The Money Shot

by Glenn Dier

  “By the way, I’ve never liked Warren Zevon. We were both living a lie.” Roxanne vanished.

  “You bitch,” he whispered.

  •

  Janice rapped on the apartment door for the second time.

  “Hello.”

  No response. She knocked again, more loudly than before.

  “Open up, Sebastian. I know you’re in there. Your car is outside.”

  The door opened but came up solid against the security chain. “Go away,” said a mousy voice. “Leave me alone.”

  “Let me in. I just want to make sure you’re okay.”

  “You’re hearing me,” said Sebastian, “so you know I’m alive. Misery does not love company at the moment.”

  “I brought something to cheer you up.” Janice passed a magazine through the crack.

  The door closed. Janice heard the chain sliding out of the track. The open door revealed a sour Sebastian holding a Victoria’s Secret catalogue.

  “Very funny.”

  “It’s a reminder there are plenty of fish in the sea. And some of them dress like that.”

  “I don’t feel like fishing at the moment.”

  “You’re worse off than I thought. This requires an intervention. Can I come in?”

  Sebastian stepped back. Janice spied empty Chinese food tubs stacked on the kitchen counter and beer bottles by the garbage can. Sections of the New York Times lay strewn across the coffee table and one hung over a sofa arm.

  “I love what you’ve done to the place.”

  “Did you say intervention or imposition?”

  Janice brushed the stubble on his face, making a bristle sound.

  “Did you break your razor?”

  “I have no close-ups today. Shaving can wait.”

  “It looks quite good on you, actually. I could get used to a beard.”

  Sebastian pulled two beer out of the fridge and held them up. Janice shook her head so he put one back. The kitchen clock said 12:10.

  “If I make it to noon before the first beer,” said Sebastian, “I consider it an alcohol free day.”

  Janice laughed. Sebastian popped the cap off his Steam Whistle and took a swig.

  “Why are you here, Janice?”

  “To talk some sense into you. It’s time for you to end your period of confinement.”

  “I’m not pregnant, I’m depressed.”

  “Stop whining. You’re better off without her. She’d only hold you back. Endless family dinners, kids puking up on you, a house with a swing set, summers at the cottage, a career steeped in the mundane. Goodbye Beijing. Goodbye Jerusalem.”

  Sebastian pointed the longneck of his beer at Janice. “You’re the reason she threw me out.”

  “Me! That’s rich. Did you really think you could fuck anyone you wanted and Roxanne would say, ‘That’s okay, honey, a man has his needs.’ ”

  “She wasn’t supposed to find out.”

  “I guess some of your investigative skill rubbed off on her.”

  “I love her,” pined Sebastian.

  “It’s amazing you can say that without the slightest embarrassment.”

  Sebastian slammed the bottle down on the kitchen counter. “I do love her.”

  “Stop pretending. This has more to do with rejection than love. A piece of you is wounded alright—your ego. Stop crying in your beer. She did you a favour. She didn’t just throw you out; she threw you into a life raft. You would have drowned, taken down by the maelstrom of matrimony.”

  “Nothing comes without struggle and sacrifice. It was the perfect arrangement. And while you might not see its virtues, I certainly do. I’d like to get it back.”

  Sebastian’s phone vibrated. He snatched it off the counter. Puzzlement tramped across his face.

  “It’s a text from Roxanne’s mother. She wants to meet me.”

  “Don’t go. It will not end well.”

  “I have to know what she wants.”

  “Save what’s left of your dignity and tell her no.”

  “Penelope could be the emissary. Maybe Roxanne realizes that she went too far. Penelope might have an olive branch.”

  “Careful she doesn’t slap your face with it,” said Janice.

  •

  Sebastian leafed through a copy of Around Town. The irony wasn’t lost on him. He hadn’t been anywhere in days, much less around town. He was living the life of a hermit. No live bands, no artists’ openings, no film festivals, no dating, and no sex. A more appropriate masthead would have been Celibate & Cloistered.

  “Would you like to…oh, it’s you,” said the waitress, lowering her order pad.

  “A latte, please.”

  “Let me guess, no Snoopy.”

  “If it’s not too much trouble.”

  “I’m sure we can manage a fern.”

  Sebastian used the newspaper as a screen, hiding from the café hubbub. His eye stopped at the sex column: Carnal Counsellor.

  Dear Carnal,

  My boyfriend cheated on me with several women. He’s begging me to take him back. He’s a louse of a person, but great in bed.

  What do you think?

  Having Second Thoughts

  #####################

  Dear Having Second Thoughts,

  The guy is pond scum. Forget him. There are men who are both great in bed and faithful. Hold out for one of those.

  “Hello, Sebastian.”

  Sebastian jerked the paper shut. Prudish Penelope hovered over him. Sebastian jumped to his feet, but was uncertain how to greet her. In times past, he would have kissed her cheek. Given the circumstances, it might appear too familiar. He considered a handshake. Too standoffish for a woman he used to kiss. He opted for a simple gesture.

  “Please, sit down,” he said, pointing at the empty seat. Penelope laid an office envelope on the placemat as she pulled out the chair.

  Sebastian heard a cup and saucer rattling. A shaky hand carried his coffee; the waitress had an exaggerated tremble. He imagined the cup wobbling off the saucer into his lap, so he laid the newspaper on his pants for protection. The caffeine calamity veered off at the last moment and touched down safely on the table.

  “I’m so nervous,” said the waitress. “It’s not every day we get a TV celebrity in here.” She took out her pad and pen with rock solid hands. “Would you like anything, Ma’am?”

  “No, thank you. I won’t be staying long.” Penelope, ever discreet, waited until the waitress left. “No hot chocolate today?”

  Sebastian brought his knees together. He hadn’t expected cheekiness, but he remained stoic. “Penelope, I’d like to sort some things out.”

  “Me too.”

  “Roxanne has made a terrible mistake. She thinks I’ve cheated on her. I never have.”

  Penelope appeared unconvinced. Sebastian continued to tap dance.

  “This is all a simple misunderstanding.”

  The group at the next table burst into rowdy laugher as if they were in on the fraud.

  “I can explain everything if she’d only see me, but she won’t even answer my messages.”

  “This is exactly why I’ve come,” said Penelope. “There certainly has been a misunderstanding.”

  Sebastian relaxed. The cream puff on the menu wasn’t the only one in the café.

  “The message is just not getting through,” said Penelope.

  The barista purged the steam wand on the espresso machine. A scalding hiss whistled through the café clatter.

  Penelope leaned in. “I want to be perfectly clear.”

  The barista frothed milk in a steel pitcher. The whirlpool created a sucking sound.

  “Leave… my… daughter… alone.”

  “What?”

  The barista banged the pitcher on the counter three times. Milk bubbles popped. So did Sebastian’s cockiness.

  “Stop sending Roxanne messages. Cut all attempts at contact. Disappear from her life.”

  “I don’t understand,” said Sebastian. Pru
dish Penelope showed none of her usual persona—the doting matriarch who said things like, ‘Sebastian, you’re so funny,’ ‘Sebastian, you look handsome,’ ‘Sebastian, come sit by me.’ He didn’t recognize her.

  “I had hoped you would go away quietly. But you ignored the warnings.”

  “What warnings?” huffed Sebastian.

  Penelope untied the string on the envelope and folded the flap back. She pulled out a piece of glass the size of a fingernail and laid it in front of Sebastian. He used his thumb and forefinger to hold it up to the sunlight streaming through the window. The clue was lost on him.

  A second dive into the envelope produced a lipstick tube. Penelope removed the cap and turned the base. A scarlet bullet poked up. She placed the upright tube next to the glass fragment. Sebastian’s eyes still flickered bafflement.

  The envelope of tricks rustled as Penelope yanked out a photo and slid it across the table with her fingertips. He tilted the glossy print to get a better look. Sebastian and the eight by ten stared at each other. The photo said DOES ROXANNE KNOW ABOUT YOUR SECRET LOVE?

  The barista yelled, “Our latte art special today is The Scream.”

  “You,” said a flabbergasted Sebastian. “Why?”

  “Because you cheated on my daughter.”

  “You’re wrong, Penelope.” Sebastian drew in a breath for more distortions, half-truths and outright fabrications.

  “Stop the lies,” barked Penelope. “I’ve been on to you since your fling with the redhead in Paradise Point. A friend in the bar tipped me off. I had a text before you and the harlot were out the door.”

  Sebastian stiffened. “That’s your proof—a text from a gossip in a bar.”

  “I was inclined to give the benefit of the doubt, but then Roxanne just happened to mention seeing you hug a redhead in the CBC lobby. I decided you needed scrutiny.”

  Penelope pulled more photos out of the envelope and shook them at Sebastian. “At least the redhead had good taste in clothes, even if she couldn’t keep them on. But Janice Stone, she dresses like the skank that she is.”

  Sebastian snatched the photos. He and Janice were in full lust outside her apartment—torrid embraces and deep kisses.

  “You took these?”

  “A private investigator. You must have been so grief stricken after Garrison’s funeral that you lost your senses. What else could possibly explain tonguing Jezebel on her doorstep? What is it you reporters call this—the money shot?”

  Sebastian touched the piece of glass. “You broke my headlight.”

  “Shocking isn’t it, what some people will do for money,” said Penelope.

  “You put your daughter’s name on a billboard.”

  “Yes, that was a bit rash. But one doesn’t think straight when one’s blood is boiling. You ignored the lipstick. I couldn’t arrange a voice in a burning bush. A digital billboard seemed the next best thing. By the way, you get full marks for ingenuity, distracting Roxanne the way you did. Well done.”

  Penelope stacked the photos. “Roxanne hasn’t seen the photos, but she will, if necessary. I’ll give her the mettle to resist you. I’ll hurt her to save her.” Penelope turned away. “And I’ll hurt her to save myself.”

  Sebastian looked confused. “Excuse me?”

  “I was smitten with you, Sebastian. I tried to deny it. I tried to fight it. I couldn’t. You didn’t just break Roxanne’s heart, you broke mine too.”

  Sebastian fell back. “The cougar and the cub loved me.”

  “I could stand aside for Roxanne, but not for the tarts. Those sluts destroyed our relationship.”

  “We never had a relationship,” argued Sebastian.

  “You’re right, we didn’t have sex,” said Penelope. Sebastian shuddered. “But you touched my soul. I adore your wit, your intelligence, the way your hair curls, and God forgive me, those engorged chest muscles. You only had to be faithful to Roxanne in order for us to have spiritual love. But your libido got in the way. You couldn’t keep it in your pants, could you? You ruined everything.”

  “Make things right with Roxanne and I promise to be a new man. It can be the way it was.”

  “How gullible do you think I am?”

  “Make things right with Roxanne or I’ll tell her what you told me, every salacious detail of your forbidden love.”

  “That’s the Sebastian I’ve come to know and loathe. She’d never believe you and I’d deny it. Besides, you’re forgetting about the photos. If you don’t leave without a trace, these tawdry pictures will be delivered to every CBC email account in the country. I already have the addresses. There are some perks to being married to a CBC vice-president.”

  Penelope pushed her chair back and stepped away. Sebastian stayed sitting, his pretend chivalry exhausted.

  “You can keep the photos,” said Penelope. “I have plenty of copies.”

  •

  Dumped. Humiliated. Blackmailed.

  The abuse ends today.

  Sebastian had been ordered to The Executioner’s office. The summons came on official CBC stationery, signed by Alicia Gorski, Regional Director. Sebastian peered through a newsroom window. No gallows erected yet, but he’d swing at high noon. That is, if he let them. He threw the letter into the garbage can.

  “What’s going to happen?” asked Janice.

  “They’ll give me a fair trial and then they’ll hang me. They want a scapegoat. They blame me for Ethan being run out of town.”

  “Don’t you think they might be right about that,” suggested Janice.

  “Comme ci, comme ça.”

  Sebastian held up his iPhone. “I’ve been working on a commemorative scrapbook.” He touched a scissors icon and then a photo of Ethan Tremblay on the Here & Now set. The photo peeled back and music started.

  “There’s a Warren Zevon tune for every occasion.” Sebastian sang along.

  Dry your eyes, my little friend,

  Let me take you by the hand.

  Photos of Ethan floated through the screen, along with headlines culled from newspapers and websites.

  Laughing Ethan. Here & Now Anchor Offends Everybody

  Apathetic Ethan. Anti-Tremblay Alliance Demands Apology

  Irate Ethan. Anchor pleads innocence: ‘I’ve been set up.’

  Contrite Ethan. CBC Host says ‘I’m sorry.’

  Gloomy Ethan. Signing Off: Tremblay Resigns

  “Photo manipulation can be such fun,” said Sebastian.

  Look around, my little friend.

  Jubilation in the land.

  “I’m not going down, Janice. They forget. I’m an excitable boy.”

  When Johnny strikes up the band.

  Sebastian turned up the volume on the guitar solo and listened until the final notes died away. The time was 12:05.

  “The Executioner hates tardiness,” said Sebastian. “She should be sufficiently galled by now.”

  “Be evil,” said Janice, with none of the usual frivolity. “I like that in a man.”

  Sebastian rehearsed his lines one last time. They would be his armour. The door to The Executioner’s office was open. Alicia Gorski was flanked by Evan Forbes and Ruth Jazmin, the human resources manager. All three had their hands folded on Alicia’s oak desk.

  And to think I accused Roddy of being a trained monkey. See no evil, hear no evil, speak no evil.

  A lonely chair waited for Sebastian. “Nice to see that it doesn’t have wrist and ankle straps.”

  “Thank you for coming, Sebastian,” said Alicia, “though maybe it’s best to leave the absurdity outside. We could have gone on without you, but it’s better that you’re here. You’re allowed union representation if you wish.”

  Sebastian waved off the suggestion.

  “I’ll recap the reasons for this disciplinary hearing. You made confidential matters public without authorization and you engaged in conduct contributing to workplace violence.” Evan and Ruth nodded gravely.

  “Proof,” snorted Sebastian.

/>   Alicia swung the monitor arm so Sebastian could see. “The IT department loves a challenge and you certainly gave it to them.”

  Sebastian watched the notorious YouTube video of Ethan’s mock headlines.

  “A girl can change her mind. A transgender activist sticks with the bird in the bush.”

  Ruth puckered her lips. Evan cleared his throat. Alicia’s body constricted before she hit pause.

  “IT ran the video through software capable of analyzing individual pixels,” said Alicia. Sebastian leaned forward. “It could see dots on top of dots, and take away the dots we didn’t want.”

  The screenshot dissolved to reveal a faint image. Hair, forehead, eyes, hands holding an iPhone. Sebastian’s camera had caught his own reflection.

  “That’s incredible technology,” said Sebastian. “Does CSI know about this?” Ruth threw up her hands.

  “Sebastian, this is serious,” snarled Alicia. “Do you have anything to say?”

  “Anchors shouldn’t say stupid things into a microphone.”

  “You would know that better than most,” said Alicia.

  “We’re suspending you for a week without pay, starting today,” said Ruth. “And you’ll write a letter of apology to Ethan Tremblay. If you refuse, you’ll be terminated.”

  Sebastian pulled an iPhone out of his pocket. His fingers strutted across the screen. “You might want to rethink that.” He kept typing.

  Alicia slapped her desk. “We’re not negotiating here.”

  “I’ll take the suspension, but as for the apology, and I mean this in the nicest possible way, Ethan Tremblay can go fuck himself.”

  Ruth leapt to her feet. “We’re done here.”

  Sebastian finally lifted his eyes. “If you fire me, who will tell the loyal Here & Now viewers about the premier’s cocaine addiction?”

  Ruth sat down. Both she and Alicia turned to Evan. “What the hell are you talking about?” asked Evan.

  “She’s a coke head.”

  Evan the jurist transformed into Evan the executive producer. “You’ve said that before, but didn’t have a scintilla of proof. I don’t suppose you have a Rob Ford-like video, do you?”

  “Actually I do. I have tape of her buying cocaine from a known drug dealer.”