Trapped (14 page)

Chapter

Luke

I went back to my new studio the day after the big pow-wow that we had with Dalilah’s mom, dad, Nick and Scotty. Although I had that whole mess hanging over my head, I had to put my nose to the grindstone. Dalilah brought it home to me when she said that a judge was going to decide the best interest of the child according to income – my income relative to Nottingham’s. While I had the feeling it wasn’t even going to come to that – who won this battle would be whomever decided to blink first – on the off-chance that this whole mess
would
be decided by a judge, I felt that I had to get my ass in gear.

And, even if the whole mess didn’t, in fact, get decided by a judge, I still wanted to get going. Because, no matter what happened, there was going to be a baby in about six more months. In six months, I would be a dad. And I had to provide not only for Dalilah, but also for Olivia. Olivia would be the baby’s name, assuming that the baby was a she – Dalilah was scheduled the following week to go in for her first sonogram that would be able to tell the sex of the baby.

For my part, I really hoped that the baby was a girl, for no other reason than the fact that I would have loved to honor my mother with my daughter’s name. Of course, I would be happy either way, really.

I was feeling the pressure, for sure. I was still hustling for commissions for myself, and I was also working like hell with the rest of my cooperative in publicizing our upcoming major fund-raiser, which would happen the week after next. So far, the fund-raiser was going to go well, even if it would still be nothing compared to my
Matthew Jane
premiere. We were able to attract attention of a lot of the more minor players in the art world, which was a good thing.

What I wouldn’t give, however, for just one of the heavy hitters that attended my premiere to give our cooperative a chance. We would be well on our way if that were the case.

Then, one day that week, the most unexpected thing imaginable happened.

The day started just like any other.
I had gotten into a nice routine of spending about two hours every day composing, about four hours a day helping the cooperative publicize the upcoming fund raiser, and another three hours a day hustling for private commissions. I figured that, since I had a lot of artwork that had, thus far, gone unsold, which meant that I already had a good portfolio, I was better off actually working on the marketing end of my business as opposed to the composing end.

These were long days, but I felt like I was getting somewhere. And that was important, because parting with that initial investment of $20,000 hurt bad. But everybody was cool and hard-working, and there were some massive talents in the cooperative, so I knew that it wouldn’t be long until I was making a good income.

The only thing was that I was, essentially, facing a deadline. By the time Olivia came, I felt like I had to have enough money saved up to move out of Serena’s home. That was important to me – I had to provide a good home for Dalilah and the baby.

I never even permitted myself to think that Dalilah and I could possibly lose custody to Nottingham. I always assumed that we, as the good guys, were going to win.

My life, aside from worrying and stressing about the entire Nottingham thing, was focused. Laser focused on getting ahead.

So, when I got my unexpected visitor that day, I was shocked. And very pleased.

I was working on a painting
when JJ told me that I had somebody there to see me.

“I’ll be right there,” I said.

“No,” JJ said. “I think that you probably shouldn’t keep this person waiting.”

I rolled my eyes. “I’m right in the middle of something. I’m kinda on a roll.”

“Trust me,” JJ said. “You want to talk to this person.”

Argh! “Okay,” I said, following her out. “This better be good.”

“It is,” she said. “I promise.”

I followed her out the lobby of our building, and, standing there, in the flesh, was Henry Jacobs.

I gulped, feeling mixed emotions upon seeing him. I hated him, of course, because he destroyed Dalilah. Yet, I also knew that he was a king-maker, so the mercenary in me was more than happy to see him. I had no idea why he was there, or why he was coming specifically to see me, but I was encouraged that he was there.

“Hello,” I said, shaking his hand. “I’m Luke Roberts. I understand that you’re here to see me?”

“Yes,” Henry said. He was short, about 5’6”, balding, with glasses. His posture was slightly hunched. He was very well-dressed, from the shine of his black shoes to the perfectly tailored suit with the little pink handkerchief placed strategically in his jacket pocket. “Mr. Roberts, my name is Henry Jacobs. I’m the lead critic for the
New York Times,
and I was at your premiere back in December. Can we go someplace and talk?”

“Certainly,” I said. “Would you like to come back to my studio?”

“I most certainly would,” he said. “I’m very interested in your current work. I understand that this cooperative is having a fund-raiser in a few weeks, and I would like for it to be well attended.”

I cocked my head, wondering if I was dreaming the entire thing. Henry Jacobs sought me out? After he ignored me in his article about my show, choosing to focus completely on the other two artists who were displaying with me that night? What the hell was going on?

The little man followed me through the maze that led to my studio. Once he got there, he went through my paintings, one by one. He didn’t say a word, but I saw him nodding his head several times.

He finally looked at me. “Mr. Roberts, I owe you an apology, so I wanted to deliver it in person. I was at your premiere at the
Matthew Jane.
I found your work exquisite, and I recognized that you were an important artist in the making. But I ignored you in my review of your
Matthew Jane
showing. I would like to rectify that by helping you get the word out about your upcoming fundraiser. I would also like to write a review of your work that you are going to show at your fundraiser. So, please select your most representative paintings for this show.”

I was in shock, to be honest. I had no clue that Henry Jacobs even still had me on his radar. “Thank you very much, Mr. Jacobs. I don’t know what to say.”

He kind of nodded. “You don’t have to thank me. I am just trying to correct an injustice. I’ll see you at your fundraiser.”

And, just like that, he was gone.

I walked out to see JJ, feeling that I was in an absolute daze. “Henry Jacobs is going to be at our fundraiser. And he said that he would like to help get the word out about it.”

JJ leaped up in the air. “Whoop!” she said. “Oh my god! Oh my god! Oh.my.god!” She started dancing around the room and shaking her ample hips. “I can’t believe it. How did you manage that?”

“Well,” I said. “That huge showing I had in December? He didn’t write me up, at all. In his review of that show, he completely ignored me. The reason why he came to see me today was that he thought that his ignoring me in that review was an injustice that he wanted to correct. That’s probably the craziest thing in the world, huh? I mean, the lead critic for the
New York Times
slumming with us?” I started laughing.

I went to call Dalilah, but then thought better of it. She might not take too kindly to Henry Jacobs being at my fundraiser and publicizing it, considering what he did to her. I finally just decided to tell her when I got home. She might not like it, emotionally, but, rationally, I knew that she would be happy.

It felt like, once again, things might be looking up for me.

But, then again, it felt like that before. I got the rug pulled out from under me that time, and I was afraid that it would happen again. So, I couldn’t be overly confident.

I still felt, though, that I had a second chance to make my mark. And I was going to make the most of it.

  `

Chapter

Dalilah

I was so stressed out that I was worried about my health, and the health of the baby. My mind was constantly going a mile a minute, trying to anticipate what was about to happen. I felt, however, that I needed something to take my mind off of all of it, so I decided to go down and see Luke at his new studio. I really wanted to get to know the other artists there at the co-op, because I knew that they really wanted me to join them, too. I didn’t really have the money for that, however, although I wasn’t necessarily above asking my dad to invest in the co-op - if I thought that it would be a good investment.

That was the thing – I needed to know that this cooperative was solid. Then I would know that my father could get a good return for his investment. The last thing that I wanted was for my father just to give me money, without much hope that he would get the money back. Asking him to invest, though, made it seem, to me, like it was another business decision for him, and that made asking him for money all the more palatable.

But, at the same time, I wasn’t on the greatest footing with my dad. The reason for this was that, although he wasn’t saying as much, I knew that he was pretty pissed at me for the mess I got everybody in. It wasn’t the time, just yet, to ask him for the $20,000 investment that I would need to buy into the co-op, considering how tense everything was.

Still, I wanted to get down there and check everything out.

So, imagine my surprise when I went to the co-op and saw Henry Jacobs leaving the premises. I ducked my head, hoping that he wouldn’t recognize me. Why I felt the need to hide, I didn’t know. I only knew that I felt the need to disguise who I was.

It didn’t work.

“Ms. Gallagher?” the little man said to me.

“Hello, Mr. Jacobs,” I said. I felt my face flushing red, and I put my hand up to my cheek involuntarily.

“It’s good to see you. You’re looking well.”

I bit my lip and looked down at the floor. While I was surprised to see him, I also felt hopeful yet angry at the same time. Hopeful because I thought that maybe he was there to see Luke, for whatever reason. Angry because I still blamed him for my artistic breakdown. All those years of feeling like a fraud and failure because of him…I couldn’t forgive him.

I looked up and he was examining me, as a scientist might examine a subject in an experiment. He had taken off his glasses and was chewing on the end of the frame. He shrugged. “Bad habit.”

“Well, it’s good to see you too, Mr. Jacobs,” I said. “Uh, if you don’t mind….” I tried to politely excuse myself, but he apparently didn’t get the hint. He still stood there and carefully examined me.

“Ms. Gallagher,” he finally said. “I came down here to apologize to Mr. Roberts. Do you know him?”

“Yes, yes I do,” I said. This conversation was taking a turn for the surreal, that was for sure.

He took a deep breath. “I think that I might have, as a critic, become a little too immersed in the political side of things. My objectivity has not always been as on-point as it should be. Sometimes there is pressure put upon critics where there really shouldn’t be, and people get hurt because of it.” Then he paused. “I think that you probably know where I’m going with this.”

“I think that I do,” I said, although I really didn’t. Did he want to print a retraction of his scathing critique, some nine years after the fact? It would be just a little late for that, wouldn’t it?

“Ms. Gallagher,” he said, “I’m not sure if you have a platform for your work anymore, thanks to me. But if you do, I would be more than happy to review it, wherever it is that you decide to display it.” He gave me his card. “Here’s my card. Please call me whenever you get a chance to show your work, and I’ll guarantee you that I’ll write…a more honest review of your work than my previous assessment.”

I cocked my head and looked at him quizzically. “Thank you, Mr. Jacobs, but, I confess I don’t understand what is motivating this.”

“Have you ever had a near-death experience, Ms. Gallagher? Have you ever been at a point in your life when you think that you are going to die, and then you didn’t?”

I thought back to when I was a baby. Would that count? It probably would, considering that I was cognizant of what was going on. “Yes, I guess so.”

“Well, then, you know what I’m talking about. It changes you, Ms. Gallagher. It makes you realize what’s really important in this world, and what isn’t.” He didn’t elaborate further, though. “Well, I’m very glad to have run into you. You wouldn’t believe it if I told you this, but you’ve been on my mind a lot lately. Call it serendipity to run into you this way.” He bowed his head a little. “Good day, Ms. Gallagher. I hope to hear from you soon.”

At that, he turned on his heel and walked away, his hands in his pocket, and whistling a little tune.

I shook my head. That had to be the oddest thing to happen to me in a long time.

And probably one of the most wonderful things as well.

Chapter

Luke

I was standing in the lobby with JJ, and she asked me to go to her studio to share a bottle of wine with her. “It’s time to celebrate,” she said. “Let’s call all the other guys in here, too, and tell them the great news.”

At that, she called everyone and asked them to meet us in her studio. One by one, everyone showed up, and JJ told them the news.

“Guys,” she said. “I’m gathering you all here to tell you that we’re going to have a very special guest at our little fund-raiser, and this special guest is going to help us get the word out about it. I predict that this might be a turning point for our little David organization, because Goliath is joining forces with us.”

“Really,” Arthur, a photographer, said. “Do tell.”

“Henry Jacobs will be attending our fund-raiser. And he told Luke here that he’s going to help us publicize it. So, everybody, let’s make a toast, and then you all have to get to work. Because, just out of the blue, we’ve gotten the best offer that we ever could hope for, and it seems that this little fund-raiser is going to be better attended then we had ever dreamed.”

At that, everybody started chatting excitedly and drinking. “Henry Jacobs, here? I never thought that would happen,” said Connie, a sculptor.

“I finally might get somebody to actually care about my work,” said Ravi, a painter who specialized in hyper-realism.

I smiled, happy that I could have made this happen. And astounded that it did happen. I never actually thought that anything positive was going to come from that
Matthew Jane
showing, yet it was. It was, and I wasn’t the only one who was going to benefit from it.

Then, in the middle of all the celebration, Dalilah walked through the door.

I went over to her and gave her a hug. “Dalilah, you won’t believe what just happened.”

“Henry Jacobs was here,” she said, matter-of-factly.

“How did you know?”

“I ran into him outside. He all but apologized for his unfair critique of my work when I was 11, and told me, in essence, that he was eager to give me a second chance. He said that if I ever got a chance to display my work, he will, quote ‘give a more honest review of my work’ un-quote.”

At that, I picked her up. For just that moment, Nottingham and his threats were forgotten. This was a happy moment for both of us, because we both were getting a second chance to display our work for all to see. And both of us were getting our chance to really get some positive attention, assuming that Henry Jacobs was truly willing to give both of us a positive review.

Dalilah was laughing. “I don’t believe this. I mean, it was just a few days ago that I thought that the world was ending. It might still be ending, but today, I just feel happy. I feel happy for you, and for me. We both might get the chance that we never got before.”

“Well, now you have something concrete to take to your father if you want him to invest. Tell him that this entire co-op is on its way, if the fund-raiser goes as well as I think it’s going to now. Your dad will be more than happy to give you the $20,000, now that he knows that he’ll get his investment back.”

“Of course, you know that he would be more than willing just to give me that money, even if he wasn’t sure if he would get a solid return. It just helps me to know that I’m not asking him to piss in the wind.”

“That’s one way to put it,” I said with a smile. “Well, you and I have work to do. You need to talk to your dad about buying into the co-op, and you need to get your butt in your chair and start painting again. It will take your mind off of what’s going on with Nottingham, at least a little bit. Hopefully it will, that is.”

At that, Dalilah and I excused ourselves and went into my studio.

Dalilah went through my paintings, one by one.
“There are some that I’ve never seen before,” she said. “Let me help you get the ones together for the fund-raiser.”

I went up to her, and lifted up her shirt. She wasn’t wearing a bra, and her breasts were swelling more and more by the day. I ran my hand over her burgeoning tummy and stroked it lightly. “God,” I said, “you’re so sexy these days, I just can’t even believe it.”

Dalilah turned around and smiled. “Right back atcha, there,” she said. And then she turned serious. I could see that he eyes had turned into two pools of lust. Her lips were on mine, hungrily devouring them. I could feel my cock getting harder and harder as she kissed me.

Before long, we were tearing off each other’s clothing hungrily. We fell on the couch that I had just brought into the studio, and I was inside her almost immediately. We animalistically merged ourselves on the sofa, until I felt myself spilling my cum into her. Breathless, we both sat up.

“Well, Luke, that was awesome, as always,” she said. “But we need to get to work.”

Which we did, spending the rest of the day carefully choosing my paintings to show, while listening to music in the background. As we talked and laughed the entire day, it was just like old times. As if there wasn’t a Sword of Damocles hanging over our head.

Which it was, of course. There was no denying that. But, for those few hours, it was as if there wasn’t a care in the world.

A week went by quietly.
Dalilah and I readied ourselves for the other shoe dropping, but it never did. There never was an announcement that the prosecutors were looking into the death of Paul Lucas, although we both held our breaths in waiting for just such an announcement.

In the meantime, we also prepared for the fund-raiser. Dalilah was becoming more active by the day in helping out, and she was close to asking her father for the money for her to be able to join the co-op as well. She hadn’t asked him yet, however, because she was worried about the tension that was still between her and Ryan. She knew that he was still angry with her, so she felt intimidated to say anything to him.

We also found out the real reason for Henry Jacobs’ change of heart. When Dalilah told me that Henry told her that he had a near-death experience, we decided to find out if there was anything on the news about it. It turned out that there was, but, because we were in London at the time that it happened, we didn’t know about it.

So, we Googled it, and the news articles turned up immediately. An intruder had broken into his home and shot him when Henry tried to defend himself with his personal gun. The bullet came very close to nicking his aorta, although it didn’t quite, and he had a touch and go surgery. The article indicated that Henry felt that he was lucky to be alive.

I smiled. “So, the old fart has a conscience after all. I wonder if he told Nottingham to stuff it, assuming that Nottingham’s pressure was what caused him to ignore me in the first place.”

“I’m quite sure that Nottingham’s pressure was the reason why Henry ignored you,” Dalilah said. “After all, he said something to me about how politics had colored the way that he has critiqued shows, and he wasn’t going to let that happen anymore. Well, good for him, being more independent like that. I wonder how the paper feels about him being more independent, though.”

I shrugged. “Who knows? It seems that politics plays a part in too many things these days. How naïve of us to ever believe that anybody can be truly objective, when there’s always money and pressure involved in everything people do anymore.”

“That’s very true,” she said.

Then, one day, while Dalilah and I were readying ourselves for the big fund-raiser, she got a phone call.

From her father.

The security team had given him their report.