by Doug Cooper
It all went back to when she was a young girl. At the time she never thought of it as abuse or even punishment. It was just something that happened and kept happening for almost a year. After the first few times, she looked at it as a responsibility more than anything. She was eleven years old and in sixth grade. Her mom had been dead nearly four years. She and her dad lived in a two-bedroom apartment in West Adams only a few blocks from their old house. He had tried keeping the house after her mom died, but without her mom’s teacher salary and him being out of work for almost two years, there was no way.
At first when her dad was out of a job, Eva didn’t really understand what was going on. She wondered why all her friends’ parents went to work and her dad never did, but she didn’t really question it. She just thought she was lucky to have him home all the time. She knew they weren’t rich, but there always seemed to be enough to get by. She didn’t know the money they did have was from the insurance. Eventually that ran out, and she remembered things slowly disappearing. First it was appliances, then furniture. Finally, one day she got home from school and all her stuff was packed in trash bags. Her dad had borrowed a pickup truck from a friend, and they loaded their remaining stuff in three separate truckloads and took it to their new apartment. Before they left with the last load, her dad put the keys in the mailbox. She had said, “But if you leave the keys in the mailbox, won’t anyone be able to go in the house?”
Her dad said, “It doesn’t matter. It’s the bank’s problem now.”
It didn’t really bother her though. She had never really felt comfortable in the house after her mother passed anyway, and she was excited to be moving so close. It meant she wouldn’t have to change schools or get new friends, and there was a pool. Unfortunately, she never got to swim in it after she found several used needles at the bottom. Anytime she asked to go to the pool, her dad told her to just take a bath. That was her own private swimming pool, he said.
After her mom died, her dad never slept in a bed or even a bedroom again. The mattress, box springs, and headboard her parents had used were one of the first things he got rid of. He kept his clothes in the room but only went in to change. He always just slept on the couch or in the recliner. That’s where she would find him in the mornings, and when he started working third shift at the food packaging plant, he would be there in the late afternoon when she got home from school. He would usually get up around five in the evening, make them dinner, which was usually breakfast, then help her with her homework.
Afterward, they would watch whatever old movie they could find on TV until it was time for her to go to bed. That’s where she got her love and appreciation for film. There weren’t too many movies made before 1980, the year her dad said everything turned to shit, that she hadn’t seen. If she hadn’t seen it, she could probably at least tell you why it wasn’t worth watching.
At first, when her dad started working the third shift, he had a friend or family member stay over while he was at work. She really couldn’t tell anyone was even there though. Her dad would tuck her in, head off to work at some point, then be home in the chair sleeping when she woke up. But when he let Roy, one of his coworkers and friends, who worked first shift, move in to the bedroom her dad never used, he didn’t need anyone to stay and look after her. Roy was her live-in babysitter.
The new arrangement seemed to work for everyone. Her dad finished his shift at six in the morning and got home by six-thirty as Roy left to start his shift at seven. Once Roy was gone, her dad woke her up and got her ready for school and saw her off, then slept most of the day until she got home. Roy knocked off at three but rarely came home until nine or ten at night. Days passed without her even seeing him.
Most importantly, for the first time since her mom died, her dad was relaxed. The additional income from Roy staying with them combined with her dad not always needing favors from people or having to pay others to stay over relieved a lot of pressure, and he wasn’t as sad and serious all the time. He laughed and joked with her like he used to with her mom. That was how she always remembered her mom and dad together. He had a way of always making her mom laugh, which would then make him smile.
One night after her dad had tucked her in, just as she was falling asleep, she heard a light knock on the door and the latch open. She assumed it was her dad wanting to say good night one last time before he left. But as the light from the hallway filled the room then faded when the door closed shut again, she knew from the smell, it was Roy. He always reeked like stale beer and Bengay. She said, “Roy? Is everything okay with my dad?”
“Shhh, he’s fine. Go back to sleep.” Roy crept over and sat on the edge of the bed. The wintergreen and menthol aroma swirled around her. He stretched out on the bed next to her. His body felt hot through the covers. He was breathing heavily. Scooting away, she moved toward the wall. He wrapped his arm around her and pulled her against him. He said, “Just lie still. You know I really like you. Right now I just need to be close to someone.” He pressed against her. She could feel him poking her in the small of her back through the covers. He rocked back and forth slowly. Terrified, she started to cry. He kept moving back and forth. “Now, now, there’s nothing to be afraid of. Don’t you like having me here? I know your dad does.” His breathing intensified. “That’s why you can never say anything. If you do, your dad will be upset, and I’ll have to leave. He’ll be all alone on his own again.” He moaned softly, his body pressing more firmly into hers. “All you have to do is not say anything when I come in to visit. Can you do that?”
Nodding, she whimpered, “Yes.”
“That’s a good girl,” he said, rubbing his hand up and down her leg as the movement quickened until his body tightened and he rolled on his back, gasping and growling in pleasure, shaking the mattress. She remained still and silent. He slid off the bed. Before leaving, he whispered, “Remember, not a word.”
And so this continued, for almost a year. He didn’t visit every night, but he was there more often than not. Eventually there wasn’t even any talk. He would just come in, lie next to her, stay for five or ten minutes and leave. Sometimes she would be asleep and wake up with him under the covers next to her. Others she would hear him lumbering down the hall and dig her nails into the mattress, praying that he would keep walking.
But as much as she hated Roy’s nightly visits, she didn’t want to upset her dad or cause him any stress. She convinced herself that Roy wasn’t hurting her. It was her way to help her dad. She just pretended it was a bad dream and scooted as close to the wall as she could after he left and closed her eyes, hoping not to wake up until her dad came into her room the next morning.
Then one day it just stopped, or rather Roy was gone and never came back. She asked her dad what happened. He just said, “Roy moved out.” And he never spoke of him again, which was fine with her. She never mentioned him again either, not to anyone. She stuffed it all in a box and stuck that box on a shelf in some dark corner of her mind that only seemed to open on occasions like this.
In the shower, she reaches up and turns off the water. The drops bead and cascade down her smooth skin. She collects and wrings her thick, black mane and throws it over her shoulder. From the back of the door, she snags her white Turkish cotton robe and wraps it around her in a tight embrace. Her wet feet smack against the Carrara marble tile on her way to the bedroom. The clock on the nightstand displays 5:05 a.m. Ten minutes before she usually wakes up. She crawls onto the bed and curls up on her side toward the middle. Her body tremors with loneliness. She pulls her arms and legs in tight. Her eyelids squeeze shut pushing the painful memories away until the next time.
◆◆◆
Gabe sits hunched over a bowl of cereal at the kitchen table. His bare feet tap nervously against the vinyl flooring. Other than donning a clean white V-neck, he wears the same gray sweatpants from the night before. His open laptop rests on the table next to the bowl. He works the touch pa
d with his right hand and the spoon with his left, keeping his eyes on the screen as he flips through a cascading stream of photographs.
Abbie shuffles sleepily down the hall, reading messages on her phone. Her white ribbed scoopneck tank top has the message Stay Calm and Sleep On in pink block lettering on the front. She glances at Gabe. “Where’s your friend?”
Gabe says, “She left.”
“You didn’t even make her breakfast? That’s classy,” Abbie says, picking up the empty carton of almond milk. “And thanks for saving me some milk.”
Gabe drops the spoon into his empty bowl. “She had to work this morning, and there’s more in the fridge.” He stands up and takes his dish to the sink, noticing her skimpy top and polka-dotted shorts. “What did I tell you about your outfits? If you’re going to wear that stuff around the house, you have to wear a housecoat. You’re not ten years old anymore.”
“Relax. I wear less than this at the gym.” Abbie scoops out a handful of the multigrain cereal and eats it dry.
“That doesn’t make me feel a whole lot better.” Gabe gets a clean bowl from the cabinet and takes it to her. “And don’t be eating with your hands out of the box. I swear, I don’t know what’s gotten into you lately, but you won’t be leaving the house if you don’t straighten up.”
Abbie empties her hand into the bowl and adds more from the box. “Geez. For someone who got laid last night, you sure are cranky. Thought you would be in a chipper mood this morning. You had a great opening at the gallery, but better yet, you closed the deal at home. Can’t recall you having a better day than that in a while.”
Gabe returns to his seat across from her. “Maybe if I had some help around here and you came home when you were supposed to, I could actually enjoy myself.”
“I’m glad you said that.” Abbie sits up in her chair, wiggling her shoulders proudly. “Have you checked our bank account today?” She accents her remark with a nod toward the computer.
“No. Why would I?” Gabe swipes across the touchpad, clicking buttons and maneuvering the pointer to access the account in the browser. “What did you do?”
Abbie says, “Promise me you’re not going to be mad. I know how hard you’ve worked and how much you’ve had to sacrifice for me over the years.”
His eyes widen, looking at the screen. “Where on earth did you get ten thousand dollars?” He stares across the table at her. “Tell me right now what you did.”
She moves her hands up and down in a calming motion. “Easy does it. Don’t have an aneurism. It wasn’t anything illegal.”
Gabe says, “Then tell me exactly how a sixteen-year-old girl gets her hands on that kind of money.”
Abbie scoops a spoonful of cereal into her mouth. “I sold those pictures.”
Gabe shoots up from the chair. “You what?”
In between chews, she says, “I said, I sold the pictures of Levi and Emily for you. I knew you wouldn’t do it, so I did it for you. You’re welcome.”
“No, no, no,” Gabe says, pushing his hands through his hair. “Please tell me you’re joking. It’s from something else, right? You won a scholarship or grant from school or something, right?”
Abbie ignores his outrage and continues eating. “Check for yourself. Should be up by now.”
Gabe drops his hands to the keyboard and types furiously. Stories, images, and videos from various media outlets populate the screen. His face fills with dread. “Jesus, Abbie. What did you do?”
Abbie says, “Go to Forbidden Fotos. They’re the ones who bought them.”
Gabe clicks on the link. The five photos appear under the headline “Who’s Your Daddy?” with the article:
Costars Levi Combs and Emily James took time from their busy promotional schedules as father and daughter in the their critically-acclaimed film For Love to enjoy a family trip to a clandestine waterfall in the California countryside. Bath time apparently came early as the two can be seen disrobing and swimming in the creek. Perhaps it was a snake in the water that prompted Ms. James to mount and cling so close to Mr. Combs, but one thing for sure, the kiss they are engaged in is no goodnight kiss.
Neither party nor their representatives have responded to our requests for comment. Stay tuned as details unfold.
Gabe pushes the laptop to the side and springs up from the chair. “Now the police will get involved. What were you thinking? You had no right to do this.”
“Don’t treat me like a child.” Abbie stands from the chair to face him. “You said yourself that because she was underage you had an obligation to go to the police. Remember? You said, ‘The law is the law.’”
Gabe frowns at her quoting his words back to him. “I’ll stop treating you like a child when you stop acting like one. They were my pictures. It was for me to decide. And you didn’t go to the police. You went to the media.”
Emotion overwhelms Abbie. Her voice escalates to a high pitch. “I’m just tired of watching you work so hard and get nothing in return. You gave up everything for me and deserve to catch a break. I knew you wouldn’t do anything because you think you always have to set a good example for me. The only person who did anything wrong in all this was him. I don’t care how famous he is. That’s just gross. Let the cops decide what to do. Plus, think of what this will do for your gallery show. Did you see your name? I made them put that there. You couldn’t ask for better publicity.”
“Come here.” Gabe curls around the table, opening his arms. Abbie relaxes into his chest. He says, “I didn’t give up anything. Other than having Mom and Dad back, I wouldn’t trade these years for anything. I just don’t want to be known for these types of photos. I want to make it on my own with my art. If that takes longer, then so be it.”
“I’m sorry,” Abbie says, looking up at him. “I didn’t mean to upset you. I really was just doing what I thought was right.”
“From now on, let me decide what is right when it comes to my career, okay?” He strokes the back of her nodding head. “I guess they’re out there now. We can’t take them back. No sense getting upset. We’ll just have to see what happens.”
Abbie hugs him, peering over his shoulder at the computer screen. “Hey, isn’t that a picture of Eva?” She slides around Gabe and sits at the table in front of the computer. “Right here. In this other article about Levi.” She clicks on a link and opens a news story about them at the Golden Globes.
Gabe steps up behind her. “No, it can’t be. She never said anything when we were talking about the movie.”
Abbie scrolls down the page, scanning the article. “Oh my god. She’s his fricking agent. No wonder she had those movie passes. Why didn’t she say anything?”
Gabe leans forward, taking control of the pointer and scrolling back up to the picture. He reads the caption aloud. “Hollywood power agent Eva Florez and her client Levi Combs work the red carpet at the Golden Globes for his nominated film For Love.” Gabe clicks on her name and pulls up a list of articles and pictures. “She said her name was Eva Fuentes.” He accesses the slideshow of pictures, flipping through one after the other.
Abbie puts her hand on her brother’s. “I’m sorry. I fell for it too. I really liked her. What a bitch, huh? I just don’t get it though. If she knew you had the pictures, why not just ask you about them?”
“No reason to pay for something you can get for free.” Gabe pushes away from the table and paces in the kitchen. “That explains why she was in the studio last night when I woke up. She said it was to check her email. The sad thing for her is, I would’ve totally given the pics to her if she had just been upfront and asked.”
“I’m happy I sold them and they’re out there now. That’s just shady.” Abbie stands and walks toward Gabe. “Serves them right. Are you going to call her? Let’s do it right now.” She bounces on her toes in excitement. “Screw ’em both. Tell her you got more pics and if she doesn’t want
them released, they better bring a suitcase full of money. Nobody crosses the family.” She waves her hand in front of her, delivering the line.
Gabe stops pacing. “Easy there, Godfather. Let’s just sit tight. The damage is done. We’ll wait and see what happens next.”
Chapter 8
In a vivarium against the wall in Levi’s bedroom of his Point Dume home, a water python slithers out of a small pond and coils around a suspended tree limb. Levi sleeps naked facedown diagonal across his elevated platform king-sized bed. The black satin sheet twists across his back under his left hip and out between his legs. The silver duvet lies in a ball at the foot of the bed. Through the disappearing walls of glass of his second story master bedroom, the lap pool, spa, and fire pit are visible across a rolling lawn that extends to the edge of a cliff and drops off to a field of treetops with the occasional roof poking through. Just beyond the trees, the Pacific Ocean glimmers in the morning light.
Eva barrels in with a tablet computer tucked under her arm. Shaking her head at the state of the room, she walks over to the nightstand. A pair of lavender panties hang from a half-full bottle of Jameson sitting on top of a note, which reads, Call me—310-555-2172. She picks up one of the throw pillows from the floor and hits Levi in the head. “You just couldn’t help yourself could you?”
Levi stirs, pulling the sheet from his back over his head. “What the fuck? Enough with that shit.”
Eva presses and swipes the screen of the tablet a few times and tosses it next to him. The screen displays the “Who’s Your Daddy?” article with the pictures of Levi and Emily at the waterfall. Pretending to be too angry to face him, Eva walks to the glass wall and stares out across the lawn at the ocean. “All you had to do was get through the Oscars and the upcoming new movie premier. Just stay out of trouble for two weeks. That’s it.”