Focus Lost

by Doug Cooper

  Eva remains off to the side, becoming more concerned watching Levi flounder. They have come so far and are falling so fast. She thinks about all of the time and money she has invested just to get to this point, and how he has wiped it away in just a few weeks. She remembers the opening weekend of his first leading role. So much has changed since then—professionally and personally. At that time, she thought their relationship could actually be more than business.

  It was a Sunday evening. Their first big movie had been released that Friday. The numbers had been trickling in all weekend, teasing them with good news. Leading into Saturday, the movie had been slightly ahead of a Ryan Gosling and Emma Stone romantic comedy in the box office but had dropped to second heading into Sunday. At $52 million, the movie revenues had already exceeded the costs, so that meant Levi would be viewed as a bankable star and other opportunities would come. But winning the weekend would enable Eva to demand an even greater price the next time. The $250 thousand she had secured for Levi was his largest payday so far, but it was the two and a half percent on the backend she had been able to negotiate that would put them over the top. A $65–70 million opening weekend would mean $150 to $200 million was a realistic possibility in the coming year. Working together, they had done well to get by financially, never having to work other jobs like most starting out in the business, and they had been able to increase their earnings every year. Of course Levi never saved any of it. Like so many with a sudden influx of disposable income and a lot of free time on their hands, he had spent his increased income on clothes, jewelry, and cars. Eva poured most of her money back into the business and a nicer place to live. She still wasn’t making enough money to justify a separate office location, but that would change with this payday.

  Knowing they would both be sweating the outcome, Eva invited Levi over to her loft at the Roosevelt Building. The rent at thirty-five hundred per month was more than she could afford, but it was her office as well, so she could write off the festivities for the evening. She peeled off the foil and untwisted the wire that encased the top of their third bottle of Armand de Brignac champagne. The cork popped prematurely, startling them both. As much as they had already consumed, the only surprise should’ve been that they were feeling anything at all.

  Champagne spilled from the top and ran down the side of the bottle, streaming onto the floor. The gold metallic bottle with the distinctive pewter ace of spades logo glistened in the track lighting shining down from the vaulted ceilings. She picked up a napkin next to the untouched cheese and charcuterie spread on the glass coffee table. She thought it would balance out the drinking, but the stress and uncertainty of the evening was more conducive to alcohol than soppressata and aged Gouda.

  Seeing the spilling champagne, Levi rushed over. “Stop! Don’t waste it.” He took the bottle and licked up the side. “This stuff is too good.”

  Eva’s phone vibrated on the table. She picked it up and read the message. Looking up at Levi, her eyes danced with excitement. She tossed the phone on the couch and snatched the bottle from Levi. “The day’s numbers are coming in. We hit seventy-two million.” She covered the mouth of the bottle with her thumb and shook, spraying the three-hundred-dollar champagne all over Levi. “Eight million ahead of Gosling.” She shot more champagne on Levi. “We did it, Levi. We’re going to win the weekend.” He grabbed the bottle and turned it upside down over her head. The bubbles foamed in her thick, black hair and streamed down her face. She pushed his arms up. “What are you doing? Stop!” The champagne spilled over both of them and onto the table.

  “Fuck it,” Levi said. “We can afford it.” He shook the last drops from the bottle. Her arms, slippery from the champagne, slid across his, and she fell against his chest. He dropped the bottle and wrapped his arms around her as the bottle bounced and clanked on the polished concrete floor and rolled underneath the coffee table. Their laughing and excitement faded to silence. She stayed pressed against him, securing her arms around his waist. He lifted his hand, stroking the back of her head. She stared up at him. Seconds passed, each of them waiting for the other to act. He bent down and kissed her forehead, tasting the drops of champagne beaded on her skin. She tilted her head back further and drew his lips down to hers.

  In that first kiss, all the tension, fear, and struggling of the past five years ignited. Neither of them hesitated or resisted. They succumbed to the emotion and the consequences of their indulgence. The effort, the risk, and the faith in one another compounded into a solitary, all-encompassing passion that burned around them, and most of all, through them. Their mouths consumed one another. Levi reached down, pawing at her tight, black leather pencil skirt. She reached around and pulled down the zipper in the back. The skirt wilted to the floor, revealing only bare skin. Lifting one foot, she kicked the skirt off, leaving on her black, chunky-heeled ankle boots.

  Levi placed his hand on the small of her back, pulling her close. She hooked one leg around him, hopped up, and interlocked her other leg to lift her up. His arms slid underneath her, supporting her full weight, maintaining their embrace. He walked over to the window and lifted her onto the granite sill. Her body shuddered from the smooth, cool surface. Levi pulled back and kicked off his loafers. She leaned back against the windows and admired the beauty she had discovered and was about to experience. He unbuckled his belt and frantically shed his pants, almost toppling himself in his haste.

  Eva followed his lead and stripped off her sleeveless top and lace bra. She then removed Levi’s shirt and swung her legs around him, driving the heels, which was all she was wearing at that point, into his backside as she yanked him toward her. Their hot skin melted together. He pulled her hair back, exposing her neck. His lips moved from one side to the other. Her head writhed, twisting her entire body. The cold window on her lower back and bottom contrasted the heat between them. She reached down and guided him toward her. He lowered his hand, feeling for the opening and plunged inside her, lifting her off the windowsill onto him.

  She kicked the thick heels into his hamstrings wanting more. “Deeper,” she moaned and closed her eyes.

  Levi bent his legs, rotating his hips in quick, forceful thrusts.

  “More,” she said. “I want to feel all of you.”

  Levi pushed harder, growling with pleasure. “God, I’ve wanted to do this since I met you.”

  “Yeah?” she whispered. “Don’t stop. Harder.” She dropped her legs to the floor and spun around, reaching behind to find him. Once he was again inside her, she bent over and worked backward, using her hands on the window for leverage. Her sweaty palms fogged the area around her hands.

  Levi planted his palm in the middle of her back and pushed her forward. She arched her spine, embracing the cool window on her sweaty chest and face. He grunted as he slammed into her. “You feel amazing.”

  She just kept repeating three words. “More. Harder. Deeper.”

  Levi attempted to accommodate, but it wasn’t enough to sate her demonstrative mantra. He lifted his left leg up on the window ledge to open up his hips and deepen the stroke.

  Eva moaned approvingly, bending down at the waist and pushing further back into him. She reached up and wrapped her hand around his ankle, now by her ear. Digging her nails in, she pushed and pulled, using his ankle to steady herself and synchronize with his movements, both encouraging each other with the same affirmative word over and over as their pace and breathing quickened until their bodies simultaneously tightened and shuddered, convulsing and dropping to the floor in a heap of exhaustion and satisfaction.

  They lay on the cold concrete floor in silence. As their heart rates lowered and body temperatures decreased, they pressed closer to one another for warmth and comfort. Eva eventually climbed on top of him and started again. They would finish there and one more time in the bedroom before falling asleep, her shoulder nestled into his armpit with her head resting on his chest. No words or questions about wh
at had happened or why were spoken as they drifted off.

  When the light of day brought the exposure and responsibility of their actions, Levi slid out of bed, quietly got dressed, and slipped out the door. Eva was awake but pretended to sleep. She just lay quiet, listening to his movements, still able to smell him on her and feel him next to her, inside of her. In that moment, she no longer wanted more. She had finally had enough.

  ◆◆◆

  At his desk, Marcus reads the recap of Levi’s failed premiere on his computer with satisfaction. Consumed by the article, he doesn’t notice the head deputy’s assistant walk up beside him. She clears her throat. “I don’t know what you did, but it’s not good.”

  Marcus rotates in his chair and slides back to create space between them. “Why, what happened?”

  “Don’t know the full story, but you need to come with me right now.” She waves her hand and moves toward the head deputy’s office. “The mayor called. Doesn’t seem good.”

  Marcus rises and fetches his suit jacket from the chair next to his desk. “Hang on. Let me get my coat.”

  Not stopping, she says, “Unless it’s bulletproof, I wouldn’t worry about it.”

  Marcus picks up his pace, putting on the jacket and catching up alongside her at the same time. “That bad, huh?”

  “The mayor barely even let him finish his sentences. Last thing the head deputy said was, ‘Don’t worry, sir, I’ll take care of it.’”

  They arrive at the office door. The assistant steps to the side, yielding for Marcus to proceed. “You’re on your own. Good luck.”

  Marcus straightens his body and strides in. “You wanted to see me, head deputy?”

  “Close the door behind you.” He stands and walks out from behind the desk. All the years Marcus has been working for him, he’s never been in a closed-door session. He knows others who have. Those visits usually followed with a few empty cardboard boxes and a security escort to the parking garage. The head deputy waits for the door to latch before continuing. “I thought I made myself clear.” His voice escalates in sound and intensity. “You were not supposed to talk to any of the parties until you had something. I mean, what were you thinking? Ambushing a seventeen-year-old girl in a public place with no legal representation?”

  “But, sir—”

  The head deputy roils across the room, passing on the reprimand he had just received. “Do you know how bad this makes us look? Emily James’ lawyer, who happens to be a close personal friend and major contributor to the mayor’s reelection campaign, is threatening to sue for harassment.” Marcus remains quiet, just nodding, waiting for the head deputy to run out of steam, which, based on his ire, could take awhile. “What part of, ‘It’s an election year. Make sure you have something’ didn’t you understand? And then you told her that you found her through her online posts? Our office now has nothing better to do than stalk celebrities through social media?” The head deputy pauses. Marcus doesn’t respond, thinking the questions are rhetorical. “Well,” the head deputy says, “Don’t just stand there. Tell me why I shouldn’t fire you like the mayor wants me to?”

  “Sir, I did, I mean I do have something. The sister of the photographer called me. She confirmed there are more photos and that there was definitely sexual intercourse. With those pics, I thought if I could get Emily as a witness, it would be a slam dunk.”

  The head deputy relaxes hearing the new information. “You have these pictures?”

  “Not yet, but—”

  The momentary calm passes. The head deputy launches another assault. “You better get them. If we don’t have enough to file charges in the next week, I have no choice but to—”

  Marcus interrupts him this time, not needing to hear anymore to understand what is at stake. “Don’t worry, sir. I understand. I just need to get a warrant for Levi Combs’ agent’s office. That’s who has the pictures.”

  “If that’s the case, use Judge Romans,” the head deputy says. “She’ll be most supportive and won’t care about the political implications.”

  Marcus nods. “Yes, sir. I’ll get right on it. Thank you, sir.”

  Chapter 17

  Gabe walks up the driveway toward their house. Abbie’s car occupies the middle, filling both spaces. The neighbor boy shoots baskets next door, combatting the waning daylight.

  Emily approaches from the shadows. “Mr. Adams?”

  Gabe, distracted watching the boy make a long shot, hadn’t noticed her. He looks again, still not recognizing her. “I assume you’re here to see Abbie.” He motions toward the house.

  Emily says, “Actually, I’m here to see you.”

  Their approach activates the floodlight. Gabe recognizes Emily in the added light. “Oh, Ms. James. I’m sorry. I didn’t know that was you. My sister is around the same age. Thought you were a friend of hers. Let’s go around back to my studio.” Gabe leads Emily around the side of the garage to the back door.

  Emily says, “I was hoping to talk to you about the pictures you took.”

  Gabe unlocks the door and reaches in to turn on the light. The two rows of long fluorescent bulbs buzz above while warming. He says, “There’s really not much to talk about.”

  Emily walks over to three framed pictures leaning against the wall. Gabe puts his camera bag on the desk. Facing away from him, Emily studies the pictures. “I think you have the wrong idea about what was going on between Levi and me.”

  Gabe talks to her back as she examines the pictures. “No, it was pretty clear.”

  Emily turns and faces him. “I mean why it was happening.”

  “I don’t really care about why or any of it really,” Gabe says. “It’s not like I’m doing anything about it. It’s really out of my hands. I just know that any action taken will be for your own good.”

  Emily walks toward Gabe. “How is hurting my career and his for my own good?”

  Gabe moves to keep the large rectangular worktable between them. “It’s really not up to me. The DA has taken up the matter. You’re best to direct your questions to his office.”

  “I don’t know about that. I think you have more influence than you realize,” Emily says, moving around the edge of the table toward him. “Just say the pictures are misleading and that Levi and I were just swimming from what you could tell.”

  Gabe slides to his left mirroring her movement to keep distance between them. “But that’s not true. You and I both know it.”

  “Are you listening to yourself?” Emily asks, elevating her tone. “Stop living in fantasyland. Reality is the story we tell.”

  “Why should I lie and have this blowing back on me? Nothing will happen to you. You’re a minor. They’ll go after Levi.”

  “But they shouldn’t. I knew exactly what I was doing.” Emily leans on the table, pushing her breasts toward Gabe. “I’m not a little girl. You grow up fast in this business. It’s not like it was my first time.”

  For once, Emily was telling the truth. She was barely a teenager her first time, and it was all by her own doing. She had determined when it would happen and had carefully chosen with whom. Funwalla had been on air for two years and was an instant success, which pretty much allowed her to do anything she wanted. The show was making so much money, the studio didn’t care, and her parents surely didn’t either. It had already gotten them a new house and new cars and new jobs as her managers, which as parents, they should’ve been fulfilling already, but this paid way better than their obligatory domestic roles, and it wasn’t that difficult either. All they had to say was yes or no to opportunities. Almost always the answer was yes. Work always came first, and Emily was happy to oblige. She dropped out of school and instead had a tutor come in five days a week in the mornings. She had tried to stay in school at first, but it became too much of a disruption for her. Everyone was better off if she stayed as close to the set as possible.

 
; The day she had chosen for her big day was the final day of shooting for the holiday special. They were wrapping midday on the Wednesday before Thanksgiving and shutting down production for the holidays until the second week of January. With the planned party, she knew HE would be there, and it would be chaotic. No one would notice if the two of them slipped away. Even though she had her own dressing room, she was rarely alone in it. It was either hair and makeup, running lines with castmates, schooling with her tutor, or her parents pestering about some appearance or opportunity to further her career. The latter she had taken care of by getting them tickets to the Jolie-Pitt Foundation holiday charity luncheon to raise money. She knew her parents would never miss a chance to network with the elite powerbrokers that would surely be in attendance.

  The he in the plan was Caleb, the cable wrangler on Funwalla. He was the assistant to the boom operator responsible for moving and preparing sound equipment on the set. Only twenty-five, he had graduated from UCLA film school three years prior and was working his way up, finally starting to see some progress after nothing but gopher jobs the first few years. Emily wasn’t totally sure he would go for her, but she did always catch him staring. She was the star, so people were always watching her, but with him it was different. It was how he looked at her, and that when she caught him, his eyes didn’t divert. Most people, the second her eyes met theirs, they looked away. His lingering stare tickled something inside her. She knew it was more than a crush. She had gotten over those years ago. Crushes were for little girls. It was time for her to become a woman.

  Like most things with Emily, it was more of a conquest, a mission to complete. When she got something in her head, it was going to happen, one way or the other. No was not an answer she heard very often, and when she did, she didn’t accept it. Another advantage of making her move on the last day of shooting was that if it didn’t work out, she wouldn’t have to see him for almost six weeks, plenty of time for both of them to forget, or for her to have him fired.