Chapter 28
Michael
She was going to end me. Even if the thing with that picture—and who knew how many more—blew over tomorrow, she was trouble. I’d known that from the start and had continued as if she wore a costume that could be peeled off, as if she was acting. But she wasn’t, not a bit. Her hurt was real and disquieting.
I could get out of it. Having said too much, too soon and having made little promises I couldn’t keep, I could still get out of it. Save her and me a lot of trouble. It was better that way, really. I’d existed before I knew her, and I could exist after. Over time, we’d go back to the way we were, with her hidden behind a camera and me hidden in front of them. I’d stop being a magnet for her past, and she’d move on safely.
Excusing myself from her life was the only sensible thing to do.
“Laine,” I said so low I could barely hear myself.
“Yeah?”
“How many pictures are there?”
“A roll. Thirty-six.”
I looked at her for the first time since she’d mentioned a nostalgia screw. Her chin was an eighth of an inch higher, and her mouth was set tight.
“A roll?” I asked.
“Negative film and paper. Tom was learning. He left his camera, and the guys thought it would be funny to leave him a present.”
“It’s not funny.”
“Tom didn’t think so either. He said he threw up when he developed them, then he made me look at them. It was awful. But it doesn’t matter how many, does it? One or a hundred, how many will it take to ruin your life?”
She was so guarded. She was braced to take a blow and beautiful in that. I was sure I could let her down easy and never see her cry over it. I’d walk away without a drop of guilt, only an ocean of regret.
Once I saw her tears fall and heard her admissions, her shame, and her self-blame, the idea that I could leave her was a distraction. She could take care of herself, but I didn’t want her to. I wanted to take care of her. I wanted to be that man who was more to her, the one who treated her like the jewel she was. I wanted to be the one to protect her.
I touched her cheek. She pulled back a hair, still girded, her hand on my arm as if she wanted to draw it down. I slipped my fingers to the back of her head and pulled her toward me.
“Michael, really, I—”
I put my weight into it and kissed her because I had to. Her face knotted then relaxed, and she kissed me back.
I was unqualified to save her. My black eye proved it. But I was also unable to abandon her, because I wanted her with every cell in my body. I admired her strength, her dignity, her very spirit. She’d broken free of her situation through sheer tenacity and effort. The only care I had about her past was how to release her from its effect on her present and future.
She was no whore. She was a queen.
The seat vibrated. She pulled away and went for her phone, but I got it first. She grabbed for it, but I pulled it back. It was a call, not a picture, and it was from an unknown number.
“Stop,” she said.
I answered it. “Hello?”
“Who is this?” Male voice.
“Laine’s phone.”
“Where’s she at?”
Laine looked as if she was going to explode. I put my finger to my lips, and she flipped me the bird. I was crazy about her. I had no reason not to be.
“She’s indisposed,” I said.
“What the fuck kind of word is that? Hey, wait. I know that voice. Man, are you that actor? ’Cos I will beat your ass.”
“How much do you want, Jake?” I asked.
Laine pressed her knees together and put her forehead on them. I rubbed her back.
“Foo!” Jake said into the room, away from the phone. “It’s the guy whose face you busted! He wants to know how much!”
I couldn’t hear what Foo said. I just stroked Laine’s hair.
Jake got back on the phone. “I’ll text you a number, bitch. What the fuck happened in Dead Lawyers? That explosion was—”
“I need a place and time, Jake. Thirty-six prints and negatives.”
“Test prints,” Laine said between her knees. “Tom did six test prints. I have one. So five more.”
“Five test prints,” I said. “If you can add, that’s forty-one prints. Thirty-six negatives.”
The moment of silence following concerned me, but then Jake said in a low, conspiratorial voice, “Hey, I know why you’re doing this. She sucks dick like a fucking champ. I taught her that. You’re welcome.”
I hung up. I didn’t want to hear another word, and he and I were done with business. And the personal part? I wasn’t in a position to kill him and get away with it. I hit the intercom behind the seat. “Pull over, Gali.”
“I’m going to die,” Laine said.
“Not tonight.”
She sat up straight, her face red from being in crash position. “I can take care of this.”
“Let me do it. I want to. I need to know you’re not going to see him.”
The car came to a stop on a side street.
“How am I supposed to not worry about you?” she asked.
“Don’t. Look around. Tell me if we were followed.”
She peered out all the windows, leaning over me to see out mine. I couldn’t help but touch her when she was near me.
“Looks clear.”
I kissed her just as her phone vibrated in my hand. She tried to look, but I kept the screen away. A number and an address. Perfect.
“Stay here for five minutes.” I got out of the car.
As soon as I closed the door, Carlos got out of the passenger side. The street was residential and unpopulated in the moonlight. Even two blocks away from Hollywood Boulevard, the crickets made a racket.
“I have a thing for you tonight,” I said. “I need you to pick up some cash from my business manager and make an exchange out in Venice Beach.”
“An exchange?”
“Double rate. And you should be carrying.”
“I don’t do nothing illegal. It’s in my contract,” Carlos said.
“It’s not illegal. It’s not drugs. It’s pictures. Forty-one of them. And thirty-six negatives. I need you to count, and do it without looking at them, as much as you can.”
He looked as if he was suspicious but agreed when I gave him my word. I called my business manager, connected the dots quickly, and got back into the limo. At least this one thing would be put to bed once and for all.