by Martin Brown
“I’d like that,” Juliette said with an inviting smile.
Of course you would, Michael thought. If a job doesn’t land in her lap, it is likely that some quality photojournalism showing her interacting with her students, doing what she did best, might serve as a terrific enhancement in the search for her next job.
Walt hung back as he watched admiringly as Michael did his best to impress Juliette.
Later, after their student presentation boards were stowed in the back of Walt’s 1967 Volkswagen bus, and the two were on the short drive around the Depot and down Miller Avenue, heading back to the camera shop, Walt smiled broadly at Michael and said, “I’ve got to tell you, I was impressed. You saw your opportunity to connect with Juliette and you took it. You’re not a shy guy. Guys like us may not have Tom Selleck’s killer looks…”
“Or killer body.”
“But we do the best we can with what we’ve got, and that’s where it counts.”
“I try, Walt. I really try.”
“Well, ya done good my boy. You didn’t squander an opportunity. That bit about photographing her working with her class was sheer genius. I really have to hand it to you.”
“Thanks, Walt. You have to make the most of the cards you’re dealt.”
“I’ve got to get you connected with more of the right people in this town. I think you’re really going to enjoy meeting the people who make this town work.”
Michael, pleased with himself, continued to play the role of the ambitious young man trying to work his way up the long ladder of success. “I’d like that; I’ve always enjoyed meeting important people. Those are the people who can really help make you a success.”
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
Michael called Juliette that night and scheduled his photo shoot for the following Monday. He was anxious to move the process along, but frequently reminded himself that the game he played was one in which patience played a critical role.
Monday he had off all day, which was perfect. He wanted to focus solely on impressing Juliette with both his appearance and his professionalism. He searched through his closet for the shirt and pants that would allow him to look his best. Frustratingly, given his growing size, that wasn’t easy.
Michael reasoned that his weight over the last two years must have gone up twenty-five pounds or more. It was an issue he only paid attention to on those rare occasions that he chose to dress to impress.
He settled for a pair of jeans that thankfully still fit, although not perfectly, and an aging Hawaiian Aloha shirt that allowed for a loose, free flowing look that helped diminish the impact of his expanding girth. The shirt, a pale orange, with coconut trees and surfboards, he hoped would convey a message that he was a free and happy spirit.
Michael walked into Juliette’s classroom precisely on time. Juliette was clearly pleased and reminded her students that, “Mr. Marks is here to take pictures of us having a good time working and learning.” The children were dispersed to different parts of their classroom and began working on a history project, a re-creation of the battle of Yorktown, an event that precipitated the end of the Revolutionary War.
Camera at the ready, Michael threw himself into the project and began snapping away. He knew by looking at the smiling faces, and the studious candid moments that he captured, that Juliette would be delighted with the results of this shoot.
Juliette, somewhat flirtatiously, thanked Michael when he was finished, and then followed him outside of her classroom.
“Could we meet down at the Depot and let me buy you a coffee after I dismiss the class? I’ll be out of here in about twenty minutes.”
“Sure,” Michael said with a smile. “I’ll head down there and hold us a table.”
“Great,” Juliette said with a smile. “I’ll see you in a little while.”
Michael walked into the Depot, a combination of coffee, sandwich, pastry shop and bookstore. It was created from the renovated passenger waiting room which once marked the terminus point of the Mill Valley Interurban electric train line. He was happy to find his favorite back corner table unoccupied. He placed his jacket on the chair with his camera bag to convey the unmistakable message that this table was taken, and he went to the counter to order a coffee and pastry. He grabbed a newspaper out of the old wicker basket kept near the counter, part of an eco-friendly tradition of taking a handful of newspapers and making them available for everyone. Anyone throwing a newspaper in a trash bin was sure to draw disapproving stares.
Michael was determined to finish his coffee and pastry before Juliette arrived, so he could give the appearance of someone who had waited for her. Juliette breezed in shortly after three and held Michael’s undivided attention. She was wearing the same entrancing white blouse that had previously sparked his desire for her. As she spoke, Michael imagined lowering that blouse so it sat off her shoulders and exposed the perfectly shaped breasts that he knew far better than Juliette could have ever imagined.
As she spoke about her day, a topic that held utterly no interest for him, Michael imagined Juliette back on that massage table where he had first seen her with the help of his telephoto lens. But now, instead of Herb and his riding crop, there he stood in a terrycloth robe rubbing warm scented massage oils into the small of her back and up along her neck and shoulders. He gently kissed her and carried her off to a heart-shaped bed, where, after spending all their energy, they fell into a deep sleep wrapped in each other’s arms.
“Michael, are you listening to me? How soon can you have these pictures developed so I can take the ones I like with me to my interview next week at St. Patrick’s school up in Larkspur?”
“Oh, yes. Well, I could bring you some contact sheets that will allow you to see all sixty shots that I took today. We can review them together, say Saturday night after I get off work, and then I’ll print you copies of your favorites so you can have them to use whenever you want.”
“That would be wonderful. But I’m busy all weekend.”
“Really?”
“I’ve been seeing this wonderful guy for the past year, but he’s so busy during the week, we only have time to see each other over the weekend.”
Michael, of course, strongly suspected who this “wonderful guy” might be. But so strong were his feelings for Juliette that he pushed his suspicions aside and pushed ahead.
“Well, I was hoping I might have the chance to take you out some night.”
“You’re such a sweetie, but I’m a one-man woman. You know, you should meet, my teaching assistant Andrea. I’m sorry she wasn’t in class today. I think the two of you would really hit it off.”
Something clicked in Michael upon hearing those words, and he now saw Juliette, in spite of her radiant beauty, as completely untrustworthy. As if awakening from a stupor, he heard the wounded side of his personality shout, “She is never going to be interested in you. She is way out of your league.”
The time had come for him to wake up and recall that Juliette was nothing more than collateral damage on the way to taking down the true target of his hunt. She had one and only one purpose, and that was getting him a meeting with her sister’s husband. Nothing more than that!
“Michael, are you paying attention?” Juliette asked, as if she were talking to a daydreaming fourth grader.
“Oh, yes, yes, I am.”
“Why, you’re just like those boys in my class.”
Michael gave her a half smile and nodded benignly in agreement. “Sorry, I wasn’t paying attention,” he said promptly. “I’m also sorry if I made you feel uncomfortable. I certainly won’t do that again.”
Juliette knew by the sudden professional tone in Michael’s voice that he was not pleased by the fact that she had dismissed his desire to take their cordial relationship to the next level. This was simply an awkward moment that she needed to smile her way through. She did want those photos, and she already had time invested in getting them.
“Could we meet here next Monday at this time for coffee and you could
show me the contact sheets then?”
“Sure, that would work. I promised Walt that I’d stop by the camera shop around four, so I better get going. But I will see you here next Monday at three.”
With that, Michael thrust his hand forward. Juliette rose, took it, and knowing he was miffed, warmly said, “I hope you know how much I appreciate your help. You’ve been very generous with your time, and I’m looking forward to seeing those contact sheets.”
A couple of quick smiles, a few brief pleasantries, and the two went their separate ways. She, thinking how ridiculous he was to imagine she would consider going on a date with him; while he anticipated the look of panic on her face when she discovered among those contact sheets a half dozen photos of her at play with her sister’s husband.
Michael first printed the contact sheets showing all the photos he had taken of Juliette and her students. He allowed those sheets to dry and slipped them into an envelope, without pausing for a moment to take out his photographer’s loupe to consider which photos he would recommend for her portfolio. The pretense of the caring friend, after days of additional thought and reflection upon the deceptive nature of women, had been completely set aside. All his attention was now placed on the quality of prints he would present when next they met at the Depot. He thought about the look of horror that would come over her. Undoubtedly, her pain should go a good way to relieving what he viewed as his humiliation at her hands.
The week passed quickly. Juliette carefully chose a more subdued outfit for their second encounter. Wearing a dark blue skirt with a matching jacket and a soft blue cashmere turtleneck, she could have easily been mistaken for a bank branch manager. In fact, Michael recalled observing Shelia Grimes one afternoon wearing a similar outfit as she sat behind her desk at the Novato Savings Bank.
Michael began by taking out three contact sheets filled with images that were approximately one inch by one inch. Juliette struggled as she held each sheet up to the narrow beam of sunlight that was shining through a window behind their table.
“You wouldn’t happen to have one of those photographer’s, oh what do they call it?”
“Loupe, a photographer’s loupe. No, when I got here I realized I left mine back at the camera shop. But, no worries, you can hold up a magnifying glass to the images and do much the same thing. Just give me the page number and then the photo number and I’ll print out an eight by ten image for you. They’ll just be three dollars apiece, approximately what the developing chemicals and paper costs are for the shop.”
“Oh, okay,” Juliette replied, noticing all the kindness she had previously heard in Michael’s voice had vanished.
“I do have some eight by ten prints that I took of you a few weeks ago. I don’t think you’d want to show them to a prospective employer, but they’re great shots, and I know you’re going to want to share them with that wonderful guy you mentioned when we were here last week. They’re inside this same envelope,” Michael said, as he placed it face down. “They’re kind of personal, so when you take them out make sure there is no one looking over your shoulder.”
Confused and intimidated by what she had just heard, Juliette’s hand shook slightly as she reached inside the envelope. If Michael knew whom she was thinking of when she spoke of her wonderful guy, that alone was deeply troubling.
“You seem a little nervous, as though you have something to hide,” Michael said, channeling the joyful anticipation of a fox that had found its way into the hen house.
Juliette dismissed the anxious bolt that raced from the back of her neck down to the tip of her toes. Could he possibly know about her affair with her brother-in-law? Ridiculous, she insisted to herself, as she peeked at the top picture. The image of her orally pleasuring Herb made her gasp. She forced herself to peek at the two other photos, while keeping them safely tucked inside the envelope. One showed Herb standing over her with a raised riding crop, and the last showed them curled around each other, comfortably wrapped in plush white cotton robes, holding snifters of brandy, as if enjoying a relaxing afternoon at home. Nothing particularly troubling about this last image, if one set aside the fact that the man she’s sharing a post coital moment with was her sister’s husband.
The simple truth was, this was nothing short of a disaster, in more ways than she could imagine in a few fleeting moments. Feeling both confused and desperate, without uttering a word, Juliette got up from the table and walked into the plaza outside the coffee shop.
Carrying the envelope containing the contact sheets she had expected and the photographs she never imagined existed, she sat under a tree and stared at the ordinary lives that surrounded her. There were two old men engaged in a serious game of chess, as two of their contemporaries closely watched their every move. There were several children, younger than her fourth and fifth graders, playing a game of tag, and adults on various chairs and benches, enjoying a drink, a book, each other, and the abundant sunshine. At that moment, she would have traded places with any one of them.
Blood rushed to her heart as panic took hold of her. Quickly, her hands and feet became ice cold. At least for the moment, she could not hold in her mind a single thought that might offer her some salvation. Michael watched from a respectful distance. Even from where he stood, he could tell that she was overwhelmed. Slowly, he moved toward her and sat down on the opposite side of the bench.
“When you’re ready,” Michael said softly, “we need to talk.”
“I don’t know what to say, and I have no idea what to do.”
“Well, you know what they say; it’s always darkest before the dawn.”
“Why would you do this to me?”
“I think this is more a matter of what you and your wonderful guy did to your sister.”
“I suppose you’re enjoying this. But why would you want to ruin me, ruin Herb, ruin his marriage?”
“Juliette, this is just business for me. People like you and Herb do stupid things like this, and people like me benefit from your mistakes.”
“How do you mean benefit?”
“Money, Juliette.”
“What money do you think I have?”
“My God, you must be spending too much time around those students of yours. Not your money, your wonderful guy’s money.”
With a mixture of anger and humiliation flashing over her face, Juliette’s eyes turned cold, and in a low but furious tone she asked, “Then why come to me? If it’s money you want, shouldn’t you be making your deal with Herb?”
“I don’t know if this occurred to you, but you’re the only one I could approach. Suzette, your sister, would have likely gone nuclear when she saw these photos, can’t blame her for that, and Herb, well he’s such a big guy around town, why would he take a meeting with me? Juliette, you’re what a tactician would call, the soft underbelly of the beast.”
“So you’re using me to get to him?”
“There you go. You’re really not as innocent as you like to pretend.”
Juliette’s face turned red; one of the stages of anger and embarrassment that Michael was accustomed to by now. She desperately wanted to strike at her tormentor. Michael knew this and it delighted him. He felt ashamed to think he might have set all his good work aside if they had fallen into a relationship together. Never again would he allow himself to take his eye off the prize.
After a period of silence between them, Juliette looked in his direction and in a flat cold tone simply asked, “What should I tell Herb?”
“Tell him we’ve got a problem. Show him the photos I’ve got and let him know that these are only three images of more than a dozen. I’m looking for an interested party to take them off my hands, so I’m coming to him first. If he’s not interested, I’m sure there are others who are.”
“And…”
“Well, hopefully we can work out a deal. Obviously, there are many interested parties. Suzette, or her divorce attorney, some of Herb’s competitors, perhaps a political opponent, and certainly the Marin In
dependent Journal, are just some of the players who would highly value this work. It’s a helluva story. Herb, the likely candidate to win a seat on the county’s board of supervisors, the CEO of one of the county’s most successful businesses brought low by a tawdry sex scandal. What a disaster. I’m sure Herb and I will be able to work something out.”
“I hope you know that Herb has a dark side.”
“I think the photos I took show that pretty clearly.”
“He might want to kill you.”
“Couldn’t blame him for that, but don’t think this is at all new to me. The moment I go missing, or turn up dead, I have a pal who sends a fat package of photos to the editor at the Independent Journal. Now, on top of Herb’s marriage, business, and community standing being trashed, he’s facing a murder rap. Trust me, Juliette, you might not be the brightest bulb in the box, but your wonderful guy isn’t all that dumb. Here’s my card. Tell him he has seventy-two hours to reach out to me. After that, well, as they say, these photos will belong to the ages. And, honestly, you’ve only seen some of what I caught. That Herb of yours is one lucky guy to have you for a playmate.”
Juliette, a woman who took her faith seriously, might have put it all aside at that moment if she was holding a handgun and had any idea how to use it. The numbness had vanished from her extremities. She breathed deeply, reflected more objectively on the moment, and fantasized the delight she would feel seeing Michael sprawled on the ground gasping for one final breath.
“I’ll speak to him. I’m sure he’ll be in touch,” she said.
“Good, before you know it, you’ll be on top of that massage table, and he’ll be back in those cute little red bikini briefs, holding a riding crop, and ready to play.”
The anger prompted by his sadistic joy overwhelmed her and in a low growl she said, “I hope you burn in hell.”
“Well, I’m not sure if there is a hell. But if you’re right I’m sure you and Herb will be right there beside me.”