Awaken (21 page)

In utter disbelief, Cooper shook his head slowly. “No. We had talked about her moving to Chicago the last time I saw her.”

I can’t tell her I was a total asshole,
he thought to himself
. I destroyed her life. It’s all my fault.

Cooper stared blankly into space, the realization that he was responsible for her death slowly overwhelmed him.

Why did I have to be so cruel to her?

Savannah took a seat and sighed. “She was so young, so much to live for. I’m trying to contact her family or friends, but I don’t know where to start. The emergency phone number she provided in her membership application is actually a car dealership. Do you have any idea how to get in touch with her family?”

Cooper shook his head, still dazed.
I’ve killed another one. Everyone I come into contact with I destroy,
Cooper told himself.

“I guess I’ll have to get the police to help me,” Savannah said with a sigh.

“Excuse me, I have to go,” Cooper said suddenly and stood up.

Savannah said something to him as he was leaving, but Cooper couldn’t hear her. The air around him grew thick. His mind was spinning. He rushed out of her office and out of the club.

 
He told Clyde to drive him home. He was in no shape to go back to the office.
 

As they made their way uptown, Cooper stared out the window of his limo. He realized he didn’t even know Mimi. He didn’t know what food she liked, what music she listened to. They had met at Club Nectar. She had become infatuated with him. He always sensed she might be unstable, as her threat to go public with his secret identity demonstrated. But Cooper never realized just how much she had invested in their relationship. It meant more to her than he realized. It meant more to her than her own life.
 

Cooper felt an ache in his chest. The familiar feelings of the past were boiling inside of him.

When he stepped into the lobby of his building, the concierge stopped him. He said a woman came by earlier today and dropped off a letter for him. The only thing written across the front of the envelope was his name. Was it a message from Mimi?
 

He was about to open the envelope as he rode the elevator up to his apartment, but stopped himself. He was afraid of what the letter might say. Did Mimi describe what a horrible person he was?
 

The elevator doors opened onto his floor. Staring at the envelope in his hands, he slowly walked to his front door. Once inside his apartment, he dropped the envelope on the kitchen counter and prepared himself a scotch. He guzzled it down, longing for the heat to dull his pain. Then he poured himself another one. He stared at the envelope, still stalling to open it. He gulped the other glass of scotch. The liquor burned through him. He flung the glass, shattering it against the floor. He was about to pick up the envelope but stopped himself. Instead, he paced around his apartment, in a trance-like state, dazed and angry. He passed a mirror. His reflection stared back at him. He saw the truth.

I’m a monster,
he thought to himself and smashed the mirror with his fist. His hand began to bleed. He didn’t care. He walked back to the kitchen counter. With blood seeping from his wounds, he finally opened the envelope. It was not what he expected.
 

It wasn’t a letter from Mimi.

It was the contract he established with Lacey. A note was attached.

“Meeting you has helped me in so many ways. But now I realize we want different things. I think it’s best to stop seeing each other. Thank you for everything, Cooper. Sincerely, Lacey.”

Cooper crumbled the note with his bloodied hand. He unfolded the contract and confirmed that Lacey had signed her name on the last page indicating all obligations had been met. The contract was now legally binding. No more sessions. His secret was safe. Cooper tossed the blood stained paper to the floor. He leaned against the kitchen counter.
 

He wanted to call Lacey – ask her what had changed. But he slowly realized that Lacey had done the right thing. I’m cursed,
Cooper mumbled.
If you get close to me, Lacey, you’ll just end up dead like Julia... and now, Mimi.

Lacey recognized that leaving the contract with Cooper’s doorman was a cowardly act. She could have broken things off with him face-to-face. But that meant seeing him in person, which could be risky: she could have second thoughts about ending their “relationship”.
 

This is about my heart and my long-term happiness,
Lacey reminded herself.
Cooper isn’t the man for me. He’s not interested in settling down with one woman. Being monogamous is a foreign concept to him. So, even though I’m not proud of sending him a letter, ending whatever we had was the right move.

Lacey had to stop thinking about Cooper and focus on her photography. She was about to step into the Jameson Art Gallery. Craig had called her earlier that morning. Mark and Cynthia Jameson wanted to meet with her to discuss the photographs she had sent. Lacey hoped they hadn’t changed their mind about including her in the exhibit. Although the shots of Joanna Hunt came out beautifully, and even Joanna was pleased with them, she wasn’t so sure about the photo shoot she staged at Nectar. She had made a bold decision with the lighting and wasn’t confident it paid off.
 

“Hi, I’m Lacey Winters. I’m here to meet with the –”

“The Jamesons are expecting you,” said the girl at the front desk with a wide smile.
 

“Lacey, so good to finally meet you.”
 

Lacey turned. A handsome man of fifty, with a head of white hair approached her. He was followed by an elegant woman around the same age.
 

“I’m Mark Jameson. This is my wife, Cynthia.”

Lacey shook both their hands. “It’s an honor to meet you both. I’ve been a fan of your gallery for years.”

“I’m happy you were able to come in today,” said Mark. “There’s something very important we want to discuss with you. Let’s go into our office so we can talk privately.”

Lacey followed them through the gallery. Several landscape
pictures of dried and parched terrain hung on the walls. The Jamesons’ current exhibit dealt with how water shortages were impacting much of the world. The pictures were breathtaking. After her conversation with the Jamesons’, Lacey intended on spending some more time looking at them. But as she followed Mark and Cynthia to their office, she realized she might not be in the mood to look at photos if the meeting resulted in bad news.

They stepped into a large office in the back of the gallery. Lacey was surprised to see one of her photos projected digitally onto a large screen against the wall. It was a shot she had taken of a threesome at Club Nectar. The woman in the picture, who was being pleasured by two men, was in the throes of ecstasy. Automatically, the photo was followed by another one of Lacey’s pictures – this one of Joanna Hunt. Lacey smiled as she watched several more of her images rotate on the large screen. Even if Mark and Cynthia didn’t think these images were good enough for the exhibit, she was pleased with the results. Her reservations about her lighting choices were unwarranted. The images were stunning, at least in her mind.

“We’ve had a chance to take a thorough look at your photos,” said Cynthia.

Lacey took a deep breath.
And..
.

“We love them,” Cynthia said with a grin. “We want to do an entire exhibit just on your work.”

Lacey wasn’t sure she heard her correctly.

“Just me?”
 

Mark and Cynthia both nodded. Mark pointed to a series of photos
 
rotating on the screen that were taken at Nectar. “These shots at the club have real impact, not only due to the lighting but also because of the subject matter. They feel staged but authentic at the same time. The lighting is stylized, but the content feels pure. It’s an amazing juxtaposition. When we put your work next to the other artists we were thinking of showcasing, well to be frank, yours just shines head and shoulders above everybody else’s.”

Music rang in her ears. Lacey couldn’t believe what she was hearing. She attempted to control her enthusiasm. She needed to remain cool.

“So anyway,” continued Mark. “Cynthia and I had a chat. We were thinking about focusing the entire exhibit next month just on you. What do you think?”

“What do I think?” Lacey asked, almost breathless.

Mark and Cynthia both nodded, and looked at her seriously.

“I think that’s awesome,” said Lacey, not able to hold back, her face breaking into a huge grin.

“Good,” Cynthia said. “I think this exhibit will make a real impact. Not only are the shots you have in the club exceptional, but your nude photos of Joanna Hunt are just beautiful. Those shots alone are going to get people talking.”

“I hope you’re ready to become a star, Miss Winters,” said Mark Jameson. “Because I think this gallery showing is going to put you on the map. Now, the hard part will be to narrow the selection to fifteen photos to showcase for the exhibit.”

A few hours later, after choosing the photos for the show with Mark and Cynthia, Lacey stepped out of the Jameson Art Gallery. She felt like doing the jiggy on the sidewalk; she could barely contain her happiness. Luckily,
 
wearing high heels squashed those intentions.
 

So, she immediately called her dad.
 

“Dad, I’m going to have a gallery showing of my work,” she blurted into the phone.

“Slow down a minute, sweetie,” said her father. “What gallery?”

Lacey told him about the Jameson Gallery – how they decided to single her out for a special exhibit next month.

“Well, the good news keeps rolling in,” said her father happily. “So what’s the theme of your photos? Will you use any of the ones you took in Cleveland?”

Lacey faltered. She didn’t want to tell her father about the nudes and sex photos she captured. It would be a shock to his conservative sensibilities. But she couldn’t imagine having her first gallery show and not having her father witness it – especially after he helped nurse her back to health.

“No, Dad. It’s from my new portfolio of pictures I took here in New York,” said Lacey.
I can’t tell him the truth over the phone. He’ll just find out when he steps into the gallery,
she told herself.
 

“That’s wonderful, honey. When should I book my flight?”

“Next month. The opening is the first Saturday in November,” said Lacey. “I can’t wait to see you.”

“I can’t wait to see you too, sweetie. I can’t believe you’re already having your first gallery exhibit,” her father said. “I’m so proud of you.”

“Thanks, Dad.” She then thought to herself,
I just hope that proud feeling doesn’t fade when you see the kind of pictures your daughter’s been taking.

It was a crisp fall morning in Boston. The leaves had turned, and the old city was flooded with vibrant colors. Cooper raised his head and noticed the foliage.
Our lives are like falling leaves
, he meditated.
 

Earlier that morning, Cooper had taken his private jet from New York for a very special meeting – a day on his calendar he never forgot, no matter how busy he was.

As a brisk chill swept across his face, Cooper turned up the collar of his topcoat and continued walking through the cemetery. His cellphone rang. It was Todd.
He should know better than to call me today,
Cooper thought.
I told him very clearly that I’m not to be disturbed.

Cooper contemplated letting the call go to voicemail, but changed his mind last minute.

“What?”
 

“I’m sorry, Sir,” began Todd, his voice on edge. “I know you don’t want to be bothered today. But, Henry, out in Seattle, says he’s dealing with a Defcon-1 situation. If you don’t take his call, all hell is going to break loose.”

“Tell him I don’t care. I’ll deal with it when I get back to the office tomorrow,” said Cooper.

There was a pause. “Okay,” Todd said. Then he asked, “Are you alright, Sir?”

Cooper was surprised by Todd’s concern. “No, Todd. I’m not,” he responded flatly. “But thank you for asking.”

He hung up and slid his cellphone into his coat pocket.
 

No, he most definitely was not all right. How could he be? Because of him, Mimi had killed herself. Because of him, Julia was dead.
 

All. Because. Of. Him.
 

And now the first woman to break through the shell he had built around himself had suddenly cut him out of her life.
Lacey is smart,
Cooper thought to himself.
She can probably sense the destruction I bring to those around me.

Cooper slowly turned and proceeded across the lawn, toward a row of gravestones. He stopped at the one that read: Here Rests Julia Morrison. Beloved Daughter. February 9, 1983 - March 6, 2005. Cooper placed a bouquet of flowers he brought with him on the ground, next to another fresh bouquet.
Julia’s parents must have been here earlier today,
Cooper thought.
I’m glad we didn’t run into each other. Since she died, I always feel so uncomfortable when I see them.