Olivia shot so fast she lost count, then, “I think that does it.”
* * *
Despite the rain and wind and gloom and Porter’s slow progress, Olivia carried a happy vibe back to the station. She didn’t need to wait for a closer inspection of her photographs. She knew in her heart the pictures were first-rate. Once she had made her selection and printed and framed, it might not make up for a daughter missing Christmas. But it would help. Of that she was certain.
Porter’s mind was apparently following a similar path, for he chose that moment to say, “You did us all a world of good back there.”
“I’m glad.” She decided happy wasn’t the proper way to describe this moment. She was still weighed down by everything that had brought her here. Not to mention a cottage that would probably never be her home again. Or how she was traveling back to spend another night in the town jail.
Not to mention that other thing. How, once the roads opened up, she would be playing roomies with the man who broke her heart.
Yes indeed. Definitely a Christmas for the books.
Porter reached over, switched off the police radio, and asked, “So how does a lady from Miramar become a big-time professional down in LA?”
“I was never one of those celebrity photographers. You know, name in lights, chased by the stars, that sort of thing.”
Porter’s smile was weighed down by everything the man carried. But it still warmed the moment. “Oh, go on. Tell me about the stars you met. Name some names.”
“I never do. That was one reason why I became trusted by the producers. See, while a film is being shot, the producers try their best to generate good press. They hire a PR team and a photographer. My job was to make the team look happy while they made a great film.” She leaned her head back, remembering. “My ex gave me my first big break. The photographer he normally used came down with Covid, and he asked me to fill in. He and the director liked my work enough to start using me on a regular basis. Word got around.”
“All of a sudden, your star was on the rise.”
“Something like that. Eventually I had the chance to work with a few older stars. I loved that. They’re constantly worried about being shot when not at their best. You’ve heard the LA adage for female actors? As they age, they’re shunted from playing the hot babe to district attorney to Driving Miss Daisy. It’s during that last phase when my work was most important. These aging actors love their work and want to keep going, which means finding someone they can trust to only share pictures that show them at their very finest.”
Porter waved to someone she couldn’t be bothered to see. “And here you are now, back in little Miramar, photographing a cop and his clan.”
She heard the unspoken question, knew he was offering her a chance to deflect. “My ex ran off with a floozy. I know that word is out of fashion. But that’s exactly what she was. I was certain that was a short-run fling, long before she left him for a stuntman on a steroid diet.”
Porter did his best to keep his laughter inside, and failed. “Sorry. That slipped out.”
“Then the strikes hit the industry, my ex’s company went bankrupt, the film world shut down. I hung on as long as I could, but in the end I lost my home and everything else. And came back just in time to watch where I hoped to live slide off the hillside.”
Porter didn’t speak again until he entered the station parking lot, cut the motor, and shifted in his seat so as to face her. “You’re part of this town. You’ve got friends here. We take care of our own. We’ll help you see your way through this. I don’t know how to say it any plainer than that.”
