

  “I keep telling you, you should let me get a job to help out.”

  “If you work somewhere else, who will fill in here when I go take the photos?” Gabe asked. “Besides, I want you to focus on school.”

  “Just dip into my college money if we need it. I don’t even know if I’m going.”

  Gabe sits up, his voice filling with authority. “You’re going, young lady. You know that’s what Mom and Dad wanted.”

  “What they wante
d was for both of us to go. It’s just not fair. You were so excited to go. Now you’re stuck here selling your photos on the street and begging for opportunities with stuffy gallery owners.”

  Gabe rubbed her back. “Don’t worry. I’ll still end up in the same spot. The path is just going to be a little different.”

  Abbie’s eyes rounded, filling with warmth. “If it will help cheer you up, I can stay here the rest of the afternoon, and you can go take pictures.”

  Gabe said, “There is a bridge I’ve been wanting to check out. I can be back by six.”

  The Art on Traction gallery owner, her red hair blazing in the bright sunshine, stopped to peruse the photographs on the table. Gabe stepped over next to her. “Special today is one for ten or three for twenty on the smaller prints. Any of the photographs can be framed in the size of your choice.”

  Her pale, freckled fingers flipped through the stacks. “These are very good. Are you the photographer?”

  “Yes, ma’am. Took everything you see here myself.”

  She stepped back from the table and turned toward Gabe. “Do you have an agent or showing in a gallery anywhere?”

  “Not at the moment,” Gabe said. “I’m currently shopping some things around to several galleries.”

  She removed a flyer from her purse and handed it to him. “I’m opening a new gallery down on Traction in an old automotive repair shop next month.”

  “I know that spot. I was just over that way talking to the owner of The Box,” Gabe interrupted nervously. “Unfortunately, she passed, though.”

  “I think what you have would fit well in the show that I want to open with. Are you free now to come look at the space and discuss this further.”

  Gabe reached over and grabbed the nylon portfolio he thought he had retired for the day. “Of course. We can go through the work and, if you’re still interested, decide which ones to use. I’m also out shooting a few times a week so if there’s anything specific you’re looking for that I don’t have, I’m happy to do some new stuff.” He looked over at Abbie, who bounced her thin eyebrows in excitement and held up crossed fingers. He said, “I guess the bridge will have to wait. I’ll be back shortly.”

  The gallery owner fanned her arm down the sidewalk. “Shall we?”

  At the gallery, she picked out the twenty pieces that he would eventually premiere at the opening. Only a month had passed since then, but so much had already changed. His work is hanging in an actual gallery; he has sold his first full-sized pieces; and the money from the Levi and Emily photos put them ahead of their bills for the first time in a long while.

  Sitting next to Abbie on the bed, Gabe brings over his other hand on top of Abbie’s. “I wouldn’t trade my life with you for anything. We’re through the tough part. Things are finally starting to go our way. It might have taken longer than we planned, but it’s happening. I’m sorry if I made you feel differently. I know you were only trying to help.”

  “I should’ve checked with you first though,” Abbie says. “I didn’t think the police would get involved. What did Mr. Ambrose want when he stopped by?”

  Gabe sits down on the bed. “They want to press charges. Wanted to know if I had other pictures—which I don’t, if anyone asks. He was also pressuring me to be a witness. I told him that I couldn’t really add or provide anything else. Hopefully they’ll handle it from here and leave us out.”

  Abbie jerks up, folding her legs underneath her. “What about Eva from last night?” She shakes his hands excitedly. “Don’t be mad at her. She was just doing her job. You should give her a second chance.”

  “Shouldn’t you be cleaning your room?” Gabe asks, standing from the bed and angling toward the door. “This place is a mess.”

  ◆◆◆

  Levi turns off the Avenue of the Stars onto the private drive leading to the tall, IM Pei–designed Century Tower, the first residential project in Century City back in 1964. Jack Benny, Diana Ross, Michael Douglas, and many other stars over the years have lived here, and now Emily James. Paparazzi flock around the travertine-flanked iron gates at the entranceway. With his mobile phone to his ear, Levi navigates through the muck of photographers. “Since you won’t answer or return my messages, I’m coming over,” he says, ending the call and dropping the phone between his legs on the seat.

  Paparazzi swarm the vehicle escorting it to the valet. Questions come from all directions.

  “Do you expect to win the Oscar?”

  “Is it true your relationship with Emily James is more than professional?”

  “Is Ms. James really pregnant?”

  Ignoring the inquiries, Levi stares straight through the windshield and stops the Jeep next to the valet stand. He snags the phone from the seat and exits the vehicle, leaving the engine running for the approaching valet.

  The doorman intercepts him under the glass-canopy porte-cochere entrance into the building. “I’m sorry, Mr. Combs. I can’t let you pass. I’ll have to call up first.”

  Levi steps up to him, standing nose-to-nose, trying to intimidate. “Tell her I’m not leaving until I speak to her.”

  The paparazzi snap pictures of the mild confrontation. Sensing the attention his aggressive stance is attracting, Levi slides back. “Can I at least wait inside while you call?”

  The doorman nods and leads Levi into the grand lobby, which is adorned in limestone and sycamore wood paneling. Levi sits on a couch in a waiting area by the sweeping staircase. The doorman walks to the concierge stand and picks up the house phone. Levi watches the conversation but can’t hear what is being said. The doorman hangs up the phone and returns. Levi stands to proceed upstairs.

  The doorman says, “I’m sorry, sir. She said to wait here.”

  “She wants to meet in the lobby?” Levi turns toward the glass front, smeared with paparazzi. “In front of all of them?”

  “Yes, sir. That’s what she said.” The doorman returns to the entrance but does not go back outside. He turns his body, so he can monitor the front and Levi at the same time.

  Emily emerges from the elevator. Levi rises and meets her in the middle of the lobby. “Let’s go upstairs.”

  Waving to the photographers, Emily smiles while speaking, her lips not moving. “Why? There’s nothing more to say. We had fun. Now it’s over.”

  Levi moves between her and the photographers. “Is this you or your business managers talking?”

  “It’s my decision,” Emily says. “Don’t make this any harder than it is.”

  “But I need you right now.” Levi attempts eye contact by moving into her line of sight, but each time he does, she turns her head the opposite way. “Everyone else is turning on me now.”

  She turns her eyes on him for a moment. “I’m sure you’ll be fine.”

  Levi takes her hands in his. “I won’t be though. Can we just go somewhere and talk? Everything changed after we were together.”

  Emily tries to casually lower her hands, but Levi won’t let go. She glares at him. “Are you fucking nuts? Don’t do this. Are you seriously making me be the mature one? You wanted to see me and now you have. It’s time to go.”

  Levi’s tone and words sharpen. “You’re the one who wanted this. Don’t pull away from me now. Let’s fight this together.”

  Emily motions for the doorman to come over. “Bryan, can you show Mr. Combs out?”

  Levi steps toward the approaching doorman and extends his arm. “I’m leaving.” He looks back at Emily. “I can’t believe you caused all this and now you’re turning your back on me. How can you be so cold?” The doorman grabs Levi’s arm to lead him out. Levi rips away. “Keep your fucking hands off me.”

  The doorman steps between Levi and Emily. The murmur and excitement of the paparazzi penetrate through the glass. Levi backs away. The doorman corrals Levi toward the entrance. Levi flings his hands in frustration to
ward Emily and heads out through the front glass double doors.

  The paparazzi swarm around Levi. “What’s going on between you and Ms. James?” one of them says. Levi shoves past him.

  Another photographer blocks Levi’s path. “Were you really fired from your next film?” Levi attempts to sidestep him. “What’s it like to be dismissed by a seventeen-year-old?”

  This time Levi doesn’t avoid the question. He counters with a punch, knocking the photographer to the ground. Levi descends on top of him and releases a flurry of blows. Only a few of the other photographers attempt to pull Levi away. The rest are too busy taking pictures. Levi brakes free and runs toward his waiting Jeep. The paparazzi trail, snapping pictures and recording as Levi drives away.

  Chapter 11

  Gabe waits in his Suburban parked in front of Century City Mall across the street from Eva’s office at Constellation Place. He hardly slept the night before. He never really wanted the photos in the first place. He would’ve given them to her if she had just asked. He was more upset because he thought what they shared was real and believed it could lead to more.

  Gabe had never really dated anyone seriously, so he didn’t have much experience handling romantic situations. In high school he was the awkward art student, more comfortable with his own ideas than other people. He had convinced himself that college would be his time. When that didn’t come, he told himself once things were more stable with Abbie, opportunities for other relationships would surface. He thought Eva showing up at his opening was one of those opportunities. All of the other misfortune that happened to him over the years, he had to take. There really wasn’t much he could’ve done about it. But this was different.

  Gabe opens the Suburban door and steps into the street, still not sure what he is going to say or do once he sees her. A white Bugatti Veyron pulls up to the curb in front of Constellation Place, the glare from the noon sun shining down on the windshield, concealing the driver. Gabe reopens his driver side door to conceal himself, watching the car through his window. Eva bounds from the office down the walkway toward the idling French-made sports car. Gabe leans into the cab to further hide as she gets in the passenger side. The Bugatti’s twenty wheels angle in his direction, and the car zips away from the curb. Glancing over his shoulder as the car passes, he catches a glimpse of Levi behind the wheel. Gabe climbs into the Suburban and reverses it around to follow. Weaving in and out, Levi makes quick, aggressive moves to advance one spot at a time. Unconcerned as long as he can see him, Gabe stays a safe but short distance behind.