I nearly choked on water. “I did not kiss him.”
Claudia gave me a long, sympathetic look before answering. “That’s all well and good, but this job is all about appearances. Even if it looked like something inappropriate was going on then that’s all that matters.”
She slid a sheet of paper across the desk with names and addresses printed in red ink. “From his description of the photographer, I connected with my resources and have narrowed it down to three possibilities. There’s a slim chance he’s freelance, but I doubt it. There’s nothing on the wire yet, so he’s probably just sitting on the pictures until the price is right.”
I looked down at the sheet, nodding slowly as I read the names. James Kent with R&I Pics, Luis Salazar with Perfect Shot and Mike Warsaw with JNS. I gave her my full attention, waiting for further instructions, but she just watched me like it was my turn at the mic.
"So what’s next?” I asked. “We make contact and figure out an arrangement?"
"‘We’?" She looked at me strangely then closed her eyes and let out an 'oh' of realization. "I just assumed he would have explained this.”
My cheeks heated. He hasn’t really done much explaining. Or talking. “I haven’t, uh, touched base with him this morning.”
“I see.” She cleared her throat nervously. “Mr. Whitmore didn't even want me to narrow down the names, but I told him unless you have experience it would be like finding a needle in a hay stack. He put his foot down as far as me making any contact on your behalf."
“What?” I said, completely lost.
"There is no ‘we’, Leila,” she elaborated. “You can use the expense account if you need to purchase the photo and rights, but you will be the one face to face, brokering any deal."
I blinked, not sure I heard right. "Me? But…why would they even talk to me? How could I make them talk to me?"
"You handled the situation in Venice like a pro," Claudia answered. "Just make them an offer they can't refuse." She smiled right through my leery gaze. "You can do this, Leila. I know you can.”
She said it so simply that I rose up and took the paper with a confidence I didn't feel, strutting out of her office like I was the one with my name over the door. It wasn't until I was pulling into downtown traffic, steering toward JNS, that it hit me.
I was scared shitless.
No amount of psyching myself up helped dull the fact that I was about to face the very people that I painstakingly avoided. Photographers. Paparazzi. Locusts whose sole goal was to snap and devour anything that could make them a quick buck.
A shot of an overly thin starlet stuffing a greasy slice of pizza in her mouth. A suave leading man in his Sunday worst, looking nothing like the drool worthy eye candy women flocked to the cinema to see. The seasoned actor and family man snuggled up to someone that was definitely not his wife. Or a fish out of water girl who had the attention of two celebrity suitors, cementing her place on the shit list of females all over.
I pulled into a parking space at the grungy looking building on Eighteenth Street. It was the kind of building that gave off a bad vibe, the aged concrete and steel more of a prison than a place of business.
There were no pictures hung with care or guard watching the comings and goings. There was no one to get rid of the homeless guy that followed me inside, like harassment would empty my pockets.
An older woman with gray hair and a no-nonsense stature stopped shuffling through her mail a few feet away, peering at us over the rim of her glasses.
"Jimmy, I think the young lady told you no,” she growled.
He gave her a gummy smile, flipping his personality like Jekyll and Hyde. "I didn't mean no harm, Jules."
"Uh huh," She crooked her thumb at the door. "Get outta here before I whip out my taser."
The man practically kowtowed, throwing me one last look of disgust before hustling out the exit.
"Thank you so much," I told her, relaxing with a sigh.
"No prob," she said nonchalantly. "You gotta be firm, honey. Otherwise people can smell the fear on ya."
I wasn't sure what to say to that so I just gave her a nervous chuckle and glanced down at my paper. Sweat blurred the suite number so I scanned the lobby for a directory. I found what was left of one and JNS wasn't even listed.
"Whatcha looking for?" she piped behind me.
"JNS?"
She folded the papers under her arm. "Well ain't that a coincidence? I'm the J in that acronym." She gave me the once over before settling on my face. "Julie Kaplan." Before I could even say my name, she cut right to the chase. "What firm you work for?"
I swallowed. "Whitmore and Creighton."
She let out an impressed whistle and started down a narrow hallway, moving with a surprising speed for her girth. She was practically to the elevator before she turned around and looked back at me like I was a kid doing something ridiculous like eating glue.
"Whatcha waiting for? I know you didn't drive all the way here to get felt up by our honorary doorman." She pulled up the elevator gate and made a grand flourish. “After you.”
We slid into the old elevator and it crept upward at a snail’s pace. I gave my skirt a futile smoothing, shifting my weight from foot to foot.
“So what picture is Jacob trying to get rid of?”
I froze. I wasn’t sure where Jacob and I stood or what I was going to say to the photographer, but I was pretty sure that he didn’t want his name to be anywhere near this situation.
“I, um--” I looked at the floor indicator, willing the elevator to move faster so I could get off the hook. I glanced down at the paper, a name jumping out at me. “Mike Warsaw. I wanted to see if he took a picture of a…client.”
“Warsaw’s out of the office today, but if it’s juicy enough for you to come down here, I’m sure I could help you. Who’s the picture of?”
“An actor and a—” I cleared my throat and decided to be vague as possible. “Local girl.”
She scratched her chin, forehead winkled as she thought it over. She snapped her fingers, just as the elevator shuddered to a stop on our floor.
“The action guy, right? Cade Wallace?”
I nodded, my whole body tensing.
She stepped out of the elevator. “That picture sold this morning.” She frowned. “I still don’t understand why you’re here though.”
I swallowed the knot in my throat. I was so close. “I was hoping we could settle it before you sold it to a magazine.”