Daniel Price - Slick

“You don’t even know me, bitch.”

I hung up, then closed the phone. By now my shoes had made it safely to shore. I picked them up, studied them, and then launched them back into the sea. They were both ruined forever. Not just my shoes, the ocean. Every time I’d look at the water now, I’d think of the time I forced Harmony Prince into doing something she didn’t want to do. I’d think of the time I pinned her down, had my way, and ruined her forever.

________________

In a vacant glaze, I trudged back to my car and started it up. I didn’t like the way my bare foot felt against the brake pedal, or the way my wet pant legs felt against my thighs. And still I couldn’t stop trembling. Inside, I was caught between the urge to flee the scene of the crime and the realization that I was in no condition to drive anywhere.

I turned on the heat and peered ahead at the flying seagulls until I finally stopped shivering. By now, my slacks were merely damp. My body and mind were almost thawed.

I’d never called a woman a bitch before.

“It’s done,” Maxina told me, from her hotel bed. “I just spoke with Harmony. She’s agreed to cooperate. She’ll record a videotaped confession for us tomorrow morning.”

“Tomorrow morning?”

“Her condition. She wants to write the speech herself and she wants a whole night to prepare it. I tried to bargain with her but she was pretty inflexible. It’s all right. I’d still rather play her videotape tomorrow than our audiotape today.”

I rested my head against the window. I wasn’t entirely lucid yet.

“It’ll be okay,” Maxina assured me. “We still have final cut. There won’t be any bombshells. I supported your pseudonym story, by the way. Very clever thinking.”

My stomach churned. “Any other conditions?”

“She wants your money. All of it. I stuck to my guns on that one. Half now. Half on delivery.”

“Any other conditions?”

“Scott…”

“Just say it.”

Maxina sighed. “She doesn’t want to hear from you ever again. You knew that. You knew what you had to do and you did it.”

I watched another photographer set up by the curb, waiting for that precious glimpse of Harmony.

“Scott, I know it hurt like hell, but you did what we hired you to do. You saved Jeremy.”

“Who’s going to save Harmony?”

“I will,” she insisted. “I’ll hire a publicist tonight to be her new official handler, and I’ll coordinate everyone on this side of the effort. We won’t level a single bad word against her. All of our rage will be channeled at the conspiracy. Trust me. Your plan will work out nicely for all of us.”

Funny how ridiculous it sounded when coming from someone else.

“For the record,” she conceded, “I’m sorry I told her about Lisa Glassman. You were right. That was a mistake.”

“That’s not what screwed things up and you know it.”

“I know.”

I felt uncomfortably hot. Turning off the air didn’t help. I was percolating, pulsating with pent-up energy I couldn’t quite release. I didn’t even know what form it would take. Screams. Tears. Maniacal laughter. Who could say? But I refused to let Maxina become the lucky earwitness to such a rare emotional event.

“I didn’t mean for it happen like this,” I said. “I didn’t mean for us to get so…”

“Listen, do you know how many singers and actresses get married to their agents? Their managers? Their publicists ? Too many to count. That little dance between star and starmaker is as old as fame itself. You were just the latest pair to get caught in it. I knew there’d be trouble from the moment I saw you two together.”

“But I never meant for it to happen. It was an accident.”

“I know.”

“She doesn’t.”

Maxina emitted a motherly chuckle. “Of course not, Scott. You’ve never seen yourself through a young girl’s eyes. You’re a dashing tomcat, all suave and confident. In your world, there are no accidents.”

“Apparently there are.”

“I know. I’m not a young girl. I see them. But you know what? They were honest mistakes.”

She was certainly in a magnanimous mood. Who could blame her? Twenty minutes ago, she was looking at World War III. Now she had the pleasure of calling all her cronies in the music business and telling them they can finally breathe again.

“Go home,” she said. “Get some sleep. The best thing you can do now is distance yourself. I assume you’ve been careful in covering your tracks.”

You’ve been a bad, bad boy . “I have. At least with Harmony. I mean, no one knows about my connection to her except the twelve thousand of you.”

“Well, the twelve thousand of us have a very strong interest in keeping it quiet. You’ll be fine.”

I’d never called a woman a bitch before.

“Go home.”

That part would follow me forever. I could have said so many other things. I could have even just said “You don’t even know me” and ended the call with a modicum of virtue (at least in my book). The fact that I’d garnished my last words to her, littered my very own message, only justified everything she said and felt about me. It was all the proof she needed.

I didn’t return to Brentwood until shortly after four. The moment I got to my apartment door, I fixed my hair, adjusted my shirt, then summoned up a fresh batch of composure. I even came up with a good cover story for being barefoot.

Madison sat cross-legged on the couch, shooting Internet articles from my laptop to my BubbleJet. She seemed a little anxious.

“Hi, Scott.”

“Hey. Sorry I’m late.”

“I knocked several times like you told me. Then I used the key.”

“That’s fine,” I told her. “Exactly why I gave it to you.”

I dropped my wallet on the kitchen counter, then peeked at my answering machine. Exhaling, I collapsed to the easy chair.

“I did the dumbest thing today—”

“Scott, you had a visitor.”

“What?”

“A woman stopped by twenty minutes ago. She was looking for you.”

“Can you be more specific?”

Madison squinted in concentration, scouring her memory banks. “Shit. She told me her name. I just forgot it.”

“You didn’t write it down?”

“No. I remembered it. But then you sort of came in, barefoot and smelling like salt.”

“I’ll explain that,” I promised. “Once you remember this woman’s name.”

“Marina…Malina…”

“Maxina?”

She snapped her fingers at me. “Yeah. Maxina.”

“That doesn’t make sense. I just spoke with her. What did she say?”

Madison winced, hesitant. “She said she knows you’re up to something with Harmony Prince.”

I took a deep breath through my nose, then lowered my head. I will not explode. I will not implode. I will not crack into tiny pieces. Not in front of Madison.

“Are you okay, Scott?”

No. “Yeah. I just haven’t eaten all day. My blood sugar’s down.”

“You want me to get you something?”

“Sure. A glass of apple juice would be great.”

“Okay.”

Goddamn it. What kind of game was Maxina playing? What kind of game did she think I was playing?

Madison brought me a full glass of juice. I took a deep sip. “Thank you.”