An Accidental Affair Read Online Free Page B

open road. That was his description of himself. I’d steal a line from a Janis Ian song, “Society’s Child,” and say that his face was clean and shining black as night. He was bald, wore frameless glasses, expensive black suit.
    I excused myself and went to Driver.
    He said, “This isn’t the place I recommended. I said the Park Regency Club.”
    “Well, I saw this one first and its beauty caught my eye.”
    “We’re going to have to get your eyes checked, Thicke. Your mind too.”
    “It’s not as nice as Park Regency Club Apartments. They have a nicer gate. But this will do. Five freeways are nearby. Food Lion and Target and Starbucks and a lot of other shopping are right up Imperial. If I decide to leave or need to clear my head, the Metro station is within walking distance. Downtown L.A. in about twenty minutes. Long Beach in about the same time.”
    “Yeah. It’s not for me to question, Thicke.”
    “Reminds me of my childhood.”
    He repeated, “Not for me to question.”
    “I know that it makes no sense to you. But at the moment it does tome. I need the world to stop. I need the off button. I just want some time. I just want to rest and be by myself. If I can’t make it stop, maybe I’ll just go back to the days I used to sell gum and sodas on the streets.”
    “No need to explain. I just follow orders and collect my check.”
    I said, “You packed the whole damn cottage.”
    “That one-bedroom cottage is your office. And you said to pack your office.”
    “You overdid it.”
    “What were your instructions?”
    “To pack everything in my office.”
    “Well, leave what you don’t want inside the truck and I’ll take it back.”
    “It’s here now. I’ll make it work out.”
    “I’m done for the day. Let me take off my coat and help.”
    “One of the neighbors is helping. Looks like he’s going to see it through.”
    Driver said, “Regina Baptiste didn’t return to the house.”
    “I called her publicist’s office and no one would talk to me. Same for her management team. Her mom and dad haven’t heard from her and had the nerve to ask me what I had done.”
    “Johnny Handsome?”
    “I messed him up pretty bad.”
    “Yeah. His daddy, Moses Bergstein, was being interviewed. Daddy is outraged. Word is he was a gangster when he was back east, decades ago. Johnny is the only one he sent to college. Then this acting thing jumped off and made that family like a thugged-out royal family.”
    “If you hear something about Johnny, let me know. If you find him, call me. I don’t care if his old man was John Gotti or Al Capone, I would love to pick up where we left off.”
    “With legerity.”
    Driver took in the worn complex, then eased back inside the town car and drove away.
    Mr. Holder had continued moving boxes to the edge of the truck in my short absence. Isabel watched the town car as it left the complex, then she regarded me in search of answers.
    Mr. Holder asked, “Who was that?”
    “He was lost. Gave him directions.”
    Ten minutes later another one of the neighbors had stopped and spied inside the truck. She was in her late-twenties, breathing hard, very sweaty. She wore black workout gear, low-rise sweats, the jacket opened over her soaking-wet sports bra. She was five-ten, her hair in a ponytail that hit the middle of her back, and she held a half-empty water bottle in her left hand.
    She said, “After sixteen years you’re finally moving out of this dump, Mr. Holder?”
    “No, helping this young man with his belongings. Elevator is out.”
    She looked at me with familiarity, and then she smiled. “Oh, hi.”
    Mr. Holder said, “Varg, this is Mrs. Patrice Evans. Mrs. Evans, this is Varg Veum.”
    She swallowed before she asked, “What do you do, Varg?”
    I paused, thought, and then gave her eye contact. “Photographer.”
    “Praise the Lord. My husband and I need a photographer. You have a card?”
    “Not at the moment. My hands are full at present. Maybe I’ll