by L. B. Dunbar
“Explain,” he growled.
“I didn’t take those shots.”
“I don’t believe you.” There was a finality in his tone. He did not believe me. I had a sinking feeling he wasn’t about to believe anything else I said next.
“Those are after shots.” He still wasn’t looking at me.
My voice came out weak as I tried to explain.
“The first shots were taken before. They are from a different photographer. Arturo looks playful, like he’s having fun and enjoying the ride. Enjoying the chase.”
Lansing still clasped my wrist as his eyes met mine. And his eyes had icy flames of hatred in them.
“The second shots are…”
“How could you?” he snarled.
“I didn’t…”
“Stop. Just stop. Get out. Get the fuck out.”
“Lansing,” my voice squeaked. “Let me explain.”
“I’ve heard enough.”
“You haven’t…”
“I said. Get. The. Fuck. Out. Now.” His voice was rising to almost yelling.
As if on queue, his front door opened and in walked a jovial Will Galehaut, until he saw Lansing holding my wrist. As much as he was yelling for me to get out, he hadn’t let go of my arm. I was bent over as he had tugged me forward in his emphasis.
“Your Grace?” Galehaut’s concerned voice forced Lansing to release me. I stood upright, rubbing my wrist, holding it against my chest. Lansing looked away from me immediately, his eyes returning to stare at my computer screen.
“What’s going on here, family?” Will tried to break the tension that was as apparent as the couch Lansing sat on. He had taken to calling us ‘family,’ when he was around Lansing, Fleur and me. At first, I didn’t like it when Will continued to tease us about playing house, but over time, I got used to his jests and taunted him back. There was no joking involved at that moment. Family time was over. Playing house had been just that, a farce. Lansing Lotte was no more my family than the family I still had remaining in my life. He was more distant, than my mother in Florida, at the moment. There was no bringing him back to the man on the couch from half an hour ago.
“Lila was just leaving,” Lansing’s bitter voice said.
“Lansing?” Galehaut questioned, as he drew closer to the couch to sit next to his friend. His eyes wandered to the computer screen and he stared for a long moment before he looked up at me.
“Did you take these?”
“No,” I said adamantly.
Galehaut held my gaze as Lansing spoke.
“She’s lying.”
There was a moment of heavy silence before Lansing spoke again.
“Why? Why would you do it?”
“I didn’t…” But I had to stop myself. He wasn’t listening to me. Anything further I was about to say would only drive a wedge deeper between us. Suddenly, I was reminded of what I had known all along. There was never going to be a joining of Lansing Lotte and me. He was a rock star, and I was a photographer. He had been everything I’d known I didn’t want, and somehow I had learned that he was everything I needed. And now, I would have nothing. Again.
Galehaut’s eyes continued to question me, even though I had stopped speaking. Lansing had his hands in his hair, holding his face shielded from me.
“The first shots were taken so I could pay for Fleur’s dance lessons.”
A deep sigh of relief escaped me as my final secret was revealed.
Lansing jumped up and was immediately in my space.
“You fu…”
“Lansing,” Galehaut demanded. “Don’t say anything you’ll regret.”
“The only regret I have this moment is taking her in,” he said directly to my face. His eyes pierced me with their fiery hatred.
“I’m grateful for everything you did for me,” I said weakly. My gratitude paled in comparison to his spiteful attitude at the moment.
“It was nothing more than hero worship,” he grumbled.
“What?”
“You gave into me because you had hero worship. Rock star eyes. Savior attraction…Were you…were you spying on me? Did you take photographs of me?”
“That’s enough, Lansing,” Galehaut warned from behind Lansing, whose negative energy was rolling off him like the flames of the building fire. He was burning me at the stake with his accusations of falling for him because he had saved Fleur and me. He knew how I felt about Josh Tucker originally. Hero. Fangirl. And he was throwing it in my face. Slapping me might have felt better.
I took a deep breath to keep control.
“You've been nothing but kind to me, until you said that. That was the meanest thing you could say to me.”
“Mean? You haven’t seen mean, Lila.”
“Enough,” Galehaut threatened. He was right. I’d had enough. I turned away from Lansing Lotte, knowing I would never see him again.
I was so piss drunk I couldn’t recall when Lila left. Days later, the apartment felt empty, but Lila still lingered everywhere. The kitchen held child sized dishes and cups she’d bought for Fleur. The bathroom in the guest room still had shampoo in the shower and a bottle of her flowery lotion on the sink. The bedroom still smelled of her scent. I knew that because I had been sleeping in the bed. Her bed. The first night after she left I found myself in the room, inhaling her pillow, and then shamefully, I inhaled Fleur’s for her sweet strawberry fragrance. I missed her. I missed them both.
I also hated Lila. There was no excuse in the world for me that would explain taking the pictures of a celebrity without their consent. And nothing forgave chasing them down to the point of death, even if the truth was Arturo wasn’t dead. My mind wandered aimlessly over how Lila could take such pictures, knowing that Arturo had suffered. How she could stand there and photograph such a scene. Memorialize it. Sensationalize it for the whole world.
I punched the pillow for the thousandth time, and then smothered it with my face to inhale her floral fragrance. God damn her.
I didn’t know where she went. She left without a word, although in hindsight, I didn’t want to hear her words. Lies. All lies. And for what? Money? Fame? It was such a conflict with what I knew of Lila. She tried to stay out of the limelight. She told me she avoided concerts, venues of music and any other spot she might run into Josh Tucker or any member of the Dark Agents. She didn’t want Josh to know any details about Fleur, which I questioned when I asked her why she lived right in the city. She explained it was almost too easy to notice someone right under your nose. She told me Josh knew of Fleur, but had never met her. He was aware that Sara had died, but he hadn’t tried to claim his daughter. He relinquished all rights when she was born, despite his name being on the birth certificate.
At times, I felt I couldn’t trust what she had said. Any of it. But Lila had been relatively straightforward about a lot of things. She had wanted me to ask Elaine to marry me. She understood my tormented grief over Layne as a girl I didn’t love, and for the girl I thought I had, Guinevere. Lila knew all my secrets, which angered me further and concerned me that she was here to get an exclusive. Then I reminded myself that I had offered for Lila to live here and she had been here for months. There hadn’t been anything about me in the news.
I shot up off the bed and did something I rarely did. I googled myself.
There it was. The image of Guinevere and I in Central Park as I held Fleur’s hand. I always wondered how someone knew that I was at the park, at that exact moment with Fleur, or talking to Guinevere. Then, I understood. Lila had taken that picture. I was certain of it and she shared it with the Internet. I almost threw my laptop across the room, until I decided to google Lila Lovelourne.
There were several images of seventeen-year-old Lila with Josh Tucker. She looked young compared to her now twenty something age. She was hot then, but she was gorgeous in the present. She was one of those rare women who grew more beautiful with time. Other photographs appeared of her sister, who I imagined Fleur would one day look exa
ctly like. Long dark hair and unique dark eyes; she was a beauty as well, in a totally different way from her blonde sister. Either girl looked good on the arm of Josh Tucker, which is exactly what most of the images were: one Lovelourne or the other under his arm.
There was one strange shot of Lila after the fire. She was standing in front of me, so it was only a partial image, but I recognized the location. We were outside Dolores Guard, in front of the ambulance and Lila had on my jacket. She was facing me and there were three shots. Her looking at me. Her kissing my cheek. And me embracing both her and Fleur. An article was linked to the photo questioning who was the woman and who was the child. I ruled out fame again for Lila. She hid behind me that day, clearly not wanting the limelight to shine on her.
I argued against myself that if she got caught taking those negative photos of Arturo, she wouldn’t want it publicized. Exposing her would ruin her credibility as a photographer. She wouldn’t earn money, which I was convinced was a rather large sum. Money would have explained the elegant apartment location, or the college tuition, or the high-end camera, except I knew all the answers as to how she got those things. I was on a roller coaster of emotion as I worked myself up with excuses, and then calmed myself down with reasons. I would eventually wear myself out as the alcohol took over my brain and shut me down. The only problem sleeping in a drunken state was I’d dream. They were always filled with Lila.
I was visibly shaking as I threw everything I could grab into bags to leave Lansing’s apartment. Fleur watched with wide eyes before I yelled at her to begin picking up her toys and telling her to put them in her school backpack. She did as she was told silently. I was frightening her. I was frightened myself.
Lansing clearly did not want to hear my explanation. The one question he’d have was why didn’t I tell him sooner. To be honest, I didn’t have an answer. How could I explain that I had spent so much time telling myself that he wasn’t what I wanted, I figured it wouldn’t matter. Then when I discovered that he was everything I might ever want, I just didn’t know how to tell him of my guilt.
When I first moved in with him, I thought it would be short term. Lansing had so many issues; it didn’t seem to matter who took the pictures. The truth was already out there. The accident. The disappearance. We knew that Arturo was alive, but where he had been was still a mystery. None of it should have mattered to me. It wasn’t my concern, but Lansing had become my concern. I cared about him, and I cursed myself because I knew I shouldn’t have. Time and again, he proved me wrong about many things. If I looked at the core of his story: pregnant girl, dead girl, affair with best friend’s girl, he was a terrible person. But when I considered that he ran into a burning building to save Fleur, that he took me in when I had nowhere to go, and he did casual generous things like giving me a new camera, I couldn’t reconcile the two parts of Lansing Lotte together. He was a man, not a hero, and I couldn’t fault him for making mistakes. I had made too many myself.
When I exited my room at Lansing’s, I was surprised that Lansing and Will were both absent, but Will wasn’t far. He stood outside Lansing’s apartment, concerned for his best friend.
“What did you do?” he questioned. He wasn’t accusing me of anything. I sighed with relief that he might actually listen to me.
“I didn’t tell him about the pictures. That I knew about them. That I knew who took them.”
Galehaut closed his eyes briefly, then opened them to blast with more pity than I deserved.
“Please tell me you didn’t take those horrific pictures?”
“I didn’t take those horrific pictures.”
“But…“
“I took the first ones. The before.”
“How?”
I took a deep breath and began my story.
“I had been asked to take photos at the WomenFirst Fundraiser. I’d been inside for a bit, but it was so stuffy I went outside for some air. I was drawn over to a guy on a motorcycle that I recognized immediately as another photographer friend. He took edgier pictures than I did. More daring ones and he was curious about the event. So many bands all together in one place was a gold mine of celebrities. I typically tried to avoid concert events, but the pay was too good to pass up.
As we stood in the alley, another motorcycle approached. That man said he was there to find a girl. I laughed. The whole event was full of women, both those who were fans and those who were guests.
I didn’t know him, and I told the police that when they questioned me later. I’d never seen him before and I haven’t seen him since. My friend, Mick, and this guy got to talking and the next thing I knew they had a friendly wager going. Perkins Vale burst out the back door of The Round Table with a dark haired girl. It was dark in the alley, so it was hard to make out her features, but the other cyclist was convinced she was the woman he was looking for. When Arturo came through the door shortly afterward, everything happened in slow motion.
Mick yelled for me to hop on and we took off after Arturo and Perk on their bikes.”
I was breathing heavily as I recalled the race through narrow alleys and city streets. It was exhilarating and scary as hell. I was trying to balance my camera and hold onto Mick as we flew, until he told me to try to get the shots. He said he knew I’d be paid well for this chase scene with Arturo. It fit his dangerous, bad boy image. Although, I felt that chivalrous lover image was dissipating as his engagement announcement made the headlines.
“Mick asked me to get a shot or two of the chase. When we lost Perk, the other guy doubled back to follow him. He was after the girl. We only took another shot or two when Mick veered off to the left and I noticed the other biker return. We kept going south on Park Avenue and I’ll admit I never looked back.”
“How are there other photos?” Galehaut asked in a tender voice for someone so large.
“I could only assume they were reporter shots. Scene of the crime images. Somehow, the two sets got linked together on the Internet. I’m assuming the photographer who took those shots is part of the same online indie photographer group I’m in. When I downloaded the images for sale that night, he must have downloaded his. Key words linked the two together.”
“You mentioned police?” Will questioned.
“I went to the police the next day. I was worried that with the connection online, this very thing would happen.”
“What thing?”
“Someone would think I took the photos, caused the accident, and then took more photos.”
“Right now, it really doesn’t matter what someone thinks, unless that someone is Lansing Lotte. He’ll have trouble processing this, Lila. He trusted you. He thought you were his friend.”
“I am his friend.”
“No, you weren’t,” Will said, in a voice that showed his exasperation. “He’s suffered a lot these past few months. No one loves him more than me, but even I know that he doesn’t always think clearly when it comes to women. He doesn’t see the reality of what’s in front of him.”
I looked up at Will, puzzled.
He continued. “He’s fallen for you, he just doesn’t know it, yet.”
“That will never happen,” I mumbled bitterly.
He paused to look at me.
“Furthermore, you’ve fallen for him. Haven’t you?”
“It doesn’t matter.”
“Do you want it to matter?”
“I…” I couldn’t answer Will. My feelings were too raw. If Lansing couldn’t listen to me, what would be the point of being with him? I shouldn’t have been with Lansing Lotte, in the first place. I took that moment as a sign that we weren’t meant to be. History could not rewrite itself. He would always blame me; I would always feel at fault.
“I know better than to fall for a rock star.”
Elaine and I had already had a doctor’s appointment on that horrible day I discovered the pictures of Arturo on Lila’s computer. We had a second appointment for an ultrasound a week later. I wasn’t sure what the exam did, ot
her than somehow take a picture of the baby inside Elaine’s stomach. We didn’t speak much other than small talk. My thoughts were too preoccupied with Lila to concentrate on anything more than questions about Christmas that involved one word replies.
Was I going to Lake Avalon for Christmas? No.
Was I going to see Vivian for Christmas? No.
Was I going to see Guinevere?
“Why does everyone keep asking me?”
“Well, it’s obvious you have a thing for her. Now with Arturo missing, it seems like the perfect time to move in on his girl,” Elaine said bitterly.
“That would make me a terrible person, if I moved in on my best friend’s fiancée,” I defended.
“Yes it would, but sometimes people act desperate when they are in love.”
I stared at Elaine. She knew what she was talking about. She had been disillusioned about her infatuation with me. She certainly took advantage of the situation, which was why we were sitting in a waiting room full of pregnant women.
I couldn’t argue with Elaine, though. I had been desperate myself and had given into my desire.
Elaine’s name was called and I followed her. I exited the room when the nurse told her to change, but I returned moments later to find Elaine in a hospital gown, on her back on the exam table. The room was dimly lit and a technician entered a few minutes later. Squirting gel on Elaine’s stomach, the woman moved a strange looking wand around on Elaine’s still small bump, until she must have found what she was looking for. She turned a knob on her machine and moved the grainy computer screen, so Elaine and I could have a better look.
A strange sound filled the room.
Whamp. Whamp. Whamp. Whamp.
