Besides, despite my frustration with the results of my labor, I didn’t mind Micah’s company one bit. Even if he hadn’t so brazenly photobombed every picture, my camera would have sought him out on its own. He was the prettiest thing in the room.
After a short time, I ran out of people in the basement to capture. I certainly didn’t need twenty identical posed pictures, so I leaned against the wall to flip through what I’d gotten and see if I could identify anyone worth seeking out later. Most everyone appeared to be musicians which—with the exception of Broadway musicals—wasn’t my scene at all.
Micah apparently didn’t intend to lose sight of his pet paparazza and peered over my shoulder. “So how’d you get into this business?”
The back of his hand brushed against my arm, standing every hair on end, and I inched away for fear of succumbing to a crazy, dead-end infatuation. “My dad’s a photographer. He taught me everything he knew—when he was around.” I flipped through the last few pictures. “Unlike him, I can’t make a living off my photos yet. That’s where you come in.” I looked up to find him hunched over my camera.
His eyes met mine, and my perfidious heart fluttered. “What kinds of photos do you like to take? I’m guessing since you came to New York, you’re not interested in capturing nature in its wildest state.”
Nobody at work had ever bothered to ask me, and they’d be horrified at my silly answer anyway. “To be honest, I like to capture people at their most vulnerable.” When Micah frowned, I realized that made me sound like the worst kind of paparazzo. “No, I don’t mean—”
“Micah!” A short, rotund man whose face was mostly mustache slapped Micah’s shoulder. “Aren’t you going to introduce me to your friend?”
“Of course! Hervé, this is Josie Wilder. She’s the photographer I told you about. Jo, meet Hervé, our host and the best drummer in the world.”
We shook hands. “You’re Hervé? Your place is incredible.”
Hervé tipped an invisible hat. “Micah’s not making you work, is he?”
Micah nudged me with his shoulder. “I’m not making her do anything. She’s one with her camera.”
Hervé winked. “Micah will co-opt all your time if you don’t watch him. But you’re in luck. I need to borrow him away for a bit. If you don’t mind.”
“Of course not.” I had a compulsive urge to bear hug him. Micah was impossibly sweet, and he tempted me to ditch my camera and enjoy his company, but I couldn’t afford to squander this opportunity. I needed just one fortuitous shot to appease my boss.
Before Hervé pulled Micah away, he asked, “Can I at least bring you something to drink?”
“Um, sure. Some water would be fine.”
With Micah gone, I moved around like a deer hunter, seeking out camouflage and trying to blend into the woodwork and eavesdrop on conversations, hoping to hear anything I might be able to carry home to Andy and lay on his doorstep like a dead mouse. But nobody was confessing infidelity or plans for divorce. It might have been too early or else my presence had them on high alert, but every snippet of conversation I overheard was innocuous and useless to me.
“No, I didn’t go to the VMAs this year.”
“How are you enjoying South Hampton?”
“My wife and I went on that cruise line two years ago.”
I inched around to where we’d first encountered Adam playing guitar and settled in to shoot pictures from that angle. A movement in the soundproof booth caught my eye. Adam leaned against the wall, gazing intensely into Eden’s eyes. When my shutter snapped, they couldn’t hear it.
He brushed a strand of hair off her face.Click click. His hand stopped at the back of her head and clutched her hair in his fist.Click click.Her hand came up and grabbed his. Her engagement ring caught the light.Click click.They stared at each other like they were seeing each other for the first time. A pang of jealousy hit me. I’d never felt anything close to that kind of connection to another person. They were so obviously in love.Click click.
Then Adam stepped back and laid his hand on Eden’s stomach, caressing. He said something, directed at her midsection.Click click.
He leaned down and pressed his ear against her belly, as if listening for a second heartbeat.
I dropped my camera, and the strap pulled taut against my neck.
Oh, my Lord.
Chapter 5
When I registered what I’d seen, I lurched and encountered something hard. And wet.
“Dammit! What the hell?” The man I’d backed into lifted his arm in the air, out of my way, but beer dripped off his elbow. I’d gotten it on my shirt, too, but I ignored it and looked into the recording booth. Adam had just kissed Eden’s belly. I grabbed my camera up and paused. Eden looked out, and our eyes met. I hesitated for a half a heartbeat. And the moment was gone. I laid my camera down at my side, turned, and walked away.
My mind reeled with the valuable information I thought I’d discovered. I had no evidence, and I’d missed the money shot, but what I’d witnessed along with the pics I did take would give Andy a story he could spin for major traffic. The question was: would I tell him?
As I crossed the room, lost in my own internal conflict, Hervé caught me and handed me a plastic cup filled with sparkling water. “So you’re a photographer? I’ve always loved those huge pictures of the great western expanses. Ansel Adams stuff, ya know? And pictures of Manhattan that make it look as majestic as a national park. What kinds of pictures do you take?”
