Chapter 105

Friday-Saturday, Aug. 3-4

I got out of bed and grabbed my tablet. There really wasn’t much information.

The big metro newspapers and television stations all had pretty much the same stuff. Julia Fairchild had been apprehended Friday afternoon by state agents at the airport upon her return from New York on charges of sexual assault and child pornography. A number of her former models, all female, had come forward claiming the agent had coerced them into taking part in sexual acts in exchange for helping advance their careers. The facts that some of them were as young as 14 and that Julia liked to video her conquests led to the child porn charges.

The investigation was ongoing. It seemed federal charges were a possibility if it could be shown Julia had transported any of these young women across state lines to engage in these acts. Her attorney had no comment. The agency’s artistic director, Armand Shoffner, said it would continue conducting business as usual until further notice.

The clock-radio showed it was a few minutes past 11. I sent Arlene a text. She replied that I should be on time for my assignment in the morning and we’d just have to play it by ear from there. I remembered what George Patterson had said about keeping my head down and my nose clean. I wondered how much, if any, involvement he had in this.

It was way too late to contact anyone else about this. If Mom and Dad were home, they were probably about to go to bed. I’d just have to wait until tomorrow to talk to someone about this.

Morgan went to clean up while I’d been surfing the web and was almost dressed by the time I’d finished. I zipped her up and dressed in cargo shorts and a T-shirt to take her home.

I delivered my girlfriend home by 11:45. It seemed her parents were still out, so there would be no awkward questions about why I’d changed clothes.

“I had a wonderful time,” she said as she pulled my head down for a goodnight kiss. “Pick me up about 8:30. See you in the morning.”

I got back to the apartment by midnight, showered and shampooed to remove any traces of Chanel No. 5 and prepared for bed. One last swing around the web revealed nothing new on Julia’s situation.

Since I had to be up in about eight hours, I turned in. My desire to know more about the Julia Fairchild case finally lost out to the toll my physical exertions had taken. I fell into a restful sleep, even if I didn’t have a beautiful woman in my arms.

Once again, my mother called a good 15 minutes before my alarm was set to go off to make sure I was up and running. I was instructed to stop by the house for one more of Grandma’s breakfasts. Morgan would meet me there.

I just pulled on the cargo shorts and T-shirt I’d worn to take Morgan home last night, slipped into deck shoes, grabbed my tablet and was out the door. I was sure my girlfriend had instructions on how to dress me for this assignment.

Grandma had once again made cinnamon rolls, this time also whipping up a batch of pigs in blankets, which I was happily munching on when Morgan arrived. She waited until I’d taken an icing-laden bite before kissing me good morning.

“Umm, cinnamon,” she sighed happily. “You should consider wearing that like lip gloss.”

I almost had a heart attack when Kacie leaned in and gave me a peck on the corner of my mouth. Fortunately, Mom and Grandma didn’t seem to notice.

“You’re right, Morgs,” my sister said, looking like the cat that ate the canary. “Maybe we can use Grandma’s recipe as the basis for a cosmetics empire.”

I was allowed to finish my roll and managed to snag a pig in a blanket as Morgan shooed me to my room to select an outfit. Kacie tagged along to offer her input and they went back and forth between this polo or that Oxford cloth. They finally agreed on the Oxford cloth because I’d be able to undo a button or two to increase interest among the shoppers.

My girlfriend and my sister decided I should wear khakis since I’d be inside in air conditioning. Deck shoes without socks would be appropriately casual.

With the latest chapter in my life decided for me, I was left alone to get dressed. I brushed my teeth and ran a comb through my hair before emerging to undergo inspection by four women. Morgan unbuttoned my cuffs and rolled my sleeves halfway up my forearms. Kacie grabbed a comb and hairspray to work on my cowlick. Mom and Grandma gave their consent. Morgan made sure I had my tablet, wallet, keys and shades, then dragged me out to my car.

Through it all, no one mentioned Julia Fairchild.

We reached the mall by 8:45 and Morgan directed me to a parking space not far from the Victoria’s Secret service entrance on the backside of the mall. The store manager — “call me Diane” — welcomed us in through the storage area. I had to force myself not to stare as we passed racks and shelves of merchandise. That was one hell of a lot of lacy unmentionables!

In the store proper, Diane led us to a small folding table and chair that had been set up in an open space in front of the swimwear display. It looked like a couple of small racks had been relocated to make room.

I noticed they’d finally changed out the placard in front of the display. Instead of the shot of me giving Lela a piggyback ride, it was the nighttime shot of her plastered to my left side giving the camera a sultry look.

“Are you sure you didn’t do anything with that girl?” Morgan asked.

“I swear by all I hold sacred,” I said. “You’ve seen pretty much everything we did together. I was basically a prop in that shot. You can barely even tell it’s me. They could have used Danny Pomeroy and most people wouldn’t have noticed. It was all about making her look good.”

“They certainly did that,” Morgan said. “I’ll have to get me one of those suits and see if we can recreate the scene sometime.”

“Don’t forget the fleece jacket,” I teased.

A couple of the salesclerks wheeled out boxes about three feet high. They didn’t seem particularly heavy, just bulky. Diane used a box cutter to remove the top of one, revealing rows of tightly packed plastic-wrap tubes. The tubes contained my poster. Or, as I was to find out, posters.

“There are three posters in each tube,” the store manager said. “We ordered three posters — the one of you on the beach and the two of you with the blonde girl. We’ve got the placard you signed in the back. We’ll bring it out here before we open.”

I was told that anyone buying a swimsuit would receive a free poster. I would sign them for an additional fee, most of which would go to the agency with a little trickling back to me. Posters could also be purchased separately, again paying extra for an autographed one. Just an autograph would be a little less, but those customers would have the right to take a selfie with me.

I was handed a package of felt-tip pens to sign the posters with and a couple of ballpoints for regular autographs. Morgan said she would have bottled water ready when I wanted and could get me some snacks if I got hungry, but we were planning on a late lunch after we finished.

One of the sales clerks rolled up the gate at the front of the store a few minutes before 10 a.m. and I waited for customers to come in.

And waited.

For more than half an hour.

I could see plenty of shoppers through the window hurrying up and down the mall. A few even came into the store. But nobody seemed interested in finding out why a teenage boy was sitting in front of swimwear in Victoria’s Secret.

Morgan stayed busy on her phone while I just sat there playing the amiable idiot.

I thought about signing posters for the Gang of Eight and the cheerleaders, but Morgan told me I’d have to wait until school started.

“We’ve agreed we’ll buy them from the spirit shop at school,” she said.

I used my phone to look for news on Julia Fairchild, but there was nothing new. I took a quick break to use the restroom and returned to find my first customers waiting on me — my mother, grandmother and five versions of my sister.

“Hey! When did y’all get to town?” I asked as I moved in to hug my aunts and cousins.

They really did all look like Kacie. My cousins, Kinsey and Kirsten, even had their hair pulled back in ponytails with the same kind of scrunchies as she did. Even their braces looked almost the same as my sister’s at their ages.

“Thanks for coming,” I said as I hugged my grandmother. “How’re things going with the move?”

We chatted for a few moments and I got caught up with my aunts. Aunt Patty was facing an unenviable task of getting the girls ready for a new school year in new schools while also getting a new house in order before she began looking for a new job. Grandma would stay over a little longer to assist with the transition.

Aunt Karen was also going to help out. She’d decided to take a sabbatical from her position as an English Lit professor at an all-women’s college back east and was looking forward to spending time with family before joining Grandma on some of her travels.

It looked like Grandpa would be baching it at the farm a little longer, at least during the weeks. He and Grandma would alternate traveling on weekends.

My cousins were rather wide-eyed at the merchandise on display, but Aunt Patty quickly dashed any thoughts of them making purchases here.