Prompt Assignment 01: Tom - Part 2

Downtown Los Angeles
12:20pm

“Gimme a bourbon please, mate.” The barman nodded, and I turned to Doug. “What do you want?”

“I’m too young to drink… thanks, though.” He spoke warily, as if afraid rejecting my offer might provoke me to attack him.

“Something to eat, then?” He eyed the chalkboard menu hungrily; it didn’t seem like he’d been able to afford much food lately. I was surprised the place served food, actually – for an underground bar that seemed to profit mainly from its regulars, it had an expansive menu. I wouldn’t personally have trusted the food in the place, but then I wasn’t going to be eating it.

“No, I couldn’t possibly ask… I mean it’s kind of you, but…”

“You gotta eat sometime. I ain’t gonna poison you.” I could see him weighing his options, but hunger won out in the end.

“A steak and fries would be great, thanks.”

“Sit down.” We took seats on opposite sides of a varnished wooden table. It was covered in dozens of discoloured rings where glasses had been carelessly rested, and scattered salt granules stood out against the black finish. Doug carelessly drew swirls in them with his index finger, avoiding my eye. I signalled to the barman that we wanted to order, and he picked up a pad, shuffling over to the table. I downed the remainder of my drink and waited for him to fish a pen out of his pocket. “I’ll have the same again.”

“Sure.” He glanced over at Doug, who had drawn a perfect circle in the salt crystals and was now tracing it round with his finger. This clearly wasn’t something he was accustomed to his patrons doing. “Anything else?” I stared pointedly at Doug, and then shook my head.

“Nah, that’s all.” The bartender’s face turned somewhat sour as he put his pad away – he obviously believed I was wasting his time. I couldn’t have cared less.

“Coming up.” He ambled back towards the bar. Doug wore a slightly wounded expression.

“I don’t understand… why…?”

“This ain’t a temp gig.”

“What?”

“You think you’re working a temporary job. Somethin’ you’re gonna do for a few weeks until you get however much you need, and then you’re off and on to better things. For me, this is a career. It’s what I do for a living; this is what puts food on the table. You messed up back there – those photos would have sold for a hundred grand at least, but you didn’t get them. Now, not only does that mean that our reputation… my reputation as someone who gets the job done is tarnished, but we’ve lost out on our income. By extraordinary coincidence, there’s now no food on your table. You understand?” He nodded. “You’re a liability, Doug. You’re out.” I eased back in my chair, draining my second glass of liquor. It burned comfortably. Doug’s face across the table wasn’t taking the news well.

“No, please, that was just a… you’ve to go understand, I need this.” Desperation was creeping into his eyes. That was good, I could work with that.

“It’s a competitive industry. Survival means being the best at what you do. The other people working this job are completely ruthless, and we have to keep pace with them. That doesn’t mean we go around putting lives at risk, but it does mean that when an opportunity comes our way, we don’t let it pass us by.” I paused for a few seconds to let this sink in, before playing my final card. “I’d have thought a hundred thousand dollars could have gone a long way towards helping your sister, am I right?”

“Yeah.” His fingers had stopped grazing the salt-covered tabletop, and his full attention was directed toward me.

“Half an hour ago, you made the choice between providing for her and livin’ in your little word of absolutes; you chose the moral high ground. Now I ain’t saying there’s anythin’ wrong with that… it’s important that there’s people like that. These are the people that make good doctors, good charity workers. But this type of job means thinking on your feet - if you stop each time to check your scruples, you’re going to lose out. And that means not providing for you and yours. You won’t eat, and neither will she.” There was no mistaking his expression – I was beginning to get through. “Now I don’t know why you need that money, and I don’t know how badly you need it. But unless you can buckle up and commit to this job right now, you’re no use to me. You’re out.”

“I’m sorry.” I shouldn’t ha-”

“Save it. Just make a decision.” Even as he sat hunched over in contemplation, I knew I’d made up his mind for him. I returned to my contemplations about his sister. Some kind of invalid, maybe? Needing money for an operation? Or perhaps she-

“I can do it.” I smiled genuinely for the first time that day… the kid knew I wasn’t joking, and this decision was final. It took guts.

“Alright then.” He reached into his pockets for something, and eventually produced a handful of change, which he clattered down on the tabletop. I wouldn’t have been surprised if this was all the money he had left.

“D’you think this place has a payphone?”

“Yeah, there’s one around the corner.” Doug dragged his coins off the table and into his palm, disappearing from view. I heard the clink of money dropping through a slot.

“Hey… Louise? Yeah, it’s me…” The sister, I presumed. He spoke in a more mature, comforting tone than I’d heard him use before. His conversation lasted for about ten minutes. I caught only snatches of what he was saying, above the crackly sound of the television mounted above the bar. From what I could gather, she was worried about their mother, and he was providing reassurance. “Don’t worry, Mom’ll be fine. Because I know. Not right now… soon. Everything’s going to be okay.” Perhaps his background wasn’t so happy after all. People are complex.

A truck rumbled by on the street outside, making ripples in my drink. It swayed back and forth in the glass slowly, elegantly, like a syrup. I could hear Doug finishing his conversation.

“Look, I’m out of money. No, I c-… Yes, I’ve still got the cellphone. It’s out of… call me if you need anything, okay? Okay. Yeah… bye.” He returned to the table and sat down, ashen-faced.

“You look troubled.” It wasn’t a keen observation.

“Yeah.”

“You wanna take me up on that drink? I doubt this place asks for I.D.”

“No thanks.” He shook his head firmly. “I won’t ever start drinking.” I raised an eyebrow.

“Really? You’ll be missin’ out on one of the finer things in life, mate.”

“Maybe so, but I just don’t want to end up…” He trailed off. Sensing where he might be headed, I smiled wryly.

“Like me?”

“Like my mother.” Okay, maybe not. “She’s been… for years. Since after Dad. I don’t think she’s ever going to stop.” I felt some sympathy for him returning.

“Nah, you don’t wanna give up.” I leaned forward and lowered my voice, as if to impart private information. “I used to have a drinking problem… it started interfering with my life, I ended up putting it before everything else, y’know? But the people who cared about me put a stop to it. I got some help, went to a support group – it works, really. I’m better than ever.” Doug stared at me incredulously.

“You drink brandy at seven in the morning! And drive!”

“Yeah, and I was lying about the support group. But it’s good advice… people can change, once they make the decision. Look at you; you’ve made a change today – taken a step forward, grabbed life by the horns.” I took another deep gulp of bourbon and promised myself I’d never stop drinking.

“I don’t know. She’s got this new boyfriend, it’s all kind of…” He began playing with the scattered salt again. I was tempted to mess around with it myself, but still didn’t want to be seen following suit - some standards had to be maintained. Neither of us spoke for a while. Bush’s speech played over yet again through the static of the television, and the traffic outside droned on.

“So how’d you end up learning photography, then?” Doug seemed surprised by the question, but immediately began to answer.

“Well, my high school had this competition – this arts competition, and the winning entries were given free tickets to Disneyland, right? I mean it wasn’t a real competition - they made us all take part anyway. I think the prize was mostly to stop people submitting half-eaten food and calling it modern…” He smiled at the memory. “I could never draw or paint, but there was an old camera in the loft that used to be Dad’s, so I did what I could with that.”

“What’d you photograph?”

“A barn. There was this old, tumbledown place in the field behind my friend’s house. Half of it had sunk beneath the ground in a flood, I think…it had all grass and shrubs around it. I had no clue what I was doing with the camera really, but…”

“But you went on to win the competition?” He laughed briefly.

“God no, that went to someone with actual talent… made a sculpture or something. I got third runner-up, though – free movie tickets. Took my girlfriend.”

“You had a girlfriend?”

“Is that so hard to believe?”

“Yes.”

“I wanted to do Disneyland with her. Still, the Matrix was good.”

“And you kept going with the photography?”

“Well not for a while, but I came back to it. Something I could do to get away from it all.” I nodded sympathetically.

“Suppose you must feel differently now.” He didn’t say anything, but I could tell there was some truth to it. “So…” I signalled to the barman, who picked up his pad, rolling his eyes without much subtlety. “How do you like your steak?”


Sunday 23rd March, 2003
Los Feliz, Los Angeles
8:49pm

“The thing that I’ve found about Los Angeles is that it’s kind of bigger and smaller than I’d expected at the same time.” Doug was talking animatedly. I couldn’t see him clearly in the darkness of the car park – occasionally passing headlights would throw a crescent of light across his face. It seemed unlikely that he could see my expression of intense boredom. I drank from the hip flask.

“Uh huh?”

“Yeah! I mean in some ways… like, I always knew it was a big place, massive city, but you see the landmarks on TV and you sort of expect that they would be right next to each other. Hollywood sign… Walk of Fame… that one high school they’ve shot every teen movie in since the eighties – you just think it’d all be there, but they’re actually like, miles apart from each other! But on the other hand, it’s kind of… like the first time you walk down Main Street USA at Disneyland.”

“I thought you went to the Matrix instead.” I didn’t know why I was fuelling this commentary; it was practically sending me to sleep. The warmth in my stomach didn’t make it much easier to sit through.

“Oh, I’d been before then, when I was little. My Dad took me, we just had to pay that time. But you know how you’ve seen it all on the television and in movies and then you get there, and it’s… it’s just an actual place? Makes it seem smaller, a bit. And you’d think that it’d be warm and pleasantly comfortable here, but it’s actually just a little too hot and kind of airless sometimes.”

“That depends how you prefer your weather though, doesn’t it?”

“I guess. There’s still all the lofty palms and big houses, I suppose - I think the fantasy just tends to outstrip the reality, when you’ve been building expectations your whole life. Cause-” My cellphone rang, interrupting him. Oh thank God.

“Yeah?”

“Hi darling, it’s Renée – so sorry this has taken so long.”

“Ain’t a problem. What’ve you got?”

“She’s dining out at Tangier, nine o’clock – you know where that is, right?”

“Yeah, corner of Hillhurst and Los Feliz. Might have trouble gettin’ in tonight, though.”

“I’ve spoken to one of the bouncers, just try to stay low-key, okay?”

“You’re the boss.” Her breathless laugh crackled down the phone.

“Don’t you forget it, sweetie. I’m heading out now… call Leslie if anything comes up, okay?”

“No worries.” I put the phone back in my pocket, and turned the ignition. “You ready for a night out, Doug?”

“Um…” There was uncertainty in his voice. “Yeah, I’m just not sure that you… how much have you had to drink in the last three hours?” It seemed unlikely that he could see my resentful scowl.

“This car ain’t gonna drive itself, y’know.”

“Yeah, I know, just… let me drive, I’ll be careful and I haven’t been drinking all evening.” I considered for a moment, then reluctantly opened my door and strode around to the passenger’s side, trading seats. The air outside was cooling, but there was a lack of freshness to it; it was something I’d never quite adjusted to. Not bothering with a seatbelt, I leant back in the passenger’s seat, closing my eyes.

As Doug manoeuvred the car out of its space and onto the road, I could feel the familiar pulse of passing lights. It was clear from the sounds of the engine that he was unfamiliar with driving an automatic.

“You own a manual car?”

“I used to.” A few minutes passed in tranquil silence, and I begin to relax. “So she never gave birth?” The question startled me.

“Apparently not.”

“I thought once you started, you kind of… y’know…”

“They were Braxton-Hicks contractions. It’s like a false labour or something, apparently.”

“Oh.” Doug fell silent again for a few seconds. “She’s got to be getting close now though, right? Why would she go out again tonight?”

“She’s a celebrity; they tend to think they’re invincible. She’ll keep on partying and living the glamorous life all the way to the maternity ward, and she’s surrounded by people without the guts to tell her it’s a bad idea. That’s where all these Hollywood types get their drug habits – high pressure lifestyle and no one to say ‘what the hell are you doing?’”

“Well maybe, but… we saw how much pain she was in the other day - surely she wouldn’t want that again. Maybe the information’s unreliable.”

“The information’s never unreliable.”

“But what about that first time, the singer? He wasn’t there, you got the call…”

“The information on Kia is never unreliable.”

“How can you be sure?”

“Remember her assistant, Miss High and Mighty? She leaks information about Kia to the press, all the time. Anything from what she was wearing to the Emmys to the fact that she was lunching at the Newsroom Café on Monday.”

“She was the lead!?” There was a note of outrage in Doug’s voice. “But she was so angry!”

“Yep. She does love to have her little temper tantrums at the photographers.”

“But why?”

“Bitch thinks she’s a step up from us. Higher form of life, y’know? And of course her boss doesn’t suspect, only sees the best in people. Dunno how many tabloid stories’ve come from that girl, but I doubt it’s any small number.”

“But why would she do it?” Doug was clearly angry, feeling the sting of her berating a little deeper.

“Anyone’s guess really, ain’t it? Could be she wants the money, or she likes the feelin’ of power… maybe she just wants to see her face in magazines every other day… or perhaps she thinks the exposure is doing Kia a favour.” Still with my eyes closed, I heard him sigh impatiently, as if infuriated that anyone could be so duplicitous.

“I’ve read, though… those two are meant to be best friends or something, aren’t they?” I shrugged dismissively.

“Welcome to Hollywood – nothing’s real. Your little Disneyland speech wasn’t far off.” The car stopped abruptly and I lurched forward in my seat, opening my eyes in alarm. We were held up at a red light, traffic streaming across our path. I reached for my seatbelt, buckling myself in.

“Sorry, I didn’t mean to stop so suddenly.” Looking across at Doug, I could see his white knuckles gripping the steering wheel in tension. Apparently the kid really disliked hypocrites.

“Just ignore what she said to you. We’re doing a job – she was more responsible than you were.” His posture remained tense. I turned on the car radio, hoping the music might distract him from crashing my car. KLOS was mid-way through “Breaking the Law” by Judas Priest. I smiled. “See, this… this is real music. Your generation should sit up and take note.”

“Oh, I own the album.” Another surprise. Eyebrows raised, I turned to look at him.

“You. Listen to Priest?”

“Uh huh, my dad used to pl-” He paused, hearing a ringing sound. I thought for a moment that it was my cellphone, but Doug began searching his pockets hurriedly, an expression of dread on his face. A car horn sounded behind us.

“Doug, the light’s green.” He was fumbling with his phone.

“Yeah, I know, but it’s really important that I-” I snatched it from him.

“Just drive. This is Nokia, right?” I turned off the radio, then snapped the phone into the cradle on the dash, picking up the call. “Talk.” He looked uncomfortable doing so in my presence, but his eyes remained on the road.

“Louise?”

“Dougie? I can’t hear you, you’re crackling.” The voice belonged to a girl, maybe thirteen or fourteen. She sounded distressed.

“Yeah, I’m in a car right now.” He paused, as if afraid to ask the next question. “Is everything okay?”

“What? I can’t hear you, can you call me back on a payphone?” Doug was clearly struggling not to grab the phone – I could see him eyeing it while he drove. He spoke up.

“I can’t do that right now, Lou. Is Mom okay?”

“I’m not-” There was a pause, and it sounded like the girl was holding back tears. “I don’t know, Dougie - I think things are getting serious with her and Derek. He’s moved in. All his stuff’s in my room and she’s got this… she said she fell, but…” Doug swallowed, a sickened expression on his face. “I don’t wanna be here any more, can I come to L.A. now? Please, Dougie… I’ll get a job, you won’t even have to… I just don’t want to stay here, I can’t stay here, I-” The beep-beeping of a low battery signal drowned out her last few words. “What was that? Don’t go, Dougie, I need you to help me, I can’t take this, please…”

“It’s going to be okay, I’ll look after you. I’ll call you back later, okay?”

“Dougie, no… please…”

“I have to, it’ll run out in a minute. I promise, just stay in your room, I’ll call you later. Okay?” The sound of sobbing came down the phone. Doug looked close to breakdown himself, his eyes were barely on the road. “Okay?”

“…Okay. You promise?”

“I promise.” The line went dead, and Doug heaved a long sigh of desperation. He was clearly out of his depth, blinking and wiping his eyes on his sleeve.

“You still okay to drive, mate?”

“I’m… I’ll be fine.” His eyes re-focused on the road. I nodded, unsure what the right thing to say would be.

“Does your aunt know about this?”

“Aunt Renée? No, she wouldn’t understand. I mean, she’s not really a family-member, just a relative, you know?”

“Yeah, I get it.” Another pause. “You think you’re ready to support someone?” His face showed determination, but little confidence.

“I guess we’ll find out.”

“Look, if you wanna borrow some money, or-”

“Let’s just do the job.” He wanted to do this for himself - I respected that.

“Alright. Park here, on the left.” We walked the last few hundred yards to the restaurant. Tangier is one of L.A.’s most popular eateries, catering to the wealthy. I’d been there once before, taking photos of Portia de Rossi during the period when no one was sure if she was a lesbian. Street parking was limited, and I sure as hell wasn’t paying $5 for the valet service. Walking beside me, Doug’s focus seemed to have returned somewhat to the job at hand.

“Aren’t you worried about how we’re going to be received?”

“Your aunt made an arrangement with one of the doormen, we shouldn’t have trouble gettin’ in.”

“What about her bodyguard? The huge guy…”

“I doubt she’d bring private security when the place has its own bouncers.”

“You doubt?” There was an edge of panic in his voice. The bodyguard had clearly made an impression.

“He ain’t gonna be there.” I spoke with more conviction than I actually had - some celebrities feel that no security is too much. Still, there was no sense testing Doug’s strength of will unnecessarily.

Outside the restaurant, I left him waiting whilst I spoke to the bouncer, then signalled him to follow me inside. The interior was decorated exotically - dark wooden furniture and patterned tapestries, lit by Moroccan lanterns. I thought for a moment that Doug was marvelling at the décor, but it seemed more likely that he was looking out for Kia’s bodyguard.

“Relax,” I said, guiding him over to a vacant padded bench near the entrance, “I’m told they ain’t here yet.” Doug nodded and began unpacking the camera, determination still perceptible in his eyes. He gestured across the room.

“That guy is.” I glanced over and saw the tall, pale man who had been seated in the café, days earlier. I regarded him with interest.

“Keep an eye on him. We don’t want anyone stealin’ our exclusive. Again.” Doug shot me a slightly wounded glance. “Just don’t let anyone intimidate you this time, alright?”

“I wasn’t before, I just…” Seeming unsure how to explain himself, he returned to hurriedly adjusting the camera. Feeling sympathy, I tried a gentler approach.

“Listen - no one’s got the moral high ground here. If it weren’t for the media, these people wouldn’t have their starring roles or massive homes and fast cars. Being in the spotlight is what they’ve worked for their entire life, and they get the whole package, even if that includes being photographed sometimes when they might not feel like it. Yeah, it’s a downside to their job, but in return they get to realise their dreams. Stardom is what these people live and die for, and we’re a part of that.” He nodded. The stress was still evident on his face, but he seemed slightly less conflicted. We sat quietly, while he continued tinkering with the camera, and I eyed the bar longingly.

“Oh my GOD!” I looked up; the red-haired form of Kia’s assistant was storming towards us. She marched up to Doug, and launched into her usual diatribe. “Who the hell do you think you are? Where do you get off, following Kia around, don’t you have anything better to do? You’re sick… after what you did to her, you people are sick!” Doug carefully set down the camera, almost shaking with barely-contained anger. I wondered whether I should have kept the details of her hypocrisy to myself. Her sermon on the evils of the press was coming to a peak when she was interrupted by Kia’s appearance behind her.

“Lori, what’s going-” She stopped short, as her weary eyes fell on me. If it was possible to look more exhausted and pregnant than she had on Monday, she did now. I couldn’t help feeling slightly sorry for her. With barely a pause, she put her hand on Lori’s arm, turning. “Come on, let’s just go.”

“We don’t have to, they’ll kick these two out! I’ll get th-”

“Don’t bother, Lori, let’s just go home.” I wondered whether the night out had truly been her idea, or yet another photo opportunity she’d been steered into. Her assistant’s protestations were interrupted by a quiet voice.

“Ms Yates?” It belonged to the pale man, who was standing oddly, a few feet away. He spoke with an effeminate, almost child-like quality. Lori turned to him.

“Kia won’t be signing any autographs this evening, could you please leave her in peace?”

“Oh, that’s okay… I have something for her…” He reached into his jacket pocket. Kia stepped forward.

“Listen, that’s so kind of you, but I really can’t accep-” There was a hissing thud, and Kia fell silent, a strange look of confusion in her eyes. A splash of dark red was spreading outwards from the centre of her chest. Her hand pressed against the wound. Staring dazedly downwards, she lowered it instinctively, clutching her belly. Forcing my eyes away from the wound, I could see that the man was holding a silenced pistol, a wide-eyed grin spread across his face.

He giggled softly, covering his mouth like an infant. Another thud sounded and Kia’s head snapped backward from the impact. She fell to the floor in slow-motion, her limbs splayed at a sickening angle. The man was sidling towards the fire exit, as gasps of shock began to come from surrounding tables.

Lori was spattered in blood. Shrieking in terror, she collapsed against the nearest table in a fit of tears. Numb with shock, I fell to the floor and grabbed hold of Kia’s body. The dead celebrity’s eyes stared straight through me, as the colour slowly drained from her face. An eternity seemed to pass in heavy silence, penetrated only by Lori’s wailing at the next table.

My stupor was broken by a blink of light from behind me. Then another. Turning slowly, my eyes focused on Doug. My camera was in his hands. Raising it slowly to his eye, he took another photograph. He met my gaze.

“Can you move? You’re blocking the frame.” In horror, I shuffled backwards to rest against the wall as the flash blinked again and again, capturing her corpse from every angle. I couldn’t watch. A cold sense of guilt and revulsion was trickling through my chest. I stared down at my hands. Her blood had seeped up right underneath the fingernails. I was about to be a very rich man.