Focus Lost

by Doug Cooper

Levi signs and slides the receipt back to her and turns toward Gabe. “Don’t fret. I’m sure you can find another gallery. Maybe that owner won’t be so easily persuaded.”

  Gabe looks him up and down. “You’re pathetic. You have everything, and I’m just scraping by raising my teenage sister. But none of that matters.”

  “At least you have your Forbidden Fotos money to fall back on. If all else fails, maybe you should consider working as a paparazzo. You really seem to have a knack for it.”

  Erupting with rage from all the emotion of the past weeks, Gabe drops the pictures he’s carrying and shoves Levi, who after stumbling back a few steps, snickers at the feeble aggression. His derisive amusement further incites Gabe, and he charges and tackles Levi, knocking him out of his sandals. Gabe rolls on top of him. Continuing to laugh, Levi easily throws him off.

  The owner chimes in from behind the desk. “Come on. Please stop. This isn’t going to solve anything. I’m really sorry. I had no choice.”

  Gabe spins away and scrambles toward the door. “Whatever. This is fucking bullshit. I hope you can sleep at night, you sellout. You’ll get what’s coming to you. You’re fucking pathetic.”

  Levi stands up, brushing off his jeans and stepping back into his sandals. He picks up one of the new pictures Gabe had brought with him from the floor. “Don’t forget your art on your way out.” Gabe shoots out the door, not turning back. Levi sets the picture on the counter. “These artist types are so sensitive, am I right? They just don’t get the business side.” He looks at the small refrigerator behind the counter. “You wouldn’t happen to have any alcohol in there, would you? I think this calls for a celebration.”

  The owner stands motionless for a moment, then slowly nods. “Of course. Champagne, all right?”

  Levi bangs his hand on the counter. “Now we’re talking!” The owner doesn’t reveal that the same champagne purchased for and served at Gabe’s opening is about to be served at his closing. Levi turns to the young female who had been standing off to the side filming the entire encounter on her phone. “Care for some bubbles?”

  The girl lowers her phone and stops filming. “Me?” She looks around and not seeing anyone else, flips her auburn hair nervously. “I mean, sure. Why not?”

  “Going to need three glasses,” Levi says to the owner.

  She still puts only two on the bar. “I’m going to let you enjoy this bottle on your own if you don’t mind. I have a lot of work to do getting your purchases ready and removing Mr. Adams’ work. Also, I have to figure out what I’m going to use to fill the space. You sure I can’t persuade you to reconsider your condition?”

  “I’m afraid I can’t. I’m sure you’ll think of something,” Levi says, placing his hand on the small of the young lady’s back and guiding her to the bar. “What’s your name, love?”

  “Mara,” she says, placing her trembling hands on the edge of the bar to steady herself. “Holy shit. My friends are never going to believe this. Do you care if we take a selfie?”

  “Of course not.” Levi’s hand remains on her back, stroking up and down. The owner pops the champagne and fills the glasses. Levi says, “But here’s the thing. I’m going to need you to delete that video and any other pictures from earlier. I’m sure you understand. With all the bad press I’ve had lately and a new movie coming up, I don’t need another unflattering story out there.”

  “But it wasn’t your fault. That guy totally started it,” Mara says.

  Levi picks up both glasses and hands one to her. “You know that and I know that, but most people will assume the worst. It’s best if what they see is you and I having a nice afternoon drinking champagne. Wouldn’t you prefer that?”

  The owner slides the bottle across the bar. “I’ll leave you folks to it. Please feel free to help yourself. I’ll be right over here if you need anything else.”

  Levi keeps his gaze on Mara and just nods his head in response to the owner. Mara stands motionless and silent. His stare captivates her, stifling all movement and sound. “Now let me see your phone.” He removes his hand from her back and holds his open palm in front of her. She types in the access code, her hands still shaking, and passes it to him. Levi pulls up the camera files and deletes them one by one. “There that should do it. Now about that selfie.” He holds out the phone in front of them and crouches over next to her. “Hold up that champagne and say, ‘I love bubbles’” He snaps the photo. “Let’s do one more.” He steadies the camera in front of them and before pushing the button, he turns and kisses her on the cheek. Her eyes widen with surprise and excitement. “That one should generate some clicks for you.” Giving her back the phone, he picks up the bottle from the bar. “Now let’s sit down and relax.”

  They walk over to the sitting area and settle into the small sofa. For the next hour they drink and talk, mostly about Levi, which is his favorite subject, so he’s able to maintain interest quite easily. As the level of champagne nears the bottom of the bottle, the owner offers them another. Mara defers to Levi. He declines, dousing her with disappointment. Instantly lifting her back up, he says, “What are your plans this evening? Would you like to continue this party at my place?”

  “Um, no. I mean, I have no plans,” she stutters, the alcohol unable to quell her racing adrenalin and nerves. “I would love that. Do you want me to follow you? I drove here but I guess I can just leave my car and get it later.”

  Levi cups his hand over her tanned thigh. “Just ride with me. I’ll have a car service bring you back later.” They put their empty flutes on the glass table and stride toward the door. The owner wanders over, glistening from the work of removing Gabe’s pictures and carrying them one by one to the back. Levi says, “Thanks for the hospitality. Apologies for any drama, but I think you made the right decision.”

  “What about the delivery of your purchases?” she says.

  Levi doesn’t falter, talking over his shoulder as they walk out. “I’ll be in touch. Just hold them until you hear from me.”

  Strolling down the sidewalk toward Levi’s Bugatti, Mara says, “Holy shit, is that yours? I mean, of course it is. Who else is driving that around here.” She yanks her phone out of her back pocket and skips toward the car. “Do you mind?”

  Levi reaches in his pocket and unlocks the car with the fob. “Here, give it to me and get behind the wheel.” She hurries back, handing him the phone then running to the car, sliding into the driver’s seat like easing naked into fifteen-hundred thread-count sheets. He snaps several photos. She lingers in the seat, hoping he might let her drive. Levi says, “Sorry, love. I’m going to have to take it from here. My insurance company would skewer me if I let someone else drive this beast.”

  Chapter 15

  Levi completes the hour and a quarter drive with Mara to his house in Malibu in forty minutes. Pulling up to the gate flooded with paparazzi, Mara says, “Do you want me to duck down or cover my face or anything?”

  “Not unless you’re embarrassed to be seen with me,” Levi says, activating the code to open the gate. He navigates through the hyped-up horde, periodically slipping the car into neutral and revving the engine to keep them at bay. But that still doesn’t deter the questions.

  “How old is this one?”

  “Did you check her ID?”

  “Do you make her call you daddy?”

  Levi clears the gate and watches in his mirror to make sure no one sneaks through. He reaches over and cups her thigh again. Her skin dimples with excitement. He shakes his head, eyes still fixed on the reflection of the closing gate. “Sorry about that. Welcome to my world.”

  She puts her hand on his. “I don’t mind. I’m the one next to you.”

  Levi opens the garage and parks in the open space next to the Jeep. A BMW 3 series, and an older model Pontiac GTO fill the other two spots. He lifts his hand from her leg and turns his palm up. “I want to keep it that wa
y so I’m going to need your phone from this point on. I’ll give it back to you on the way out. I hope you understand.”

  She picks up the phone from between her legs. “Just let me send a message to the friends I was supposed to meet, so they know where I am.” She fires off a short message with the selfie from the gallery and deposits the phone in his hand. “There you go. All yours.”

  Levi’s eyes flip between her and the phone. “Are you talking about you or the phone?”

  “Considering the circumstances, I’d say both,” Mara says, suddenly calmer and more confident after surrendering all the power to Levi. She no longer has to think about what might transpire, only react to what is happening. Before, he could’ve ended things at any time. Now he is stuck with her. She accepts whatever consequences come with that because she is on the inside, and the rest of the world is on the outside.

  Levi leads her through the garage into the foyer area that immediately opens up into an expansive great room, offering a view of the ocean through the back glass wall across the lawn and over the trees. Levi plucks a remote from a holder on the wall. The glass wall disappears. Sammy Davis Jr. singing “Mr. Bojangles” flows from all directions. A panel slides in the wall revealing a stocked bar. Mara stops in the middle of the room mesmerized by the view. Levi proceeds to the bar. “You want to stay with champagne or switch to something else?”

  “I’m going to need something stronger,” Mara says. “You got any bourbon?”

  “I’m more of a Tennessee-whiskey guy, but let’s see what they stock back here.” He goes behind the bar. “There’s some Jim Beam, Knob Creek, or Makers Mark. No, I know what we’ll have. I got this nice bottle of aged single barrel Blanton’s that Leo owed me for a bet. If we’re going to drink Kentucky urine, we might as well drink the top-notch piss.”

  While they talk, Sammy belts out, “I met him in a cell in New Orleans, I was down and out. He looked to me to be the eyes of age as he spoke right out.”

  Mara drifts toward the back of the room, standing on the threshold between inside and out. Closing her eyes, she tries not to react to the casual way he referred to Leo, who will always be the mythic Leonardo DiCaprio to her. “Whatever you think is best.”

  Levi strolls over with two rocks glasses and the bottle. “You want to sit out—” She doesn’t even let him finish the sentence and launches herself at him, suddenly not so comfortable with him having all the power after all. Her arms fly around his neck and her mouth devours his. The two glasses smash on the bamboo floor. He hooks his arms around her back, the bottle of Blanton’s still clutched in his right fist. In between slobbering, frantic kisses, he says, “Whoa, whoa, whoa. Slow down. There’s no rush. We got all night.”

  Sammy gives way to Frank Sinatra singing “Something Stupid.”

  “I’m sorry.” She kisses his neck, rubbing her hands through his hair. “I just couldn’t wait any longer. It’s all just too much. Let’s go to your room.”

  His right arm sweeps under her legs and his left hooks behind her back to scoop her up. Walking up the sweeping staircase to the second level, he says, “You’re not afraid of snakes are you?”

  “Literal or figurative?” The question is answered for her as he carries her into the room and tosses her on the bed. She scans the vivarium that covers the entire wall, looking for the inhabitant.

  Frank croons, “And then I go and spoil it all by saying something stupid like ‘I love you’.”

  “You always listen to jazz? I read somewhere that people with high intelligence like jazz,” she rambles nervously.

  Levi laughs. “I don’t think that applies to me. I’m just researching a role for a Rat Pack movie. Trying to get in character. All jazz, all day. Mostly cocktail and the standards.”

  She turns toward him, her face aglow. “Wow. The Rat Pack? That’s amazing. Which character?”

  Walking over to the vivarium, Levi pulls the stopper from the bottle and swigs several mouthfuls of bourbon. “I can tell you it’s not Sammy.”

  Frank continues his serenade. “I practice every day to find some clever lines to say…”

  She pushes Levi against the chest. “I figured that much, silly. It’s probably Dean, isn’t it? You’re too tall to be Frank.”

  Levi still doesn’t answer her question. “Did you know they didn’t refer to themselves as the Rat Pack at all? They called themselves ‘the summit’ or ‘the clan.’”

  “It must be one of the guys no one knows,” she says. “That’s why you won’t tell me.”

  The final lines of the song come through. “And then I go and spoil it all by saying something stupid like ‘I love you’.”

  “Peter Lawford was hardly a nobody,” Levi says defensively. “I bet you didn’t know he was JFK’s brother-in-law. Had four kids with Jack’s sister Pat. He was also the one who brought Ocean’s Eleven to Sinatra, and he was quite the partier too. While at Betty Ford in the eighties, he had a helicopter air-drop cocaine to him. He would go for a walk in the desert, get his package, and come back ready for more therapy. They never even knew. You know how he got busted? His wife saw the helicopter charges on his credit card bill. Now that’s a player.”

  “Geez. So sensitive,” Mara says, pushing him again playfully. “I was only joking. I’m sure you’ll be great.”

  “Mink Schmink” by Eartha Kitt plays next.

  Levi turns toward the vivarium and taps on the glass. “My girl sleeps most of the day inside that log but she’ll probably come out at some point.”

  Mara crouches down to look for her. “Is she dangerous?”

  “Aren’t all females?” Levi drinks again from the bottle and passes it to her, winking. “Nah, she’s really a pussycat. I let her out all the time.”

  Eartha sings, “Mink, schmink, money, schmoney. Think your hot now don’t ya honey…”

  “That’s so cool.” Mara gulps some of the bourbon, studying the markings on the snake’s back visible through one of the holes in the hollowed-out log. “It’s a girl? She’s beautiful. What’s her name?”

  “Hannah.” He taps again on the glass. “Wake up, sleepy head. Come out and say ‘hi.’” Hannah sticks her iridescent blackish-brown head and neck out of the log and slithers toward them. “That’s my girl.” She rolls on her back, revealing the smooth underside of her cream-colored throat.

  “Silk, schmilk, satin, schmatin. A penthouse high in old Manhattan. That’s not enough if haven’t got love.”

  “God, she’s fucking amazing.” Mara turns to Levi, pushing him back onto the bed. She sets the bottle on the nightstand and kicks off her sandals, climbing up and straddling him. She unbuttons his pants. Her nervousness forces out unnecessary and brusque words. “I’m warning you though. I’m so wet right now. It’s a hurricane down there. Just being here. Watching Hannah. I always wanted a pet snake.” She lifts her shirt, revealing the tattoo of a snake twisted and coiled along her right side. “I had to settle for this one.”

  Levi pulls her shirt the rest of the way off, tracing his finger along the body of the snake. “I like yours too.” He drops down and drags his lips over the tattoo, stopping where it disappears into her shorts. She unfastens her embroidered turquoise bra and tosses it on the floor next to her shirt. Levi rolls her off him onto her back. “Do you trust me?”

  “At this point, I don’t have much choice, do I?” She unbuttons her shorts and wiggles out of them, leaving on her matching sheer thong.

  “Pearls, schmearls, ermine, shmermen. From Jim or Jack or Joe or Herman. That’s not enough if you haven’t got love.”

  Levi stands and peels off his shirt and drops his pants, which are his final layer. She sits up crawling toward him. He pushes her back. “Not yet. I want to try something. Lie on your back in the middle of the bed.” He opens the drawer to his nightstand and pulls out four ropes with slipknots in both ends.

  “Seems l
ike you try this quite often,” Mara says, remaining in the middle of the bed.

  “Ring, schming, jewelry, schmellery. Don’t you know that’s just Tom Foolery? What have you got if you haven’t got love?”

  “This isn’t the new part.” He loops one of the ends around her right wrist then runs the rope around the corner of the bed frame and tightens the other end around her wrist again. “If this gets to be too much at any time, just say something, and I’ll stop.” He moves down and anchors her right leg the same way then her left ankle and other wrist.

  Mara stretches her arms and legs testing the ropes. “What should I say? You mean like a safe word, right?”

  He holds the end of the bottle over her mouth. “You want a drink?” She nods, her eyes wide with excitement. He pours a few drops on her lips. She cranes her neck forward wanting more. He tilts the bottle, filling her mouth.

  She gulps it down. “More, please.”

  “Cars, schmars and princes, schminces. With caviar and chicken blintzes. Don’t mean a thing if you haven’t got love.”

  “Say whatever you want. I don’t think it matters as long as it’s not ‘harder’ or ‘tighter.’” He dumps more bourbon on her, missing her mouth onto her chin and neck and down her chest to her stomach. He licks it off working his way down to her waist.

  She sucks in a full breath, expanding her chest. “Yeah, baby. Right there.” Her stomach quivers as she slowly exhales. “How about ‘pelican’? If I say ‘pelican’ you have to stop immediately.”

  “Pelican it is.” He runs his finger under the waistband of her panties. Unable to slide them off with her legs anchored, he says, “I guess I didn’t think this through.” He sets the bottle on the nightstand and kneels between her spread legs. She adducts her thighs as far as the ropes will allow trying to wrap around him. He hooks his fingers under the waistband on the side of her hips, and with a single, quick tug, he rips them off.

  She shrieks, writhing and grinding her hips into the bed. “Come on, come on, come on. I can’t take this. I need you inside me.”