I Thee Bed...

He suddenly blinked. Dammit, Judge Diana was staring at him, and she gave the impression she’d been doing so for some time. “Yes?” he managed.

“Did you hear a word I said, Mr. Delaney?”

With her dark eyes scrutinizing him, Jimmy decided it was probably better not to lie. “No. I’m sorry.”

“Is your own sentencing boring you?”

He shook his head.

She sighed. “For your inattention alone, I should send you to Riker’s Island.”

Riker’s Island? Ches had indicated that if Jimmy received a jail term, it would be in some cushy place for white-collar criminals. He felt Ches’s hand close over his forearm, as if Ches feared Jimmy might suddenly lunge past the judge and run for freedom.

Judge Diana was eyeing him again. Using an index finger, she pushed the black-framed glasses toward the bridge of her very straight, patrician nose. “I see you studied fine art before you went into your current occupation.”

What did that have to do with anything? “I was an art photographer, yes.”

“And now you’re pretty merciless, aren’t you, Mr. Delaney? You dress in disguises, which makes it difficult to catch you in the act while you peep in windows and the like?”

“Not exactly how I’d put it.” He wanted to add, “I’ve forgone many of the usual life pleasures, just to bring the American public the kind of pictures it most loves.” Instead, he said, “I’m going to honor the order of protection, Judge.” The truth was, he’d already done so, and she knew it, but the Darden’s security staff and legal team were turning up the heat as the wedding day neared, hoping to keep Jimmy away from Julia. They’d even insinuated he’d chased a Darden limousine, trying to get a shot of Julia, and that the car had swerved dangerously, but that was a blatant lie.

Yes he’d honored the order of protection, so far, but the Darden’s security team was starting to pose just the kind of challenge Jimmy relished. After all, he’d done the right thing, only to be punished. Besides, he did want pictures of the wedding. Celebrity Weddings magazine had an exclusive, but if anybody else could get in to shoot pictures, it would be Jimmy. Suddenly, a plan began to form in his mind. Surely, there was a way to get inside the Darden estate….

Only the pounding of the gavel brought his attention back to the judge. “All and all, Mr. Delaney,” she said, “I think you’ll find my sentence of community service fair. You will, of course, adhere to all existent orders of protection against you. That goes without saying. In addition, beginning tomorrow at the Little Red Schoolhouse on Bleeker and Sixth Avenue, from nine o’clock until noon, and for the next six weeks, you’ll meet with the shutterbugs.”

Community service? What was she talking about? Pictures he’d taken of Kiefer Sutherland picking up trash along the L.A. freeway shot through his mind. Surely, he wasn’t going to be wearing orange and cleaning public parks. Then the word registered. “Shutterbugs?”

Judge Diana nodded. “My juvie offenders. Believe me, I’ve got a bunch. This morning, an officer told me his evidence room is overflowing with camera equipment that can’t be returned which was why he couldn’t find some drug money for three months after he’d confiscated it. This should kill three birds with a stone.”

“Three birds?” muttered Ches.

She nodded. “The officer, the kids and Mr. Delaney.”

“Juvie offenders?” Jimmy managed. He’d been a lone child, and the only kids he knew lately were Ches and Elsa’s sons, and they weren’t even old enough to call him “Uncle Jimmy” yet. “I’m sorry, Judge, but I don’t know how to teach—”

An elbow to the gut nearly took away his breath. Judge Diana, who’d seemed to catch the action, smiled. “I see your attorney, uh…” She paused, her smile broadening. “Gets the picture.”

A second later, Jimmy was blinded by a series of white flashes, and in the next heartbeat, he realized his own buddies had circled to the front of the courtroom to snap his slack-jawed expression. Already, he could see the picture in the Post or the Daily News. The text would read something like, From Julia to Juvies. Didn’t these guys care that selling such a photo would publicize his face, making him that much easier to spot, endangering his ability to work? “With friends like these,” he muttered, “who needs enemies?”

And then thankfully, Judge Diana saved Jimmy’s day by saying, “Bailiff, please confiscate all the cameras.”

“THIS WEEK, YOUR ASSIGNMENT is to shoot two rolls of film, then next week, we’ll start learning how to develop them in the darkroom here at the school. Are there any more questions about the basic operation of the cameras?”

The fifteen kids, ranging in age from ten to fifteen, shook their heads, and eleven-year-old Melissa Jones shuddered with pleasure. Every time she’d looked at her hero during the past three hours, she’d almost swooned. She loved tabloids, as well as watching shows like Entertainment Tonight, so she was completely familiar with Jimmy Delaney’s work, not to mention a super-fan. She’d never have expected him to be such a hunk, though. He was so supercute. Supercool, too. Even the tougher, older kids weren’t giving him a hard time. She raised her hand again, just so he’d notice her. “Do we get to take the camera home today, Mr. Delaney?”

“Yes. Like I said, you’re supposed to take pictures this week, okay? And you can’t do that unless you take the cameras. But don’t forget to be careful with the equipment. It’s the property of the state.”

“Yo, bro,” said a kid in front of her to one of his friends. “That means we don’t hawk them on Canal Street.”

“That’s right,” agreed Jimmy. “But Chinatown would be a great place to take pictures.” After turning to write a number on the blackboard, he began going from desk to desk, to double-check cameras and film. “That’s my number on the board. Call me at home if you have questions.”

His home number! Very carefully, Melissa copied it into her pink notebook, feeling her hands getting sweatier as he neared her desk. Setting down her pencil with shaking fingers, she slicked her palms down the sides of her jeans, shuddered, then smoothed her dark hair away from her face.

Jimmy’s straight fine jet-black hair was cut very short, and even though he’d slicked it back, it stuck almost straight up, just the way Matt Damon and Ben Affleck wore theirs. He had a very square jaw, dark, liquid eyes, and a tiny dot of a mole beside his mouth.

Supersexy, Melissa thought. Yes, if she had realized that being a criminal would help her meet Jimmy Delaney, she’d have started shoplifting and maxing out her mother’s credit cards on catalog shopping way back in the first grade. Suddenly, sadness twisted inside her as her mind flashed on her last arrest in Bloomingdale’s. Her parents had looked so devastated. That was the word her mother had kept using—devastated.

But could Melissa help it if she was bored? And if her parents were always so mad at her?

“We’ve given you everything!” her mother had exclaimed between sobs, after she’d spoken with the security staff and watched her daughter on the videotape, stealing a pair of men’s leather gloves. Her father, who had been a lot less kind, had said Melissa could, “forget about taking any time-outs.” Both her parents had said she was a selfish girl, but Melissa didn’t understand how they could have arrived at that. She always gave money to Jack Stevens, the homeless man who slept over the grate beneath the fire escape below her apartment. And the gloves had been for him.

Jack didn’t really seem homeless, anyway. Since he was the first street person to whom Melissa had ever spoken, she’d been very surprised and had completely revised her opinion about homelessness. He’d once had a really nice apartment uptown, but after he’d lost his job, his wife had left, which was bad timing because it turned out his son needed an operation, and the insurance had lapsed, which meant the medical expenses had wiped Jack out financially. His son was better now, but he was with Jack’s wife, and Jack missed them both so much that he’d started drinking, which had made things go from bad to worse. Now, Jack really thought he could turn things around if he could get into a rehab center, but treatment would cost several thousand dollars.

See? Melissa fumed. She knew all about Jack’s life! Didn’t that show she was unselfish? She had what people called empathy, too. She definitely understood Jack’s financial crunch. While her mother said Melissa had been given everything, it wasn’t really true. Melissa wanted a horse, for instance, and she could easily relate that to Jack’s feelings about his son.

She’d wanted a horse for over a year, ever since she’d seen the movie, Black Beauty, and when she’d asked, her father had said, “Maybe.” Later, he’d gone on to say that it was more complex than just getting a horse, since they lived in New York City and would need to board it. When Melissa had suggested they move to Wyoming, her father had just laughed at her.

Well, she’d show him! Opening the back of her camera, she slowly inserted the film just as Jimmy had illustrated for the class. The key to success in business was filling a niche. She’d heard her father say it a thousand times. And now, with Jimmy Delaney gone from the paparazzi business, there was a niche to fill. Since Melissa’s dad had been a linebacker for the NFL before retiring and becoming a sportscaster for a network, Melissa could get access to TV studios. The network even had an after-school program that Melissa had previously refused to attend.

Who could shoot celebrities more easily than a kid, after all? Adults never noticed kids. Melissa couldn’t believe she hadn’t thought of this before. If she wanted to do so, she could even get supersexy pictures in the girls’ dressing rooms. If everything went as planned, she could sell the pictures, earn enough money to buy a horse, and then she wouldn’t even be tempted to steal in the future.

Not that Jimmy was directly suggesting the kids should go into his line of work. But he’d chosen it, hadn’t he? And that meant he’d decided it was a good job. Now, all Melissa had to do was convince Jack Stevens to help her sell the pictures she took. She’d need a grown-up to do things such as open a bank account. She could almost see the beautiful black stallion she was going to buy, and maybe…

Jimmy Delaney paused beside her desk. “What kind of pictures do you want to shoot this week, Melissa?”

When he leaned down, close to her desk, Melissa could smell a faint tinge of soap and aftershave lotion. She wanted to tell him he was so beautiful that he could be a movie star, but she only sent him a huge smile. “Close-up shots of flowers mostly,” she said sweetly. “Maybe you can teach me how to make them look soft and fuzzy,” she continued, trying to make her voice sound breathless. “The way they do in the art magazines.” She paused. “How much money do you make when you sell things to the Post?”

His eyes widened. “When class began, I said I wasn’t going to talk about that,” he said, leaning even closer.

Her dark eyes locked with his. “Ballpark?”

For a moment, he was still, then his shoulders started shaking and he laughed. “Soft and fuzzy flowers,” he repeated. “I’ll be happy to give you some pointers on that, Melissa.”

Melissa. She blew out a slow, shivery breath, barely able to believe that Jimmy Delaney—the Jimmy Delaney—had called her by her first name. Ever since the incident at Bloomingdale’s, she’d been so depressed, but now life was looking up! And regarding her question about picture fees, Melissa wasn’t the least bit concerned. She was a whiz on the Internet, and absolutely no information had ever eluded her.

2

“WHY DON’T WE MOVE into the front room again?” Edie Benning suggested, glancing between a dark-haired woman named Stacy LaPaglia and her husband-to-be, Reggie Hammer. The Darden wedding aside, business was slow, so Edie couldn’t afford to alienate even one client. She was doing her best to be diplomatic and fulfill the couple’s desires; yet, she could hardly let Stacy and Reggie remain in the conference room, perusing notes, sketches and lists pertaining to the Darden event. “Really, what we most strive to do at Big Apple Brides,” Edie coaxed, “is to make each wedding absolutely unique. I want to concentrate on you and Reggie, Stacy, on any special needs you two may have as a couple, and on your own dreams and goals….”

Stacy only moved closer to the board table, grasping her fiancé’s hand and dragging him with her as she lifted a sketch of Julia’s gown, which Edie’s mother, Viv, a seamstress, had been commissioned to help design and make. “So, this is a picture of the gown Julia Darden’s wearing?”

“Uh…yes,” Edie managed. “It is, but as you and Reggie probably understand, we’re keeping her and Lorenzo Santini’s plans as private as possible.”

“But most of the preparations have been made public in Celebrity Weddings magazine,” countered Stacy, “which is why Reggie and I are hiring you.”

“I appreciate that, but…” Vaguely, Edie gestured toward the front room again, wishing these two would take the hint, so she wouldn’t have to become more explicit. While what Stacy had said was true, other notes on the table pertained to less public matters, such as the security strategies for the Darden wedding, and that really was private. Thankfully, the notes involving security weren’t in plain view.

“Since you do like Julia’s dress,” Edie ventured, “I’ve got a sense of your taste now, and have some others I’d like to show you. In fact, in the next room, I’ve got photographs I believe you’ll be very interested in seeing, Stacy—”