The Night She Got Lucky (8 page)

Jason hopped down off the hood of the 911, drilling a knuckle into the muscle of his brother's upper arm before he walked away.

Joshua yelped in pain. Hey, I'm talking to you! He ran after him. What is your problem? What is it you think you have to prove? Is this about Dad? He caught up to his brother and blocked his way, yelling in his face. If you're doing this kind of stupid shit just to get his attention, then it's totally pathetic!

You're the pathetic one, Jason said, not looking at him.

Our dad is a jackass, Joshua said. He's a middle-aged sex freak and he's not worth ruining our lives for.

With that last comment, Jason spun around and punched his twin brother in the mouth. Both were shocked to see three small white teeth clatter to the bricks, followed by several plump drops of bright red blood.

Lucio felt confident when he arrived at his agent's office. Piers was with him, agreeing to vouch for him if needed, lend moral support, and voice a healthy dose of outrage as a fellow
Geographica
photographer.

The confidence didn't last long. Lucio got his first taste of bad news before the meeting even started. Sydney pulled Lucio aside and told him that the chairman of the Erskine Prize committee had called, and they had temporarily rescinded his award.

They will review the situation and decide by next month.

Piers overheard Sydney and shook his head sadly. Oh, no. No. This cannot be.

Lucio was stunned. The Erskine was the biggest prize of them all, the ultimate mark of achievement in nature photography. He'd wanted an Erskine since he was twenty years old. He'd worked like a dog for it. He'd risked his life countless times for it. And it had a cash prize of $250,000, upon which his entire future now hinged.

We have to

Sydney stopped Lucio by placing a hand on his arm. No interference. They said if you or anyone else tries to lobby them about this, they would automatically pull the award. I am to notify them if your situation changes, but that's all.

But

Just sit tight, Sydney said. The results of today's meeting might reassure everyone. Let's think positively.

Lucio sat on one side of the conference table along with Sydney, Piers, and Bill Voyles, Lucio's recently acquiredand very expensivecriminal defense attorney, who promptly passed his business cards to everyone in the room.

On the opposite side of the table sat two
Geographica
attorneys and a pair of underlings from the U.S. State Department.

Lucio's hopes for a hassle-free resolution were dashed within the first five minutes. The magazine's lawyers told him that
Geographica
had no interest in reinstating Lucio's current contract, nor would they be interested in any future partnership.

Lucio sat in silence, his blood hot and pounding.

Next, they went on to inform him that they had evidence linking Lucio to the missing fifty thousand in magazine funds.

But I've already told youI did not take that money! Lucio waved his hands around in frustration. I would never do that!

As Lucio's lawyer whispered to him to keep his mouth closed, one of the magazine's attorneys produced a stack of papers, which he spread out on the table for inspection. In front of Lucio were sixteen completed expense reimbursement forms dated over a four-month period. The signature looked almost identical to Lucio's'
almost
.

The lawyers explained that all the forms had been couriered together from China to
Geographica'
s London office, where the requests had been approved and money had been wired to an anonymous personal account in the Bahamas. A routine audit had revealed discrepancies, and editors were alerted to the possible fraud.

But that is not my signature, Lucio said, tapping his finger on the black-ink cursive, the rage building in him as he examined a listing of hotel, food, transportation, and equipment expenses in southern China. What is this garbage? he asked, incredulous. I don't even use this brand of diffusion filter and I certainly wouldn't be buying it in China! And I never set foot in the Jiangxi Province for that assignment.

Exactly our point, the lawyer said.

?Es una trampa para incriminarme!
Lucio said, the realization slamming into him. He looked around the table. I have been set up!

So this is not your bank account? one of the lawyers asked.

Lucio looked again at the name of the offshore bank and the account number. Absolutely not. For more than ten years I have used an account here in San Franciscoyour records will show that. This is not my account.

One of the lawyers smiled as if he enjoyed the exchange. Who would want to set you up as you claim, Mr. Montevez?

I do not know, Lucio said, trying to stay calm. Just as I cannot explain how my rough video footage got to the Chinese foreign ministry.

The lawyer smiled again. So you believe one person is responsible for both offensesa conspiracy of sorts?

I suppose it is possible, Lucio answered. I do not know what happened. That is what I am telling you.

Hmm the lawyer said, his grin expanding. So there is someone out there vengeful enough to go to all this trouble to damage your reputation? Someone who also happens to be knowledgeable of
Geographica'
s reimbursement procedure? Someone who can get a hold of the appropriate forms and then forge your signature?

The heat of Piers's stare made Lucio turn toward his friend. Immediately, he knew Piers was thinking the same thing he was'
hell yes, such a person existed
.

Several persons, really. Several
women
. Lucio closed his eyes as he started to go down the list in his mindMarina, the photographer's assistant in Belize; Hima, the freelance translator in Nepal; Julya, the documentary producer in Siberia; and, of course, Ilsa, the photo editor in Frankfurt. And that was just for starters. Like he'd done with Sylvie, he'd carelessly tossed them all aside for his only true love: his work. And each one had been quite unhappy about it. Ilsa, dramatically so.

So where might we find this person?

Lucio did not answer the lawyer, so Piers spoke in his defense. Truly, this is a real possibility. My friend does not lie. There are many women who no longer think well of him.

Give us their names and we'll begin an investigation.

Piers leaned close and whispered into Lucio's ear. Remember what Ilsa Knauss said to you at the airport?

Lucio nodded, sighing. How could I forget? he whispered back. She threatened to cut off two critical parts of my anatomy! And then, there was the rat

Piers leaned into his ear again. You really should give them her name, he suggested.

But we haven't spoken in two years, Lucio said. Don't you think she'd be over it by now?

Piers looked at Lucio as if he were crazy.

Yes, yes, all right, Lucio said. He supposed the gift-wrapped package that had awaited him upon his arrival in the northern Chinese city of Yinchuan nearly five months earlier was proof that she hadn't forgotten. The thing was so the word?

Desiccated.

And smelly. Lucio swallowed, recalling how the accompanying gift card had been signed: All My Love, Ilsa.

Well? One of the magazine's lawyers looked impatient. I'm waiting.

Lucio nodded, but he took a moment to think this through. Was he capable of siccing investigators on Ilsa, or any of the women from his past? What if that just heaped further hurt onto innocent women who had nothing to do with this? But could Lucio live with the idea that he'd never get to the truth that would clear his name?

Before he could even confer with Bill Voyles, the magazine's lawyers shoved another document across the table. It was an agreement that
Geographica
magazine would forgo criminal charges if Lucio repaid the fifty thousand within ninety days.

But I cannot, Lucio said, looking to Bill and then the magazine attorneys. To Sydney he said, I won't get the Erskine prize money until Decemberif I get it at all.

Would you consider six months? Bill Voyles asked the lawyers.

We're afraid this is the limit of the company's compassion, was the reply.

The rage built in Lucio's chest until he could not suppress it.
?Hostia! ?Besa mi culo!
he shouted, slamming his fist on the conference table.

The room got quiet. All eyes turned to Piers, who shrugged. It means, ‘The Host! Kiss my posterior!'

Bill Voyles shook his head in disapproval.

I did not take your damn money, Lucio said, pointing at the attorneys. This is how you treat one of your best photographers? ?
Absurdo!
?
No me jodas!

His lawyer elbowed Lucio in the side. When everyone's eyes turned to Piers for a clarification, he shook his head, opting not to translate don't fuck with me.

If you decline the offer, Mr. Montevez, we will have no choice but to press charges.

Lucio sat still for a moment, his mouth ajar with disbelief. Eventually, he looked into the faces of the lawyers and nodded. He would pay the idiots their moneymoney was not the real issue. The issue was that someone had ruined his reputation, and that was unacceptable. In silence, Lucio promised himself he would find out who had done this to him, no matter how long it took.

Please relay to my former employer that their compassion overwhelms me, Lucio said, accepting a pen from his attorney.

He signed the agreement, then motioned to his handwriting. And just for your jollies, you might want to compare my actual signature to those on the expense reports.

We'll certainly take that into consideration, was their reply.

The State Department boys were next. They said a review of the facts in Lucio's case showed no merit to the charges of espionagethe only bit of good news Lucio had had all day. They went on to say that they believed the Chinese were only doing what they did best, diverting attention from a real problem with political posturing. In Lucio's case, the posturing was the spying accusation. The real problem was the environmental devastation caused by decades of unregulated industrial pollution. They assured him he was off the hook in that regard.

Thank God! he said with a sigh.

But he could never return to China, they added, and said he shouldn't bother trying to get his video footage back. Then they politely suggested that, from here on out, he might try to avoid sexing up the daughters of officials in communist, patriarchal societies.

Once everyone had filed out of the conference room, Sydney shrugged in Lucio's direction. I think that was as good as you could expect under the circumstances.

Piers shook his head in sympathy. How will you come up with fifty thousand in ninety days? Will you go to Rousseau?

Of course not, Lucio snapped. He could never ask Rick for money. He had
some
pride. He was already living in his wealthy friend's chic home and eating his food and driving one of his extra cars. There would be no begging for cash.

It's not like he'd miss it, Piers said helpfully.

I will not ask. Lucio turned to his agent. Get me jobs, Sydney. I don't care what they are.

Sydney frowned, the expression on his chubby red face flustered. What kind of jobs did you have in mind?

Stateside. West Coast if possible. Expenses up front. You know, tourism, travel, even commercial assignmentsanyone willing to pay top dollar for my name and reputation.

Sydney cleared his throat. Uh, I'm not sure who that would be right now, Lucky.

Lucio shifted his weight back on the heels of his feet, surprised by his agent's lack of enthusiasm. What are you saying?

Sydney shrugged. I'm saying that your target market is all but extinctnewspapers and magazines are washing up on the shore like dead fish every day. And even if the print market was flaming hot, your name and reputation stink like high tide. Sydney tilted his head, as if apologizing in advance for what he was about to say. Your name and reputation are shit right now, Lucky. That's what I'm saying.

Lucio's mouth fell open. But

Even without criminal charges, Sydney cut him off. The damage has been done. I'm sorry, but that's the truth, and I think you should save yourself some grief and just forget about the Erskine.

Piers let go with a pained sigh, turning his small, serious eyes Lucio's way. That is not right.

Lucio shook his head. No, it's not.

We will find the woman who did this to you, all right? Piers touched Lucio's shoulder. We'll start with Ilsa. She won't be hard to track down. The last I heard she was still freelancing in Europe. I will help you.

Lucio appreciated the offer of assistance, but he knew he'd have to postpone traveling the world in search of Ilsa or whoever the guilty party might be. He could not afford it! Besides, Lucio could not help but feel he'd been lucky to escape the wrath of a heartbroken woman for as many years as he had. Perhaps, in some way, he had this coming. Perhaps he deserved it.

Regardless, he needed fifty thousand U.S. dollars, and fast. Lucio sighed at the enormity of the challenge ahead of him. He could not finance a project on spec, hoping to find a buyer. Nor did he have the time for that unpredictable process. He only had ninety days.

He shoved his hands into the pockets of his slacks, where he encountered his ever-thinning wallet. Heat burned his fingertipshe suddenly thought of the business card tucked away inside. He thought of Ginger Garrison and her lapdog. One eyebrow rose high on his forehead.

Perhaps he was going about this all wrong. Perhaps he needed to focus on what he
did
have as opposed to what he lacked. He had his talent, his imagination, and a treasure chest of top-of-the-line photo equipment. He also had the strongest motivation of allself-preservation.

I believe the answer is pet portraits, Sydney, Lucio announced.