Josh’s face had a huge smile. “I’m glad you’re finally there. I about had a heart attack when I heard the doorbell.”
“We’re all going to be like that for quite a while,” he said. “It’s hard to shake.”
“I was just telling Lu that I’ll be working at Eric’s company this summer!”
“That’s awesome,” Nate said. “They’re very lucky.”
“I certainly hope so. I’ll try to keep up,” Josh said. “So, uh, I guess you guys must have some stuff to catch up on, so I’ll call you back later. And hey, Nate?”
“Yeah?”
“You will look out for her, right? All the time?”
“I’m not taking my eyes off her for one second,” Nate said. “If she’ll let me.”
“Hey, Lu?” Josh’s voice hardened. “Let him.”
“Thank you for your input, Joshie,” she called.
Josh’s image froze, and then winked off.
For a few moments, they couldn’t look away from each other.
“Wow,” Nate said softly. “You look fucking gorgeous.”
Elisa looked down at herself, hair tangled, paint-stained overalls, her paint-spotted bare feet, and laughed out loud. “Why thank you, sir,” she said primly. “You look pretty appetizing yourself.”
Nate turned to her new painting, examined it for a few minutes, and looked back at her, eyes wide. “You’ve released the beast,” he said. “God help us all.”
She laughed. “Thanks, I guess. Eric and Demi just got back and came over to say hi, and Eric really likes it. He already wants to buy it, for God’s sake. Plus five more like it, for the lobby of the Erebus building. That would be one hell of a job. And he has no idea what I’ll produce.”
“Are you’re afraid he’ll be disappointed?”
Elisa shrugged. “He wouldn’t be the first.”
“Are you by any chance talking about that shitbag, Alan Herzog? The one who panned your show?”
“Yeah, I guess. Him, and various other dissenting opinions. It’s hard to forget what he said.” Though now that she thought about it, that humiliation seemed very small and far away now. Mortal danger put the small shit into perspective very fast.
“News flash,” he said. “Alan Herzog was on Erasma’s tape. Mace told me while I was with Josh, on the plane to Boston. Herzog liked diddling underaged girls, too.”
She gasped. “Holy shit! No way!”
Nate nodded. “So he’s disgraced and ruined. He was staying at a beach home he owns on Rhode Island, not far from Boston, so I went to see him.”
She was bewildered. “Why would you do that? And why would he agree to see you?”
“I can be very persuasive,” Nate said. “And to be honest, he was glad to talk to someone. Nobody wants to go anywhere near him these days.”
“But what’s the point? So Gil blackmailed Herzog into panning my exhibit. It’s unfair and a big shame, but what can anyone do about it now?”
Nate shrugged. “He felt guilty,” he said. “It was eating at him.”
Elisa let out a sharp laugh. “Oh really? After indulging in all that sleazy scumbaggery on Sinclair’s private island with all those young girls? Saying bad things about my paintings is the thing that he loses sleep over?”
“Yeah, people are weird,” Nate agreed. “We talked about it, and after a few drinks, he agreed to make a public statement. About your show.”
“Public how? Where?”
“On social media platforms,” Nate said. “I recorded it. And I uploaded it for him on the spot.”
She was speechless for a long moment, then swallowed. “But…why?”
“Because I wanted to. Because it burned my ass that they fucked with your show.” Nate took out his phone. “Here, let me run this up to the three minute and twenty-three second mark. That’s the part that’s relevant to you. The guy just never shuts up. He practically talked my ear off. Here. Take a look.”
She held his phone in her shaking hand. It felt hot, from his body.
The video was close-up of Herzog’s face, at a bar somewhere on the water. She saw water, heard seagulls. Herzog had salt-and-pepper beard stubble and had let his thinning hair grow too long. He’d gained weight, and he looked seamed and puffy, like he’d been drinking too much and sleeping too little.
“…of my confession, I suppose you’d have to call it,” he was saying. “My misguided attempt to save my own soul. But yes, I do clearly state, for the record, that I was compelled by Gilbert Clemens. He threatened to release a video that would ruin my life if I didn’t give Louisa Roarke’s art exhibit a scathing negative review. But my life is already ruined now. There’s no coming back from