Taming Mariella (8 page)

Ian pressed his fists to his eyes, his voice raw with torment. “God, why him?” He let his hands fall then said in a flat dejected tone, “Forget it, I know why.”

“Ian.”

He stepped back and waved his hands as though warding off evil. “Don’t say anything. Right now I’m willing to believe any lie that you tell me.”

“I don’t lie.”

He seized a picture and shook it in front of her. “Then tell me what the hell this is.”

For once she wanted to explain, but didn’t know how. “It’s not what you think.”

“Oh no?” He raised his brows, surprised. “Should I read what’s on the back?”

Hot tears burned her eyes, but she refused to let them fall. “We were friends!” She scooped up the rest of the photos and threw them at him. They scattered like a deck of cards. “He was one of my best friends and he was dying and I wanted to make him happy, okay? That’s all. He was supposed to destroy them, so he deceived us both.” No longer able to meet his hard stare, Mariella fell to her knees and began to pick up the pictures, desperate for something to do.

“I want to believe you.”

She stood. “No, you don’t. Otherwise you would.” She turned on her heel and left. A few moments later Ian heard a door slam. He took a step forward to follow her then swore and spun around. He grabbed his briefcase and yanked the front door open, then slammed it so forcefully behind him the bang echoed down the corridor.

Mariella relaxed when she heard the door close. He was gone. She was safe again. For a while at least. She fell back on the bed, trying to grasp the shift in her life. But lying back only reminded her of the position she’d been in only moments before. She quickly sat up, wrapping the robe tight, but it didn’t help. Ian had left his invisible stamp on her and she knew it would be a while before it faded. But she couldn’t allow him to distract her.

Jeremiah had offered her the chance of a bright and profitable future. But he’d left behind a puzzle and he should have known her well enough to know that she hated puzzles. Especially those in human form. However, she had a chance to launch a new career and she would finish what Jeremiah started and no one would get in her way—not even his son.

Ian loved the silence of his darkroom. Some liked music; he liked the absence of sound, except the movement of liquid in the developing tank. He moved quickly but competently. He knew accuracy was the key to his trade. He could disappear in the darkness; he loved courting the shadows in his work and in his life. He did some editing on the computer, but to him nothing could replace the times he had spent in solitude developing his own pictures. Being alone hanging negatives, knowing instinctively which images would meet the world and which would be forgotten, gave him a high he couldn’t explain.

He used the room as a chance to get away from everything just as his dad had done. If his dad wasn’t with a lover, the darkroom was his other mistress. He’d let Josh and himself inside sometimes, and they’d sit quietly and watch him. It had been like magic at first. He’d seen how people looked at his dad and saw him as someone special but the “specialness” changed as Ian grew older, as stories of his father’s life reached the papers, as he spent more time with more important people than with them. Over time they’d stopped being a suitable audience.

Now he didn’t worry about that. No one could cast him aside. He liked the darkroom because he was in charge. He liked the ability to choose what to work on and what to discard. He liked to be in control. Things rarely surprised him in there, unlike real life.

Like the photos in Mariella’s place. He wanted to remove the sight of them from his mind but couldn’t. He’d been all around the world, dodging bullets and physical harm. He had a long scar on his side from a rebel who had attacked him because he hadn’t wanted his photograph taken, that few knew about. After years of living out of a suitcase and always being where the action was he’d never thought that staying still could be just as dangerous.

He should have known that running always kept you only one step ahead of your past, staying still allowed it to catch up with you and it was assaulting him with a vengeance that surprised him. He’d thought age would have hampered the past, made it less vicious. He’d thought his father’s death would have buried old pains, but they lingered and a few haunted him.

He shouldn’t have agreed to take over the magazine, but it seemed fate had stepped in. He should have stayed away. He didn’t belong here. He knew that and so did his father and yet when his father had asked him he’d said “Yes.” He’d only seen his father twice in those years before he died. His father never asked for him and he’d never bothered to see his father. They never had much to say to each other and he wasn’t good at pretense. Somehow it felt better that way. He didn’t feel any regret. His father was never alone and likely had Mariella to fill his lonely nights. She was the type of woman who could make a man’s nights very enjoyable.

He thought about her rendition of the Desire ad and his body responded just as fiercely as it had then. He swore. His father was a lucky SOB. Those pictures proved how lucky and they were a reminder for him to stay away. Dammit, he’d believed her once and she’d made him look like a fool when those pictures showed up. He couldn’t risk believing her again no matter how genuine she sounded. No matter how much he wanted to. Mariella was right. He couldn’t start an affair with his father’s mistress. He had too much damn pride—pride that wouldn’t allow him to trust her and be wrong again.

Ian left the darkroom and the realities of his life hit him. Sylvester, who had been waiting outside the door, rose to greet him. He heard his mother instructing his housekeeper, Lily, how to prepare Candy’s special meals. He made a mental note to give Lily a raise. The phone rang. Ian knew who the caller was and waited for the third ring before answering.

“Otis, she won’t speak to you yet. Give her space.”

“At least let me—”

“I’ll have her back to you in a few weeks as always.”

“I know, but—”

“Stop calling every two hours, you’re beginning to annoy me. Understand?”

“Yes,” Otis said quickly. “I’m sorry.” He hung up.

Ian returned the receiver then bypassed the living room and slipped into his study by a different staircase so that he wouldn’t have to talk to his mother, but in his office he found his brother looking over papers.

“What do you want?” he said.

Josh glanced up from the papers. “You got her to sign the contract?” he said, stunned.

“Yes, I told you.”

“You told me ‘It’s done’ then hung up. How did it go?”

Ian sat behind his desk. “I just told you.”

“No, you didn’t. I know you got her to sign, but did she make any special demands?”

“She tried.”

“What did she say about the pictures?”

“Said they were none of our business.”

“I knew it.”

Ian studied him then said, “Did you also know that Dad gave her my photographs?”

“What photographs?”

“You know the ones,” he said quietly.

An acknowledgment of awareness came over his face. “No, I didn’t know. It must have been more serious than we thought.”

“She didn’t even know they were mine.”

“It was a harmless deception, he probably thought you’d never find out.”

“Or perhaps he expected me to.”

“How?”

“I don’t know.” He abruptly stood and walked into the family room adjacent to his office. He sank into a leather couch and Sylvester lay at his feet.

Josh sank into a chair facing him. “Maybe we’re missing something.”

“None of this makes sense. He forces me to use an inexperienced photographer to complete a major project, gives her my photographs and led everyone to believe that she was his mistress, and she denies she was ever one.”

“It is weird,” Josh agreed. “Why would she deny it? All the evidence points to the fact that she was. She didn’t care what people assumed before. She’s up to something and I think I know what it is.”

“What?”

“She wants you.”

Sylvester’s growl interrupted Ian’s reply. Both men looked up and saw Candy standing in the doorway wearing a purple bow and sequined jacket.

Ian pointed at the little dog. “No.”

She made a little sound of protest, but Ian stared at her until she lay down, her head resting on her front paws.

Josh shook his head. “Why won’t you let her come in? She’s cute.”

“She’s ridiculous.”

“That’s not her fault.”

Ian shrugged.

Josh rubbed his jaw thoughtfully. “She reminds me of Mariella.”

“What do you mean?”

“She knows the Cooper with the power.” Josh stood. “I’d be careful and keep my guard up around her.” He passed by Candy and gave her a quick pat on the head then left.

Ian flipped on the TV, knowing that somehow Mariella had already penetrated his shield.

“Did you say thank you?” Gen said as she and Mariella sat in the living room with Ian’s three photos on the coffee table.

“Did I say what?”

Gen sent her a look. “Mariella.”

Mariella kept her voice neutral, while trying to erase what had happened earlier. “I was doing him a favor. He was just going to throw them away.”

Gen lifted one eyebrow, surprised. “But they are so beautiful.”

“I know.”

“So you have to thank him.”

“Why? They were a gift from Jeremiah.”

“But now you know who they really belonged to. I think you should thank him in person.”

Mariella stared at her. “Absolutely not. Do you know who we are talking about?”

“Yes, and while he is not one of my favorite people, it would be good manners.”

“I’ll send an e-mail.”

“No, you’ll send a card.” Gen went to her room then came back with a decorated box with a wide selection to choose from. Mariella shifted through them, then picked up one showing a rainy scene.

“But that’s dark,” Gen protested.

“He likes dark.”

“What are you going to say?”

“I’ll think of something.”

“Try to be polite.”

Gen’s idea wasn’t bad. She’d thank him and send him a message too. A message he couldn’t ignore.

She grinned. “Of course.”

A
couple days later, Ian received a card at his office. He stared at it for a while because he wasn’t used to receiving cards aside from the holidays. He knew from the return address that it was from Mariella. Her large, bold handwriting took up nearly half of the front of the envelope. Just as he was about to open it an important call came through and for the rest of the day work took precedence.

At home, a large basket of flowers arrived for his mother, who promptly wanted to get rid of them. She went on a tirade about men’s oppressiveness; Sylvester nipped Candy for trying to eat out of his bowl and then Shirley became hysterical although Candy was unharmed. Late that night in his bedroom Ian finally had a chance to open the card. He sat on the edge of his bed and tapped the unopened envelope against his palm. What game was Mariella up to?

He looked at Sylvester who lay curled up in his bed. “What do you think this is?”

Sylvester yawned.

Ian nodded. “Yes, you’re right. It’s no big deal.” He opened the envelope and pulled out the card and pieces of a picture fell to the floor. He gathered it up, then read the note inside. “To illusions.”

Ian smiled at the pieces in his hand, knowing full well which picture it had been. So she was saying that it was an illusion. It was a risky move on her part; he didn’t trust easily and he knew more about why he had to hire her than she did. However, his father had been a magician behind the lens. With a trick of the light or the right angle he could show what he wanted people to see, instead of what was real. Ian weighed the pieces in his hand. “You win, Duvall,” he said with reluctant admiration.

Sylvester growled.

Ian didn’t look up. “Candy, go away.”

He heard a squeaky toy drop.

Ian glanced at her. “You have this entire house. Why do you want to come here?”

She didn’t move.

He dumped the pieces of the photo in the trash and walked over to Candy. She began to wiggle with excitement until she couldn’t contain it anymore and began to jump up and down.

“Calm,” he said.

She instantly sat still although her tail continued to wag wildly.

Ian bent down and took off a frilly night robe Shirley had put on her. “All right, come on.” He stood and began to turn but she didn’t move. She looked up at him and then the robe.

“I don’t believe this. You want this?” He lifted up the robe and her tail wagged faster. “You are demented.” He replaced the robe. “Now come on.” He pointed at her. “And if you think I’m tucking you in, you might as well leave now.” He tossed a fluffy dog pillow on the floor. “Go to sleep.”

Candy began to walk toward Sylvester’s bed, but he growled and she thought better of it and climbed onto the pillow. Ian picked up Mariella’s card and tapped his chin. Josh didn’t trust her, his mother thought she was crazy, but he didn’t care. There was more to Mariella than anyone knew and he planned to find out.

The next couple of weeks everything moved quickly. Mariella met with Ian and Josh on several occasions to discuss and review the details of the project. While not always in agreement, Mariella was not her usual self at the meetings, which made both Josh and Ian a little suspicious. She did not argue or emphasize her point; instead, for the most part she remained silent. What was she up to?

Once the specifics had been decided, the schedule for the various photo shoots to include Georgia and Vermont were finalized.

With only two days before having to fly to Atlanta, Mariella and Gen’s schedule was filled with taking care of stopping their mail and paper delivery, canceling their maid cleaning service and rescheduling other appointments until after the end of the project, which would not be finished until winter. Gen made all the flight arrangements while Mariella focused on the specifics of the project, and gave requirements to Gen about the models and assistants she would need on hand at each location.

Josh was responsible for making all the final arrangements and after several run-ins with Mariella, for his lack of paying attention to detail, asked for Gen’s help in meeting all of Mariella’s requirements.

The first assignment was scheduled in Atlanta, Georgia. On a dreary overcast day with a hint of rain in the skies in mid-autumn, Gen and Mariella boarded a plane and arrived in Atlanta. When traveling in public, which was always first class, Mariella was dressed incognito with a large-brim hat, dark glasses and a large shawl. While she was used to being recognized and gawked at, she was in no mood for uninvited fans coming up to her and asking for her autograph.

However, during their flight, their notoriety had not gone unnoticed, and even the pilot and co-pilot had personally introduced themselves. Once on the ground, they were greeted at the gate by the chauffeur of the limousine service Josh had engaged. He was a smartly dressed young man, holding up a sign that read Ms. M and Ms. G. Mariella, in her customary manner, pointed to the porter, coming up behind them pushing a large cart with their luggage and equipment.

At the hotel, Gen took care of the registration, while Mariella instructed several hotel bellboys to take her luggage and belongings to their room. Upon entering the suite, Mariella continued giving orders about which items needed to be put where and the care that must be taken with her photography equipment. Gen, on the other hand, was busy looking at the large gift basket that greeted them in the hallway. It was filled with an assortment of herbal teas, honey and honey dipper, pretzels, sesame crackers, smoked salmon, Camembert cheese spread and sweets.

“Mariella, look at this.”

“I wonder why they’re treating us this well.”

“They have the money.”

“That’s not the point. Photographers don’t usually get this kind of treatment.”

Gen opened a sweet and popped it in her mouth. “Who cares? You should try one.”

“Gen, I can’t think of food right now. I need to freshen up.” They had only half an hour to get settled in their room, before meeting with Josh. After changing into a more relaxed outfit, consisting of a cotton wrapped skirt and fitted T-shirt, Mariella rang the front desk to get the room number for Josh. While both suites were located in the private penthouse section of the hotel, Josh’s suite was on the very top. As they exited the elevator, Gen said, “Mariella, will you need me this afternoon? I mean, I know what you’re like when you are getting ready for a shoot. Besides, you will probably be busy and I was wondering…”

“You want to have some time with Josh.” They approached the door and she knocked. “We’ll see.” Josh opened the door dressed for fun. He was wearing a caramel spun-cotton crew-neck short-sleeve top with matching khaki pants and leather loafers. He directed Gen and Mariella to a small study area off the living room.

“The view from here is fabulous,” Gen said excitedly, as she looked out on the panoramic view his suite afforded. They could see some of Atlanta’s tallest buildings, mostly grouped in the downtown area including the Georgia World Congress Center, Georgia Dome, CNN Center, Centennial Olympic Park and the Atlanta Contemporary Art Center. “My, how the city has changed since we visited it last,” Gen said.

“When was that?” Josh asked.

“A long time ago, when my dad brought us here for a visit.”

“Can we get down to business?” Mariella said. “We’re not here on vacation, or at least, I’m not.”

Josh pulled out a large binder with all the specifics Mariella would need for the first shoot. True to her style, Gen knew that at this point, the best thing for her and Josh to do would be to leave Mariella to do what she needed. Mariella picked up the binder. “Do you have the contact information for the talent agency?”

“Yes,” Josh said. “I’ve contacted the head of the agency, Donna, to let her know you will be contacting her today.”

“I’ll take these back to my suite.” She looked directly at Josh. “Gen will be available later. Right now we have work to do.” After briefly reviewing the specifications back in their hotel room, Gen and Mariella took a taxi to meet with the agency.

At the Donna Anderson Agency, Mariella and Gen waited in the office while Donna completed a prior schedule. Donna was a bulldoglike woman with frizzy brown hair and cat-shaped glasses known for being vicious with her remarks. She prided herself on her forthrightness. She was not an attractive woman, but she didn’t have to be. She had power. When Mariella walked into her office she heard Donna shouting at a model.

“Why does Okolo Samit keep sending these cows to me? Have you looked at yourself? You have fat hanging all around your middle. Honey, get out of modeling and become an actor. They have things called ‘cattle calls’ and you’ll fit right in.”

The reed-thin girl raced past Mariella in tears.

“Do you have to be so harsh?” Gen asked.

Donna turned to her ready to give her a harsh reply then censored her words in case they were possible business contacts. “It’s better to be harsh now than having her sit at home waiting for a photo shoot that will never happen. What do you want?”

“We’re here about the
Flash
photo shoot,” Gen said.

“Oh, yeah. I’ve got a few girls in mind.”

“But we’d agreed to hold an open call,” Mariella said.

“We’ll do that too, maybe. Give me a few minutes then we’ll get to business.” She turned to her assistant. “Call in the next one.”

Another girl entered with more confidence than the last.

Donna looked her over. “Her breasts are uneven. Get me someone symmetrical. I’m not trying to sell a Picasso painting.” She pointed at the girl. “Get those fixed and I’ll be able to use you. Next!”

Watching Donna brought back the harshness of the business for both Gen and Mariella. Being attractive wasn’t enough. You had to be photogenic and have perfect bone structure. A job could fall through for no reason. You could be hot one moment and not the next. A world that showed such glamour had an underbelly of drug use, eating disorders, cold agents, money problems and fierce competition.

At last Donna had completed her strange weeding out process and sat down with Mariella and Gen at a small round table set off to the side.

“Heard you were dropped from Desire,” she said to Mariella. “Anti-aging is still big. We could have you sell facial creams.”

“I’m not interested.”

“Probably best. Blacks don’t sell anti-aging creams well.” She turned to Gen. “It’s like having you sell eye shadow,” she said referring to Gen’s nonexistent upper lid.

When Mariella opened her mouth to reply, Gen quickly rested her hand on her arm to stop her.

Donna continued talking. “You know if you considered surgery you might get your career back on track. Get those eyes widened and you could pass for say Native American or Latina. With your skin tone you could pass for a lot of things and that will work in your favor. I’m not making any promises, but you can think about it.”

“Right,” Gen said.

“We didn’t come here as models,” Mariella said, trying desperately to hold back what she really wanted to say.

Donna shrugged. “Hey, just in case the photography thing doesn’t go as you plan, I’m just laying out some options.”

“Well, I think your options—”

“Are something we’ll think over,” Gen finished, sending Mariella a pleading look.

“You do that,” Donna said. “Now I’ll take care of the hiring and paperwork. You can leave everything to me. You’re just the photographer. I was hired to get the models for you.” She smiled without warmth or sincerity. “Think of yourself as the technicians.”

“Fire her,” Mariella said to Josh as he finished his lunch.

Josh stared at her with his sandwich halfway to his mouth. “What?”

“You heard me. She has to go.”

“Who?”

“Donna Anderson. I will not work with her. Is that clear?”

“But Ian said—”

“Then he’ll have to work with her because I will not.” She stormed away.

Josh lowered his sandwich, his appetite gone, then picked up the phone. He dialed Ian’s number and when he picked up said, “You’d better get down here fast.”