Читать книгу I Thee Bed... - Jule McBride, Jule Mcbride - Страница 7

“ALL RISE!”

“Whatever happens this time,” Ches Edmond whispered, coaching his client, “keep your cool, Jimmy.” As his eyes met those of the man beside him, the shared gaze held countless memories—everything from downing too many cold brewskies on fishing trips, to fighting over the same head cheerleader, to their last year of playing football together at a high school outside Cleveland. A few months after taking the team to the state finals, they’d packed their bags and moved to the Big Apple to share an East Village sublet that Jimmy had found over the Internet.

Ches added, “Judge Diana once wrote a book titled The Wrongdoers.”

Exhaling a long-suffering sigh, Jimmy Delaney whispered, “You’re kidding me, right?”

“Nope. Hit the stands a year ago last spring.”

“And you didn’t tell me before now?”

Ches shrugged, a two-thousand-dollar suit pulling snugly across shoulders so powerful that it looked as if he was wearing the pads from his high-school ball-playing uniform. “Did you really want to know?”

“Guess not,” agreed Jimmy as he rose slowly, fighting the urge to loosen the knot of a suffocating tie, a red, white and blue monstrosity he’d bought for his parents’ fortieth wedding anniversary which, had luckily fallen on July fourth, and which Jimmy now hoped would communicate his sense of patriotism to the judge.

“She’s also thinking about running for public office,” Ches added.

Jimmy considered. “Republican?”

“Having written The Wrongdoers? What do you think?”

“And for our purpose that means?”

“The harsher the sentence, the better.”

“Swell,” muttered Jimmy dryly. From behind him, he could feel the eyes of his other buddies, celebrity photographers who hung around The Suds Bar on Avenue A in the East Village—Benny, Alex and Tim—burning a space between his shoulders. Glancing behind himself, Jimmy rolled his eyes, showing he wasn’t about to be cowed by a judge in a skirt and was pleased when he got supportive grins and a thumbs-up in response.

His spirits lifted further when he glanced at Ches again and remembered their public-speaking class in high school. The teacher, Mrs. Hepplewhite, had always said that, when nervous, you should imagine your audience naked. Easy enough in this case, Jimmy thought. Judge Diana Little might have been nearing fifty, but she took good care of herself. She had beautiful skin, and her tawny blond hair was flattering, cut to shoulder length. Even the square, black-framed glasses perched midway down her nose were kind of sexy, Jimmy decided, as he slowly, mentally removed her black robe.

Her voice, unfortunately, was hardly of the sex-kitten variety. “Mr. Delaney?”

He raised his eyebrows. “Yes, ma’am?”

“Before I sentence you, could you do me a favor?”

“Anything, ma’am. Just ask.”

She sent him a quick, close-mouthed wince that was meant to be a smile. “Wipe the smirk off your face.”

He should have realized Judge Diana would say something such as that. “Sorry,” he muttered.

“I’m sure I’ll live, Mr. Delaney,” she returned curtly.

Ches whispered, “This doesn’t bode well.”

Judge Diana heaved a sigh, her lightly glossed lips pursing in displeasure. “And does counsel have something to say?”

“No, Judge,” Ches assured.

Nodding, she stared at the top of her massive desk, her eyes roving over the contents of a three-inch-thick manila file. Very slowly, she tapped a paper with the long, slender finger of a perfectly manicured hand, causing Jimmy to bite back a sigh. Obviously, Judge Diana was going to draw out his sentencing, just to watch him squirm.

Or maybe she’d realize he’d done nothing wrong and go easy on him. He was half tempted to start speaking in his own defense; maybe if he hadn’t trusted Ches’s advice so much, he’d have done so already. But Ches was one of the best trial lawyers in New York City, so well-known that, if he hadn’t been a friend, Jimmy wouldn’t have gotten any further than a call to his assistant; despite being well employed, himself, Jimmy wouldn’t have been able to afford Ches’s rates, either.

Now he thanked his lucky stars for having such a talented buddy. Not only had they moved from Ohio together and finished college at NYU the same term, but Ches had gone on to law school, then made a name for himself as a defense attorney. On the first day of classes at NYU Law, he’d met a woman who was as sexy as she was brainy, and now Ches and Elsa were in their third year of married life; she’d given him two babies while joining a firm herself. The youngest child, Conner, was only three months old, but just like his older brother, Clay, he was showing signs of becoming a football star, at least as near as Jimmy and Ches could tell, even if Elsa often begged to differ.

Pushing aside the thoughts, Jimmy concentrated on Judge Diana again, wondering what was going to happen next. Ches had said it was unlikely, but Jimmy could wind up doing jail time. Jimmy sure hoped not. He glanced around. The benches in the high-ceilinged courtroom were nearly empty of people, and the place felt cavernous and smelled musty. In the silence, he could hear the ominous crackle of papers, and for the first time, he began to worry that things were about to plummet southward. Even if the sentence was harsh, Ches had said it wouldn’t matter, since they’d win on appeal, but Jimmy didn’t exactly relish the thought of wearing a striped uniform under any circumstances.

Regarding his legal battles, he’d long ago decided to turn his will and his life over to the care of Ches, and so, until now, he’d refused to sweat this case. It wasn’t his first. Jimmy’s talent was for taking pictures. From the earliest age, he’d shown a knack for color and composition, and for discovering photogenic quality in just about any subject. He could take the most seemingly homely girl in the world and make her look intriguing beyond compare. And it wasn’t a trick. He’d simply been given a gift for capturing the souls of even the most elusive people. Time after time, he’d snap the shutter in the split second when a person’s deepest emotions surfaced, and what might have been seen as ugly was infused with new depth. His was a talent that had brought critical acclaim when he’d first started working, and later far more than the average wage usually made by photographers.

As Judge Diana held up a copy of the New York Post, Jimmy braced himself for whatever sentence was to come, but she merely said, “You took this?”

He surveyed a black-and-white zoom shot of hotel heiress, Julia Darden, who’d been on the deck of a yacht sailing off the Chelsea Piers in the West Twenties. She and her fiancé, Lorenzo Santini, were wrapped in a sheet, kissing deeply, in a suggestive enough pose that any viewer would assume they were making love.

He nodded. “Yes, I did.”

“And you sold it to the tabloids?”

Obviously. He tried not to balk. He was a photographer, after all. And that meant he sold his pictures. “Yes, ma’am.”

“Although you knew there was an order of protection against you?”

“I was outside the court-ordered range of distance, Judge.”

“A simple yes or no will do.”

He sighed. “Yes. I knew there was an order.”

“And not the first one Julia Darden has filed against you?”

He shook his head. “No.”

“Would you want people taking pictures of you such as this?”

Jimmy should be so lucky to find himself wrapped in a sheet, in the arms of a woman as gorgeous as Julia Darden. “I wouldn’t mind in the least.”

“How many orders of protection have there been?”

Honestly, he wasn’t sure, so he glanced at Ches as he said, “Six or seven over the past few years. Most since she announced her wedding six months ago.”

“Eleven,” corrected the judge.

When she ducked her head once more and continued perusing his file, Jimmy’s annoyance intensified. So maybe there had been eleven orders of protection, but Ches said he really hadn’t done anything illegal, only unconventional, and with Julia Darden’s wedding taking place in a couple of weeks, on April first, Jimmy could hardly afford to be in jail during the event. One picture of Julia and Lorenzo’s kiss at the altar would buy him the West Village Co-op he’d been eyeing for the past year. Besides, only Celebrity Weddings magazine was to have access to the event, which meant getting inside would provide just the kind of challenge that Jimmy lived for.

Just thinking of the wedding, he almost smiled. Leave it to Julia Darden to name April Fools’ Day for her nuptials. She definitely had a sense of humor. It was rumored that she hadn’t even really wanted a ring, but only the pop-can tab with which Lorenzo had proposed, and which she now wore around her neck. She was as beautiful as she was funny, with straight brown hair, brown eyes and a wide smile, and yet, she was more than just beautiful. She had a quality Jimmy had been able to capture repeatedly on film, a projected air of having been completely well loved during all her twenty-seven years. Any hurt she might have experienced seemed to have rolled off her back, which was why she’d become one of Jimmy’s—and all of America’s—favorite tabloid subjects.

Her father, spry, silver-haired widower, Sparky Darden, was a character in his own right. Sixty-seven and diagnosed with cancer that had gone into remission, he was in semiretirement, enjoying an estate in Long Island where Julia’s wedding was to take place. He’d spent his life building the Darden hotel empire, but he’d also spent much time doting on his daughter, giving her the life of a fairy princess, a fact that always shone through the features of her face and that, despite her aversion to cameras and publicity, had made her America’s darling. Her sport star husband-to-be was no slouch, either.

But it was photographs of Julia that commanded the highest pay at the tabloids. Because she always tried to avoid publicity, Jimmy didn’t understand how Emma Goldstein at Celebrity Weddings magazine had gotten exclusive rights to shoot the wedding. It was shocking that Julia would let anyone with a camera, much less a mainstream celebrity magazine, near the wedding, and now, despite the order of protection, Jimmy still wanted to get in the door. He was well-known among paparazzi for the inventive tactics and disguises he used to get close to subjects, but so far, Julia Darden’s wedding was providing new challenges, almost daily.

It had all started last October, almost six months ago, when the wedding was first announced. Ever since, Jimmy had managed to scoop Celebrity Weddings by publishing shots of preparations in the tabloids, something that had brought him into contact, however anonymously, with the Benning family. As it had turned out, Julia Darden’s father, because of a past association with a man named Joe Benning, had hired Joe’s daughter, Edie, as Julia’s wedding planner, and Edie, prompted by Celebrity Weddings, had agreed to appear on a reality television show called Rate the Dates a couple months ago….

Jimmy had gone undercover as a videographer for Rate the Dates, padding his clothes, wearing a beard and calling himself Vinny Marcel. While shooting footage of Edie Benning and her date-mate, and hoping to use the ruse to get closer to Julia, he’d wound up with more of a scoop than he’d expected. As it turned out, the woman on the reality show wasn’t Edie Benning after all, but rather, her twin sister, Marley, and now—assuming he wasn’t going to jail—Jimmy had to come up with another game plan for getting close to Edie.

He wouldn’t mind in the least. When he’d first seen the identical twin sisters together, he’d been able to tell them apart immediately. The women were identical, yes. And yet, there was something so different about their essence. Both were about five foot five. Both had worn their feathered blond hair blown straight, and both had blue eyes the color of robins’ eggs on a foggy morning.

But it was Edie, not Marley, to whom he’d responded. The pull on Jimmy’s body had been strangely magnetic. Unforgettable, visceral, primal. He didn’t want to get to know Edie, to take her on a date, or impress her with his credentials or expertise, or even watch her eyes light up with pleasure. No…he’d awakened from dreams about her and caught himself fantasizing about loving her—quickly undressing her, stripping down her stockings, pulling down her skirt, unbuttoning the delicate blouses she favored. He could see himself pushing silk from her shoulders, exposing a white bra, the lace of which was worrying taut pink nipples that the fabric barely covered…

He suddenly blinked. Dammit, Judge Diana was staring at him, and she gave the impression she’d been doing so for some time. “Yes?” he managed.

“Did you hear a word I said, Mr. Delaney?”

With her dark eyes scrutinizing him, Jimmy decided it was probably better not to lie. “No. I’m sorry.”

“Is your own sentencing boring you?”

He shook his head.

She sighed. “For your inattention alone, I should send you to Riker’s Island.”

Riker’s Island? Ches had indicated that if Jimmy received a jail term, it would be in some cushy place for white-collar criminals. He felt Ches’s hand close over his forearm, as if Ches feared Jimmy might suddenly lunge past the judge and run for freedom.

Judge Diana was eyeing him again. Using an index finger, she pushed the black-framed glasses toward the bridge of her very straight, patrician nose. “I see you studied fine art before you went into your current occupation.”

What did that have to do with anything? “I was an art photographer, yes.”

“And now you’re pretty merciless, aren’t you, Mr. Delaney? You dress in disguises, which makes it difficult to catch you in the act while you peep in windows and the like?”

“Not exactly how I’d put it.” He wanted to add, “I’ve forgone many of the usual life pleasures, just to bring the American public the kind of pictures it most loves.” Instead, he said, “I’m going to honor the order of protection, Judge.” The truth was, he’d already done so, and she knew it, but the Darden’s security staff and legal team were turning up the heat as the wedding day neared, hoping to keep Jimmy away from Julia. They’d even insinuated he’d chased a Darden limousine, trying to get a shot of Julia, and that the car had swerved dangerously, but that was a blatant lie.

Yes he’d honored the order of protection, so far, but the Darden’s security team was starting to pose just the kind of challenge Jimmy relished. After all, he’d done the right thing, only to be punished. Besides, he did want pictures of the wedding. Celebrity Weddings magazine had an exclusive, but if anybody else could get in to shoot pictures, it would be Jimmy. Suddenly, a plan began to form in his mind. Surely, there was a way to get inside the Darden estate….

Only the pounding of the gavel brought his attention back to the judge. “All and all, Mr. Delaney,” she said, “I think you’ll find my sentence of community service fair. You will, of course, adhere to all existent orders of protection against you. That goes without saying. In addition, beginning tomorrow at the Little Red Schoolhouse on Bleeker and Sixth Avenue, from nine o’clock until noon, and for the next six weeks, you’ll meet with the shutterbugs.”

Community service? What was she talking about? Pictures he’d taken of Kiefer Sutherland picking up trash along the L.A. freeway shot through his mind. Surely, he wasn’t going to be wearing orange and cleaning public parks. Then the word registered. “Shutterbugs?”

Judge Diana nodded. “My juvie offenders. Believe me, I’ve got a bunch. This morning, an officer told me his evidence room is overflowing with camera equipment that can’t be returned which was why he couldn’t find some drug money for three months after he’d confiscated it. This should kill three birds with a stone.”

“Three birds?” muttered Ches.

She nodded. “The officer, the kids and Mr. Delaney.”

“Juvie offenders?” Jimmy managed. He’d been a lone child, and the only kids he knew lately were Ches and Elsa’s sons, and they weren’t even old enough to call him “Uncle Jimmy” yet. “I’m sorry, Judge, but I don’t know how to teach—”

An elbow to the gut nearly took away his breath. Judge Diana, who’d seemed to catch the action, smiled. “I see your attorney, uh…” She paused, her smile broadening. “Gets the picture.”

A second later, Jimmy was blinded by a series of white flashes, and in the next heartbeat, he realized his own buddies had circled to the front of the courtroom to snap his slack-jawed expression. Already, he could see the picture in the Post or the Daily News. The text would read something like, From Julia to Juvies. Didn’t these guys care that selling such a photo would publicize his face, making him that much easier to spot, endangering his ability to work? “With friends like these,” he muttered, “who needs enemies?”

And then thankfully, Judge Diana saved Jimmy’s day by saying, “Bailiff, please confiscate all the cameras.”

“THIS WEEK, YOUR ASSIGNMENT is to shoot two rolls of film, then next week, we’ll start learning how to develop them in the darkroom here at the school. Are there any more questions about the basic operation of the cameras?”

The fifteen kids, ranging in age from ten to fifteen, shook their heads, and eleven-year-old Melissa Jones shuddered with pleasure. Every time she’d looked at her hero during the past three hours, she’d almost swooned. She loved tabloids, as well as watching shows like Entertainment Tonight, so she was completely familiar with Jimmy Delaney’s work, not to mention a super-fan. She’d never have expected him to be such a hunk, though. He was so supercute. Supercool, too. Even the tougher, older kids weren’t giving him a hard time. She raised her hand again, just so he’d notice her. “Do we get to take the camera home today, Mr. Delaney?”

“Yes. Like I said, you’re supposed to take pictures this week, okay? And you can’t do that unless you take the cameras. But don’t forget to be careful with the equipment. It’s the property of the state.”

“Yo, bro,” said a kid in front of her to one of his friends. “That means we don’t hawk them on Canal Street.”

“That’s right,” agreed Jimmy. “But Chinatown would be a great place to take pictures.” After turning to write a number on the blackboard, he began going from desk to desk, to double-check cameras and film. “That’s my number on the board. Call me at home if you have questions.”

His home number! Very carefully, Melissa copied it into her pink notebook, feeling her hands getting sweatier as he neared her desk. Setting down her pencil with shaking fingers, she slicked her palms down the sides of her jeans, shuddered, then smoothed her dark hair away from her face.

Jimmy’s straight fine jet-black hair was cut very short, and even though he’d slicked it back, it stuck almost straight up, just the way Matt Damon and Ben Affleck wore theirs. He had a very square jaw, dark, liquid eyes, and a tiny dot of a mole beside his mouth.

Supersexy, Melissa thought. Yes, if she had realized that being a criminal would help her meet Jimmy Delaney, she’d have started shoplifting and maxing out her mother’s credit cards on catalog shopping way back in the first grade. Suddenly, sadness twisted inside her as her mind flashed on her last arrest in Bloomingdale’s. Her parents had looked so devastated. That was the word her mother had kept using—devastated.

But could Melissa help it if she was bored? And if her parents were always so mad at her?

“We’ve given you everything!” her mother had exclaimed between sobs, after she’d spoken with the security staff and watched her daughter on the videotape, stealing a pair of men’s leather gloves. Her father, who had been a lot less kind, had said Melissa could, “forget about taking any time-outs.” Both her parents had said she was a selfish girl, but Melissa didn’t understand how they could have arrived at that. She always gave money to Jack Stevens, the homeless man who slept over the grate beneath the fire escape below her apartment. And the gloves had been for him.

Jack didn’t really seem homeless, anyway. Since he was the first street person to whom Melissa had ever spoken, she’d been very surprised and had completely revised her opinion about homelessness. He’d once had a really nice apartment uptown, but after he’d lost his job, his wife had left, which was bad timing because it turned out his son needed an operation, and the insurance had lapsed, which meant the medical expenses had wiped Jack out financially. His son was better now, but he was with Jack’s wife, and Jack missed them both so much that he’d started drinking, which had made things go from bad to worse. Now, Jack really thought he could turn things around if he could get into a rehab center, but treatment would cost several thousand dollars.

See? Melissa fumed. She knew all about Jack’s life! Didn’t that show she was unselfish? She had what people called empathy, too. She definitely understood Jack’s financial crunch. While her mother said Melissa had been given everything, it wasn’t really true. Melissa wanted a horse, for instance, and she could easily relate that to Jack’s feelings about his son.

She’d wanted a horse for over a year, ever since she’d seen the movie, Black Beauty, and when she’d asked, her father had said, “Maybe.” Later, he’d gone on to say that it was more complex than just getting a horse, since they lived in New York City and would need to board it. When Melissa had suggested they move to Wyoming, her father had just laughed at her.

Well, she’d show him! Opening the back of her camera, she slowly inserted the film just as Jimmy had illustrated for the class. The key to success in business was filling a niche. She’d heard her father say it a thousand times. And now, with Jimmy Delaney gone from the paparazzi business, there was a niche to fill. Since Melissa’s dad had been a linebacker for the NFL before retiring and becoming a sportscaster for a network, Melissa could get access to TV studios. The network even had an after-school program that Melissa had previously refused to attend.

Who could shoot celebrities more easily than a kid, after all? Adults never noticed kids. Melissa couldn’t believe she hadn’t thought of this before. If she wanted to do so, she could even get supersexy pictures in the girls’ dressing rooms. If everything went as planned, she could sell the pictures, earn enough money to buy a horse, and then she wouldn’t even be tempted to steal in the future.

Not that Jimmy was directly suggesting the kids should go into his line of work. But he’d chosen it, hadn’t he? And that meant he’d decided it was a good job. Now, all Melissa had to do was convince Jack Stevens to help her sell the pictures she took. She’d need a grown-up to do things such as open a bank account. She could almost see the beautiful black stallion she was going to buy, and maybe…

Jimmy Delaney paused beside her desk. “What kind of pictures do you want to shoot this week, Melissa?”

When he leaned down, close to her desk, Melissa could smell a faint tinge of soap and aftershave lotion. She wanted to tell him he was so beautiful that he could be a movie star, but she only sent him a huge smile. “Close-up shots of flowers mostly,” she said sweetly. “Maybe you can teach me how to make them look soft and fuzzy,” she continued, trying to make her voice sound breathless. “The way they do in the art magazines.” She paused. “How much money do you make when you sell things to the Post?”

His eyes widened. “When class began, I said I wasn’t going to talk about that,” he said, leaning even closer.

Her dark eyes locked with his. “Ballpark?”

For a moment, he was still, then his shoulders started shaking and he laughed. “Soft and fuzzy flowers,” he repeated. “I’ll be happy to give you some pointers on that, Melissa.”

Melissa. She blew out a slow, shivery breath, barely able to believe that Jimmy Delaney—the Jimmy Delaney—had called her by her first name. Ever since the incident at Bloomingdale’s, she’d been so depressed, but now life was looking up! And regarding her question about picture fees, Melissa wasn’t the least bit concerned. She was a whiz on the Internet, and absolutely no information had ever eluded her.