by Doug Cooper
“Yes, I think I would like that.” Eva leans over, whispering. “So who was the client? Anyone I might know?”
The gallery owner looks around to see if anyone is listening even though they are the only ones there. She lowers her voice to match Eva’s. “You might. He just won an Oscar.”
Eva feigns surprise. “Get out of here. No way.” She slaps the gallery owner’s knee. “Really? Levi Combs?”
“The one and only,” the gallery owner reveals. Looking around again before speaking, she says, “Between you and me, he didn’t look so good when he came in here. And now I just heard the DA is pursuing charges for those pictures with Emily James. How scandalous! To think he was just here in my little gallery. Only in LA.”
“That’s so crazy. Maybe you backed the wrong artist,” Eva says. “All this publicity surely would’ve driven up the prices for Gabe’s work.”
“Believe me, I know. Been kicking myself ever since. To make things worse, Gabe also showed up while Levi was here, and there was a bit of a scuffle. Quite an ordeal to be honest.” She stands and walks behind the counter. “I feel absolutely terrible for what happened. It would be so great if you reached out to him and could help in some way.” She sets one of Gabe’s cards on the counter and slides it toward the edge in Eva’s direction.
“Of course,” Eva says, rising and approaching the counter. “I’ll even tell him you sent me.” She picks up the card, cupping it in her hand.
“That’s not necessary,” the gallery owner says. “I just want everything to work out for him.” She hands Eva a flyer. “Here’s some info on the new show that kicks off here this week. Hope to see you at the opening.”
Eva takes the flyer in the hand with Gabe’s card, thanking her once again before leaving. On the way to the car, she tosses both in a trashcan. As she drives away, she knows she can’t just show up at his place unannounced after what happened, but she doesn’t want to leave things as they are either. She dials his number.
Gabe answers on the third ring. “Gabe Adams Photography.” Eva is quiet. He says, “Hello? You’ve reached Gabe Adams.”
“Hey, Gabe. It’s Eva.” She winces at how nonchalant she sounds. “I know you probably don’t want to speak to me, but I was hoping we could talk.” She pauses for a reaction. Hearing nothing, she barrels on. “I heard what happened at the gallery. I feel terrible about it. If it makes you feel any better, he fired me too, and it sounds like he’s getting arrested.” She waits again for him to speak. “Are you still there?”
“I’m here,” Gabe says, not revealing he is the star witness in the case against Levi.
Eva, hoping Gabe will see her, drives down Mission to get on the Santa Ana Freeway to head toward West Covina. “I really wasn’t sure if you’d answer.”
“I didn’t recognize the number. Probably wouldn’t have answered if I did,” Gabe says, his voice low and distant. “It’s different than the one I saved in my phone…the one you gave me.”
“I’m so sorry about that,” Eva says. “I just feel sick about what happened.”
“You already said that,” Gabe points out. “Is there something you wanted?”
“I’d still like to buy some of the pictures if you have them.” Eva angles the car onto the Ten, her navigation system showing his house is twenty-two minutes away. “I also have some other work, if you’re interested.”
Gabe quiets for a moment. He wants to tell her to get bent, but he knows he can’t afford to. After losing the show and having so much invested in inventory, he needs every sale and opportunity he can get. No matter whom it’s from. He closes his eyes, swallowing hard, before reluctantly spitting out the words. “I’ll be in the studio all afternoon if you want to stop by.”
Eva says, “That’ll work. I’m not too far from you now. I can come by in twenty to thirty minutes if that’s not too soon.”
“Didn’t realize you did much business out this way,” Gabe says unable to stifle his skepticism. No one can ever be anywhere in LA in twenty minutes unless they’re already en-route or in the neighborhood.
“I had a luncheon at the Rose Tea Garden at the Huntington in Pasadena, so I was right next door,” Eva lies. “Thought I’d call before I headed back to the office. We can arrange another time if that’s better.”
“No, now is good,” Gabe says. “No sense in you driving all the way back. I guess I’ll see you soon then. Just come around back to the studio.
Thirty minutes later, Eva is knocking at the back door. Gabe stands at his twenty-four-inch inkjet printer, holding the edge of a poster-sized photo as it feeds out of the machine. He waves her in. The machine wheezes and churns, struggling to complete the task. “Just give me a second,” he puffs at her in frustration.
Eva walks over next to him, looking at the half-printed picture of the waterfall. “Is that—”
“Yep, one of the before shots,” Gabe says. “Lighting was pristine that day.” The printer suddenly stops. Gabe bangs the side of the machine. “Come on. Not again. He motions to a pile of three other partially printed pictures on the floor. “This nag is on her last leg.” He lets go of the picture and walks over to the computer, punching several keys in irritation. The printer activates and spits out the unfinished picture onto the floor with the others. “Guess you won’t be buying that one. Probably wouldn’t be the best choice anyway, all things considered.” He pads to the stacks of framed pictures leaning against the wall. “Pick whichever ones you want from here.”
She strolls over and thumbs through the stacks, picture by picture. “Like I said on the phone, I’m really sorry about the gallery opening. I can’t believe he went that far.” She pulls out a picture that was shot from the ground looking up a redwood tree. The trunk of the tree stretches across the entire bottom of the picture. The sides and thick grooves in the bark along with neighboring trees angle inward toward a central focal point at the top of the picture. Patches of blue sky and light break through the leaves and surrounding trees. “Is this a new one?”
Gabe walks up beside her. “No, that’s from a trip I took up north to Humboldt Redwoods State Park last year. I love how the light seems to be coming from all sides and everything is pointing in one direction.”
She hands the picture to Gabe. “This one for sure.” Gabe sets the picture on the worktable. Eva continues looking through the stacks. She says, “I’m so sorry about the show. Levi has gone completely off the rails.” She pulls out another picture and hands it to Gabe. “Have you got another gallery lined up yet?”
“No,” Gabe says, stacking the picture with the other selection. “Securing this show took me years, but since reviews were good, I’m hoping that it will go quicker this time.”
“You know, as much of a pain as all this has been, it could actually help you. Might not be for what you want, but people know who you are now.” Eva’s voice softens. “I can probably help you too, if you want. I have some connections with other galleries around town. We’ll structure the contract so something like what Levi did can’t happen again.”
“That’s kind of you, but why would you want to help me?” Gabe asks. “Aren’t I responsible for getting you fired.”
“Not at all. That was all Levi. But let me be upfront. I wouldn’t be doing it for free, and as you pointed out, I did just lose my biggest client. I have quite a bit of revenue to make up. Thinking it might be time I diversify.” She stops looking through the pictures and turns toward Gabe. What she could make off Gabe would barely be worth her time. She needed about ten Ira’s to cover the loss of Levi or one of them to rise to that level, which is where her time should be invested. She says, “But it’s not just the money. I also feel terrible about what happened between us.” She places her hand on Gabe’s.
He slides over to the next stack of pictures, recoiling his hand and burying it in his pocket. “There’s some really good night shots in here that I’l
l think you’ll like.”
Eva moves over next to him, turning her focus back to the pictures. “More than anything though, I could use a good photographer. I’m tired of dealing with all these scumbag paparazzi. I need someone I know is good and can trust.” She stops at a picture of the sun setting behind a single palm tree on a beach, the sky streaked with purple and yellow.
“Moonlight Beach in Encinitas,” Gabe says. She hands him the picture. He puts it with the others. “Why in heavens would you think you can trust me? You hardly know me.”
Eva leaves the stacks of pictures, following Gabe to the worktable. “Trusting someone doesn’t necessarily have anything to do with how long you’ve known them. She walks along the edge of the worktable, running her hand along the side. “Sometimes you just have to trust your feelings.”
“I don’t know anything about your world,” Gabe says. “And based on the past weeks, I’m not sure I want to.”
Eva stops next to him. “There’s really not much to it. I just tell you where to go and what to shoot and you’ll make several hundred dollars an hour.” She nods toward the printer. “Good way to make extra money for new equipment.”
Gabe stiffens, again fighting his instinct to decline and tell her off in the process. If it affected just him, he would’ve done it already. But every time the rage rises in his throat, he steadies himself, remembering Abbie is the one most impacted by his struggles. What he did sell those first few nights and got for the photos, that money was all going toward catching up on bills and the mortgage, most of which he was two months behind on. Abbie also had college coming up. He had saved some of the insurance money from their parents for her education, but not nearly enough. He says, “None of the work you need is illegal?”
“No, and nothing negative either. It’s all just to build one of my younger client’s career.” She removes a business card and pen from her purse and writes an address on the back of the card. “Just go to Chateau Marmont tonight and take pictures of Emily and my client, Ira Bethel. They presented together at the Oscars and are supposedly dating, but it’s really just a sham to boost both of their images.” Eva plucks a hundred-dollar bill from her wallet and places it next to the card. “Go there at nine tonight and give this to the maître d’ along with my card. I’ll call him ahead of time so he’s expecting you, and he’ll let you into the dining room. Tomorrow morning, you can bring the pictures along with the ones I picked out here, and I’ll pay you for everything. I should also have some prospects for a gallery showing.”
Gabe twists the card in his hand. His eyes fixate on her last name, still a relatively new word to him since she had lied when they met. “Very well, Ms. Florez. I guess I accept.”
She holds her hand out to confirm the deal. “I really do hope we can put all the other stuff behind us.” Gabe places his hand in hers, their embrace lingering. Eva says, “Well, not all of it.”
◆◆◆
Levi opens the sliding glass wall of his bedroom and walks out on the terrace. The smell and bluster of the ocean roll along the treetops and across his lawn up to him. The solitude seethes his emptiness. He can’t stay in the house and just wait for something to happen. He knows everything is not going to blow over this time. He’s got to get rid of the body stuffed in his freezer, but it’s too risky to move it with all the eyes on him. The former frenzy that followed him wherever he went is now a full-on furor. The convocation of media, protestors, and spectacle chasers has tripled outside his gate. His lawyers assured him the personal connection with Marcus and his sister will work in his favor, but it still isn’t enough to get the case thrown out. It will help cast him as the victim of a personal vendetta rather than the reckless child predator the court will portray him to be. Their main advice, similar to Eva’s in the past, is that he just can’t do anything to diminish the positive momentum with any type of incident. For once he heard the message. But he still needs to dispose of the body before someone comes looking for the guy. He knows people who have helped him clean up messes in the past, but this is another level. He doesn’t want to involve someone else and make it worse. Unfortunately he fired the only one he can truly trust. He decides to call her anyway and dials her number. She has never said no to him before. The call goes right to voicemail. He dials again. Straight to voicemail. He texts her—one, two, three times—each one more desperate than the one before, oscillating between remorse for how he treated her and anger for her lack of response. The best option is to just go to her place, he concludes. If nothing else, it will get him away from his house, away from everything.
Levi locates the extra key Eva gave him when her place was also the office. Changing his clothes, he sees Hannah crawling from her log into the small pond in the vivarium. Not knowing when he’ll come back, he says, “I can’t leave my girl behind. You want to go for a ride, baby?” He fetches a large duffel bag and lines the bottom with hot-water bottles covered by a towel. He slides Hannah inside a pillowcase and places her in the bag. “There you go, baby. Nice and cozy.” He zips up the bag and hangs it over his shoulder. The bag moves along his hip as Hannah adjusts inside. “Just settle down. You won’t be in there long.” He goes to his safe and fills a backpack with a hundred thousand dollars in cash, his 9 mm, an extra clip, a box of shells, and an ounce of cocaine—everything he needs for an extended stay away.
On his way through the garage, Levi opens the freezer to check on his guest. A thin white layer of frost covers the exposed skin on his face and arms. The earlobe that Levi had sliced was no longer attached, a bloody scab in its place. The gash on his neck had peeled back as it froze, revealing a rosy mash of flesh and cartilage. His left leg is bent under and behind his back. Concerned about what happened to the piece of the ear, Levi lifts behind the guy’s head to search for it, but the frigid body does not budge. He pulls harder attempting to lift the entire mass, but it is too awkward and heavy. The backpack falls from his shoulder onto the body. He picks it up and cradles it against his left side. The lid slams closed. A burst of cold air rushes over. Hannah squirms in the bag on his opposite hip. He pats the side. “I’m sorry, baby. I know you don’t like that. Let’s get out of here.” He walks over to the Jeep and places her in the passenger seat and the backpack on the floor. He knows better than to drive the Bugatti. It would draw too much attention.
Backing out of the garage, he starts down the long driveway and activates the gate. Lights from the surrounding news trucks flood the entrance. The congregation spills into the driveway blocking his way. Riders jump on their scooters ready to give chase. Levi increases speed wailing on the horn to clear them out. Row by row the rabble roll off to the side, realizing he is not stopping. Levi rests his hand on the duffel bag on the passenger seat, scratching it lightly. “Sorry for all the commotion, pumpkin. Just another few minutes and it’ll be smooth sailing.”
As the Jeep passes through the gate, the mob folds in behind him. Screams and shouts shoot from all sides blending into an inaudible din. Levi accelerates to escape the encroaching horde as they slap and bang the Jeep. The remaining ones in his path dive into the grass on both sides. Levi takes the corner wide onto the main road crossing over the centerline. An oncoming car swerves to avoid him. He jerks the wheel back to the right, overcompensating and skidding off the road. The Jeep scrapes along a news truck and van parked on the side. Stones and sparks spray in all directions. Levi regains control and steers the Jeep back between the lines. Mounted scooters fall in behind, but Levi has too much of a head start and too much speed for them to catch up. He turns off the PCH and weaves through Paradise Cove until dusk settles and he can travel back on the main roads under the protection of darkness to find an out-of-the-way motel to hole up and figure out his next move.
◆◆◆
At the Hall of Justice, Marcus doesn’t wait to be summoned. If the head deputy hasn’t already heard about the scene at the detention center, Marcus figures he will first thing wh
en he arrives. Hoping to be the one to break the news, Marcus waits in a chair outside the head deputy’s office. The staff trickles in to start the day in reverse pecking order. The lower level clerks followed by their managers then the assistant DAs and finally the head deputy’s assistant, which means he’s not far behind. She says, “Camped out. This can’t be good. Let me check his schedule and see when I can fit you in.” She sets her tote on the desk. “But not before my coffee. Can I get you a cup? You look like you can use one.”
“No, I’m fine,” Marcus says, not moving. His arms wrap around his briefcase and clutch it against his chest like a security blanket.
“Suit yourself. Just to let you know, he still won’t be here for another thirty minutes. I can just call for you when he arrives.”
“That’s all right. It’s really important. I’ll just wait.”
She returns twenty minutes later carrying an extra cup of coffee. Marcus reaches for it even though he declined when she offered. Breezing by, she says, “For the head deputy. He likes it room temperature. Should be along shortly.”
Moments later, the head deputy, mobile phone pressed to his ear, streams across the office, triggering the usual feigned busyness his presence typically evokes. Seeing Marcus waiting, he wraps up the conversation. Exchanging morning pleasantries with his assistant, he requests her to reschedule his first appointment then barks “Inside!” at Marcus.
