I Thee Bed.... Jule McBride
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that was meant to be a smile. “Wipe the smirk off your face.”
He should have realized Judge Diana would say something such as that. “Sorry,” he muttered.
“I’m sure I’ll live, Mr. Delaney,” she returned curtly.
Ches whispered, “This doesn’t bode well.”
Judge Diana heaved a sigh, her lightly glossed lips pursing in displeasure. “And does counsel have something to say?”
“No, Judge,” Ches assured.
Nodding, she stared at the top of her massive desk, her eyes roving over the contents of a three-inch-thick manila file. Very slowly, she tapped a paper with the long, slender finger of a perfectly manicured hand, causing Jimmy to bite back a sigh. Obviously, Judge Diana was going to draw out his sentencing, just to watch him squirm.
Or maybe she’d realize he’d done nothing wrong and go easy on him. He was half tempted to start speaking in his own defense; maybe if he hadn’t trusted Ches’s advice so much, he’d have done so already. But Ches was one of the best trial lawyers in New York City, so well-known that, if he hadn’t been a friend, Jimmy wouldn’t have gotten any further than a call to his assistant; despite being well employed, himself, Jimmy wouldn’t have been able to afford Ches’s rates, either.
Now he thanked his lucky stars for having such a talented buddy. Not only had they moved from Ohio together and finished college at NYU the same term, but Ches had gone on to law school, then made a name for himself as a defense attorney. On the first day of classes at NYU Law, he’d met a woman who was as sexy as she was brainy, and now Ches and Elsa were in their third year of married life; she’d given him two babies while joining a firm herself. The youngest child, Conner, was only three months old, but just like his older brother, Clay, he was showing signs of becoming a football star, at least as near as Jimmy and Ches could tell, even if Elsa often begged to differ.
Pushing aside the thoughts, Jimmy concentrated on Judge Diana again, wondering what was going to happen next. Ches had said it was unlikely, but Jimmy could wind up doing jail time. Jimmy sure hoped not. He glanced around. The benches in the high-ceilinged courtroom were nearly empty of people, and the place felt cavernous and smelled musty. In the silence, he could hear the ominous crackle of papers, and for the first time, he began to worry that things were about to plummet southward. Even if the sentence was harsh, Ches had said it wouldn’t matter, since they’d win on appeal, but Jimmy didn’t exactly relish the thought of wearing a striped uniform under any circumstances.
Regarding his legal battles, he’d long ago decided to turn his will and his life over to the care of Ches, and so, until now, he’d refused to sweat this case. It wasn’t his first. Jimmy’s talent was for taking pictures. From the earliest age, he’d shown a knack for color and composition, and for discovering photogenic quality in just about any subject. He could take the most seemingly homely girl in the world and make her look intriguing beyond compare. And it wasn’t a trick. He’d simply been given a gift for capturing the souls of even the most elusive people. Time after time, he’d snap the shutter in the split second when a person’s deepest emotions surfaced, and what might have been seen as ugly was infused with new depth. His was a talent that had brought critical acclaim when he’d first started working, and later far more than the average wage usually made by photographers.
As Judge Diana held up a copy of the New York Post, Jimmy braced himself for whatever sentence was to come, but she merely said, “You took this?”
He surveyed a black-and-white zoom shot of hotel heiress, Julia Darden, who’d been on the deck of a yacht sailing off the Chelsea Piers in the West Twenties. She and her fiancé, Lorenzo Santini, were wrapped in a sheet, kissing deeply, in a suggestive enough pose that any viewer would assume they were making love.
He nodded. “Yes, I did.”
“And you sold it to the tabloids?”
Obviously. He tried not to balk. He was a photographer, after all. And that meant he sold his pictures. “Yes, ma’am.”
“Although you knew there was an order of protection against you?”
“I was outside the court-ordered range of distance, Judge.”
“A simple yes or no will do.”
He sighed. “Yes. I knew there was an order.”
“And not the first one Julia Darden has filed against you?”
He shook his head. “No.”
“Would you want people taking pictures of you such as this?”
Jimmy should be so lucky to find himself wrapped in a sheet, in the arms of a woman as gorgeous as Julia Darden. “I wouldn’t mind in the least.”
“How many orders of protection have there been?”
Honestly, he wasn’t sure, so he glanced at Ches as he said, “Six or seven over the past few years. Most since she announced her wedding six months ago.”
“Eleven,” corrected the judge.
When she ducked her head once more and continued perusing his file, Jimmy’s annoyance intensified. So maybe there had been eleven orders of protection, but Ches said he really hadn’t done anything illegal, only unconventional, and with Julia Darden’s wedding taking place in a couple of weeks, on April first, Jimmy could hardly afford to be in jail during the event. One picture of Julia and Lorenzo’s kiss at the altar would buy him the West Village Co-op he’d been eyeing for the past year. Besides, only Celebrity Weddings magazine was to have access to the event, which meant getting inside would provide just the kind of challenge that Jimmy lived for.
Just thinking of the wedding, he almost smiled. Leave it to Julia Darden to name April Fools’ Day for her nuptials. She definitely had a sense of humor. It was rumored that she hadn’t even really wanted a ring, but only the pop-can tab with which Lorenzo had proposed, and which she now wore around her neck. She was as beautiful as she was funny, with straight brown hair, brown eyes and a wide smile, and yet, she was more than just beautiful. She had a quality Jimmy had been able to capture repeatedly on film, a projected air of having been completely well loved during all her twenty-seven years. Any hurt she might have experienced seemed to have rolled off her back, which was why she’d become one of Jimmy’s—and all of America’s—favorite tabloid subjects.
Her father, spry, silver-haired widower, Sparky Darden, was a character in his own right. Sixty-seven and diagnosed with cancer that had gone into remission, he was in semiretirement, enjoying an estate in Long Island where Julia’s wedding was to take place. He’d spent his life building the Darden hotel empire, but he’d also spent much time doting on his daughter, giving her the life of a fairy princess, a fact that always shone through the features of her face and that, despite her aversion to cameras and publicity, had made her America’s darling. Her sport star husband-to-be was no slouch, either.
But it was photographs of Julia that commanded the highest pay at the tabloids. Because she always tried to avoid publicity, Jimmy didn’t understand how Emma Goldstein at Celebrity Weddings magazine had gotten exclusive rights to shoot the wedding. It was shocking that Julia would let anyone with a camera, much less a mainstream celebrity magazine, near the wedding, and now, despite the order of protection, Jimmy still wanted to get in the door. He was well-known among paparazzi for the inventive tactics and disguises he used to get close to subjects, but so far, Julia Darden’s wedding was providing new challenges, almost daily.
It had all started last October, almost six months ago, when the wedding was first announced. Ever since, Jimmy had managed to scoop Celebrity Weddings by publishing shots of preparations in the tabloids, something that had brought him into contact, however anonymously, with the Benning family. As it had turned out, Julia Darden’s father, because of a past association with a man named Joe Benning, had hired Joe’s daughter, Edie, as Julia’s wedding planner, and Edie, prompted by Celebrity Weddings, had agreed to appear on a reality television show called Rate the Dates a couple months ago….
Jimmy