Close Up: Exposure Book Three Read online

“Yes,” I said with a smile. “I do.”

  “Follow me. By the way, I don’t think that you’re going to be working with the homeless anymore. I’m sure you’ll be happy to know that.”

  I had mixed emotions about that. I thought that was a good assignment for me, really.

  “But I think that you might have something related to that. I think that you might be working on a Freegan investigation.”

  I smiled. Freegans were people who lived off of recycled food, not out of necessity, but because they don’t want to contribute to the diminishment of resources. Eating food that is thrown away is a way of doing this. The homeless lived the same way, of course, as dumpster diving was a way of life for them as well. So, Candace was right – doing an article on Freeganism would be similar to doing one on the homeless.

  I got to the editor’s office, and Sally swiveled around in her chair. She was around fifty, with black curly hair and light blue eyes that were hidden behind glasses with thick dark rims. She smile and stood up when she saw me. “CJ, what a pleasant surprise! I didn’t think that you would be back so soon.” Then she came to me and gave me a big hug. “How are you, kid?”

  “I’m okay. I’ve been better.”

  “I heard.” She shook her head. “What an ordeal, huh? It’s so ironic, because we have a planned feature on underground sex clubs, and you actually lived it. I would ask you to contribute to this article, but I certainly wouldn’t want to spin you into PTSD or anything.”

  “Thanks for that. I don’t think that I’m ready to confront that part of my life. Although I don’t really remember it at all.”

  “Sit down,” she said, and I did. She sat on her desk and studied me. “So, you don’t remember what happened? Would you be able to revisit these sites and would that trigger you?”

  I shook my head. “I’d rather not. I mean, if I had memories of what had happened, I feel that I could contribute to the article. But, as it is, I have zero memory of all of that, so…I…” I trailed off. I didn’t quite know what to tell her. There was a part of me that was absolutely, positively, terrified of going back to these places. I was afraid that I would get sucked into it again.

  “Never mind,” she said with a dismissive wave. “The last thing I want is for you to go all cray. Okay, so I’m going to start you back with something light and easy. There are a group of Freegans who meet at Zuccotti Park every Monday at 6. Go down there and check it out. Befriend some of them, follow them around, and, well, become a Freegan. Are you up for that?”

  “Sure. I don’t mind dumpster diving. I used to have a roommate who did that, and I was always surprised by how good the food was that she found in the trash.”

  “Good. In the meantime…” At that, she trailed off because the phone was ringing. “I need to get this. I’ll see you later in your office, huh?”

  I nodded my head and went back to my office and shut the door. There were a stack of photos on my desk that I was supposed to review, and I started in on that. It was exciting to be there, really, because I always hoped that I would be able to get a job like this when I got out of school.

  I went to meet the freegans that evening in the park. I introduced myself to a tall guy with dreadlocks that were held back by a bandanna. With his tattooed sleeve, light eyes and pale skin, he had the laid-back vibe of a hippy. He was also smoking hot.

  He barely nodded his head when I showed up. I gave him my hand, and he shook it. His skin was warm yet calloused.

  “Hey,” he said. “You must be the reporter who I heard about.”

  “I am. My name is CJ.”

  “Rob.” He swept his hand around to some of the people who were hanging around the park. “We convene here to talk about our experiences with Freeganism, invite some folks we know, and have some meals with the food that we found.”

  I smiled at him using the word “convene.” It was such a formal word, really, and it seemed just a little bit odd coming out of this guy.

  I walked with him to a make-shift shelter that had tables and burners of food cooking. There was a pot of meatless chili that looked scrumptious, and another concoction that looked like it was made of a variety of root vegetables. Rice was in yet another burner, and there were all kinds of people surrounding the food with paper plates. They all looked like Rob in many ways, with tattoos, various piercings and ripped clothes the norm.

  I realized that I was starving, so I got in line and filled my paper plate with the offerings while Rob told me about how these items were found.

  “Basically, this stuff was found in various dumpsters around the city. Pete here is the cook, and he’s able to create some pretty great things with what is found.”

  I shook Pete’s hand, and he proceeded to tell me a bit more about the movement. “It’s not just for us,” he said. “Although we all have the same type of ethics, and that is that our world wastes far too much. Our movement is, in some small way, an attempt to recycle some of that waste. When we eat our meals from the dumpster, it means that there is that much less food that needs to be harvested for our needs. It’s no different than using recycled paper or recycled metals.”

  I nodded. “You said earlier that it’s not just for you. Who else do you serve?”

  He sweeped his hand around, and I noticed that there were several men and women in line who didn’t look like the others. They looked more homeless than hippy. “We find folks who are living on the street and invite them to commune with us here in the park. We always have plenty of food, so we’re always happy to share.”

  I smiled, and sat down at a picnic table with about five other Freegans and two men who looked like they lived on the streets. Their clothes were tattered, their teeth were missing, their hair was uncombed, and one of the guys smelled like urine. But, nonetheless, they seemed to get along well with the others.

  I had to admit that these people seemed more to be my people than Asher did. The entire idea of anti-consumerism was something that appealed to me and always did. I guessed because it was the way that I was raised. I never had anything growing up, but I didn’t really want for anything, either.

  Even so, I felt a pang just thinking about Asher. I did love him, I realized, but there was just such a gulf between us. I wanted, so badly, to overcome it, but I just couldn’t.

  I noticed a homeless guy looking at me interestedly while he ate his food. It made me feel uncomfortable, but I tried to hide it. I had no idea what he wanted with me, but he stared at me throughout the meal.

  I joined in the lively conversation that the Freegans were having about the upcoming presidential election, and how none of them felt like they could vote for any of the candidates in good conscience, since they were all bought and paid for by special interests. All the while, the homeless dude was still staring at me intently.

  “I don’t know,” I said to a girl who was one of the more vocal ones to denounce all politicians and special interests. “Sometimes a special interest can be beneficial. Like, say, Sloane Industries. That is one corporation that does a lot of good in the world, and I know that it’s active in addressing Congress to try to press for favorable trade legislation and the like. And don’t you think it’s best to try to work with the power brokers? How else can we affect change?”

  She made a face. “Sloane Industries is just as shady as any other corporation. It exploits smaller companies around the globe that are actually trying to supply this energy to their own country. It’s a juggernaut, so it puts all these local companies out of business, and the workers lose their jobs. The locals who worked so hard in order for their products to get market share find that they’re unemployed by the time Sloane Industries gets a foothold.”

  I felt uncomfortable with such a critique, so I went back to my chili and tried to ignore the homeless guy, whose eyes were still boring a hole into me.

  “But it does good work,” I said meekly. “If not for Sloane Industries, there wouldn’t be such cheap sources of alternative energy. I do understand that
local companies are put out of business by his corporation, but he’s able to supply these energy sources at a price that the people can afford them. So, that makes the energy that much more widespread. I don’t know why that’s considered to be a bad thing.”

  “I suppose you support Wal-Mart for the same reason. It makes things more affordable for the everyday consumer. But it’s bad for local businesses. In fact, it’s destroyed them. Sloane Industries is no different, and it’s just as exploitive as Wal-Mart is.”

  “I-“ I began, because I really wanted to defend Asher, but the homeless guy who had been staring at me from across several tables was now at my table. He put his hand on my arm.

  “CJ,” he said. “Is that you?”

  I suddenly understood. He was no doubt one of the guys that I had gotten to know before I was abducted. “It is. I’m so sorry, I forgot your name.”

  He looked hurt. “We spent every day together. My name is Sam.”

  I gave him my hand. “Sam. It’s good to meet you again. I’m sorry that I didn’t remember you, but I had an accident, and I lost much of my memory. Please don’t take it personally.”

  He nodded his head and seemed to understand. “It was because of the abduction, wasn’t it? That you lost your memory?”

  I looked over at the girl I was debating the ethics of Sloane Industries with, and said “would you excuse me?” And then I turned to Sam. “Let’s go somewhere and talk.”

  We went over to a grassy area that was out of the way of the Freegans and all the other people who were milling about the park. “What do you know about my abduction?” I asked him.

  “There was a man and a pretty blonde woman who were there. They pushed you into a van and that was the last I saw of you. I’ve worried about you ever since.”

  I nodded my head. This was the first time I heard the term “pretty blonde woman” in conjunction with my abduction. I was, quite frankly, surprised.

  Then it struck me. Pretty blonde woman. I wondered what Sophie looked like.

  I blinked rapidly. Sophie, Asher’s ex-girlfriend, was able to direct him to where I was. Might she have been behind all of it?

  But what did that mean? Did it mean anything?

  It did mean something. But what?

  Was it even her?

  “Sam,” I said. “What did this blonde woman look like?”

  “Tall, thin, beautiful.”

  “Did you tell anybody this? About the blonde woman?”

  “No, but I was the only one who saw her. She was only there for a flash. I wasn’t there when that other beautiful blonde woman came around to ask about what happened to you. I’m sorry, CJ, I wish that I could have told somebody about this.”

  All of a sudden, I felt that I needed to talk to Asher. Right that very second.

  “Would you excuse me, Sam?” I said. “I need to talk to somebody right now.”

  “Of course,” he said. “It’s good to see you, CJ. We were all worried about you. We all thought that you were dead. That’s why I was staring at you so much – I couldn’t believe that it was you.” At that, he gave me a spontaneous hug, and I hugged him back. I felt for this guy. I knew that he had been looking out for me, and that meant something.

  I went up to Rob, the organizer of the Freegan meal, and told him that I had to beg off for the evening. “But I’ll be back next week, I promise. I also need to get in contact with you to arrange a time when I can come with you on one of these runs. Would that be okay?”

  “Sure.”

  At that, I called Asher, who picked up on the second ring.

  “CJ,” he said. “I was just thinking about you. I’m glad that you called me.”

  “Asher,” I said. “We need to talk.”

  Chapter Eight

  Asher picked me up in the park about a half hour later. He was back to using his limo, and I got in with him in the back.

  “I’m sorry for throwing you out,” he said.

  “I’m sorry for making you throw me out. That was all my fault.”

  He kissed me gently, and all reason flew out of my head.

  I sighed and laid back on the seat. His hands, his masculine, beautiful hands, were casually going through my hair, and stroking my cheek.

  Then I suddenly sat up. “No,” I said. “I called you for a reason, and it wasn’t this.” That was what my words were saying, but my body was still craving him. His hands left a trail of heat all up and down my body, and I felt like screaming.

  He looked at me questioningly, and I said “Sophie. Was she behind my abduction by any chance?”

  I saw by the way that his face got red that my hunch was correct. “How did you find out?”

  “There was a homeless guy that I saw this evening at this Freegan event, and he remembered seeing a blonde woman with the guy who pushed me into the van. Apparently he never told anyone this piece of information, though.”

  I was tapping my toes, waiting for his answer.

  He finally nodded his head. “I can explain.”

  “You can? You don’t seem very shocked about this. You obviously knew that she did it, because I would imagine that you’ve been in contact with her recently. But you still don’t seem shocked that she would be capable of such a thing. Am I right about that?”

  He raised an eyebrow, and his face got even redder. “On the contrary, I’m not shocked in the least. This is something that she definitely would do. She’s capable of anything.”

  I felt rooted to the seat in shock. “Oh. I see. Sophie is the kind of woman who would be behind an abduction of an innocent person, and yet you slept with her.” I could feel my blood pressure rising with each word I spoke. “Why would you have even spent a single second with a woman like that, let alone get with her? Make me understand, Asher, or I swear to God, I will leave you and you’ll never see me again. That should happen, anyhow, just because you slept with her, but I do want to hear you out.”

  Asher opened his mouth to apparently defend himself, but I found that I wasn’t quite finished with what I had to say.

  “And another thing. This Sophie person is the mother of your child. That would mean that, if I marry you, she will always be in our lives. That’s a deal-breaker right there. Believe me, I know about contentious situations between ex spouses who co-parent, and I want no part of that. None. Especially if the other parent happens to be psychotic, as this Sophie person evidently is.”

  Asher looked stricken, and looked as if he was wanting to say something to me. He opened his mouth and closed it several times. He paced around the room, his hand going through his hair, over and over and over. He pointed at me, and his mouth opened again. And then he shook his head. “No. I can’t go through with this.” Then he seemed to change his mind again. “CJ, please meet my father. Please agree to marry me. If you can do all that, then I’ll tell you the truth about everything that went down between Sophie and me. Everything. But I can’t say a word about it until I know that you are protected 100%.”

  “What do you mean, the truth? You mean that there’s more that you’re lying about?”

  “Yes, but it’s a good lie this time.”

  I almost laughed out loud when he said that. “A good lie? Is there any such thing? No, Asher, you might think that all these lies and these secrets are things that are meant to protect me, but I’m here to tell you that they’re not. And it’s no way to base a relationship.”

  “I know that.” He seemed exasperated with the whole thing. “Listen, there are things that you still don’t know about Sophie, and her intentions regarding you. She knows some powerful people in this city, people who won’t play games next time. She has me by the balls at the moment, just because she’s made some credible threats about your safety. She’s playing a game with both of us, and she’s playing to win. That’s why I need you to be under the umbrella of a man who’s even more powerful than the men that she knows. That’s the only way to win a war, is to bring more firepower than the other side. And that’s what t
his is, CJ. It’s war between Sophie and me, and you’re right in the middle.”

  “Oh, I see. Basically, you and I can’t be together unless we’re married. Is that it? If you and I stay together, another abduction is going to magically happen, and next time, I won’t make it out alive?”

  “Yes,” he said. “That’s it.”

  “How romantic. You want to marry me because you want to save my life.” I was being sarcastic when I said that, but, at the same time, I was touched. “I can’t marry you under those conditions, Asher. I want you to want to marry me because you want to marry me, not because if you don’t, I’ll be rubbed out.”

  “Goddammit, CJ,” Asher said, his anger coming seemingly out of nowhere again. It was much like the last time he got angry, which also came out of the clear blue sky. I made a mental note to notice the signs that he was about to blow and try to calm him down before that happened the next time. “Why are you being so hard-headed again? I love you, I want to be with you forever. All that is true, so why does it matter that, yes, us getting married is literally a matter of life or death for you?”

  “No it’s not. If we weren’t together, then I would be safe, wouldn’t I?”

  Asher looked like he was about to blow. “No. You wouldn’t be safe. If you can recall, your abduction happened before during a time when you and I were over for good. Ironically, it was what brought us back together. But I had said goodbye to you, yet Sophie still saw fit to do that to you.”

  “Why didn’t she just have me rubbed out and get me out of the way completely? I don’t understand why she would pussy-foot like that if she really wanted to get rid of me.”

  “Because she didn’t really want to get rid of you. She’s playing a game, CJ. Her psychological games are twisted, and simply getting rid of you wouldn’t be fun for her. She evidently wants to make sure that you and I can never be together. Her having you abducted was really a shot across the bow, so to speak. There will be more. Trust me on this.”

  “Oh, I believe you. I still don’t believe that you would sleep with a woman like that, though. I really don’t.”