‘We can’t run your pictures,’ Max is saying. I feel the sucker-punch in a disconnected place.
‘Young vulnerable girls,’ he fans his hands. ‘This one looks like a rape victim for chrissakes.Titan Magazinealways skirts the line for shocking, but these are over the edge.’
‘You were happy to run pictures of me, in some very vulnerable situations,’ I tell him, tight-jawed.
‘That was twenty years ago. The world has changed. I had this girl’s mom on the phone, threatening to sue the magazine.’ He taps the gaunt face of a young girl with dark under-eyes. ‘Said you pressured her to take her bra off.’
‘What?’ I glare at the images. ‘That fucking ungrateful little bitch. She just got booked byVoguebecause of me.’
‘We can’t run them,’ he says. ‘And I can’t pay off any more models who say you bullied and humiliated them.’ He eyes me sternly. ‘Which leaves me with a big problem. A big hole in my Fall pages. And I have just the story to fill it.’
I raise an eyebrow. ‘Oh?’
‘Thanks to your friend Simone, I managed to get hold of some interviews with the Columbian police.’
My stomach lurches.
‘They interviewed you, didn’t they?’ He regards me over his champagne glass. ‘After Adrianna was kidnapped.’
He’s fishing. He must be.
‘Adrianna is kidnapped. Tortured. You’re a guest at her party. And when police accuse you of misleading their investigation, you reply “no comment”.’ He leaves a loaded pause. ‘Doesn’t look good, does it? Particularly when you’re sleeping with her billionaire father.’ He takes a victorious sup of champagne. ‘If I can’t trust you to get me material, I need a back-up plan.’
My hand holding the glass is shaking. I force myself to set it down and shrug casually, grateful for my childhood training.
The vulnerable girl who was sent to America’s most prestigious boarding school left with the strength to overcome anything.
‘I’m the photographer for the Kensington wedding,’ I say. ‘What if I were to leak some pictures?’ I lift the champagne glass and dispose of the contents. His eyes follow the movement.
‘Pretty girls in perfect dresses? Not our vibe.’
‘It’s not the sponsor’s vibe either. They’re paying Adrianna Kensington two million, and they want their pound of flesh.’
He tilts his head. ‘I’m listening.’
‘I’ll be doing something more artistic.’ I look around impatiently for the waiter to refill.
‘With Georgia Kensington managing every photoshoot?’ Max considers. ‘I’ll believe it when I see it,’ he decides, leaning back and sipping champagne. ‘I don’t know what’s going on with you, Petra.Your pictures used to be good. Seems like the world has moved on and you haven’t. Too much white powder, maybe.’
‘You’re one to talk.’
He smiles, revealing ill-kept teeth. Pushes my pictures back toward me across the table.
‘Can’t take these,’ he says. ‘But I might have something else for you, since you’re so close with the Kensingtons.’
I’m still negotiating the spike of shock at his previous remarks. It’s hard to choose the right reaction with the champagne lunch and cocaine come-down.
‘We had a tip-off,’ he says. ‘Apparently, there could be some very sensitive documents hidden in an elevator at the Plaza hotel.’ He pauses for effect.
I raise an eyebrow. ‘You know there are a lot of elevators in that hotel, right?’
‘Eleven,’ he says. ‘Not so many for someone like you. Who has every reason to be there today. For Adrianna Kensington’s dress fittings.’
‘How do you know that?’ I snap.
‘I pay a lot of money to the right people.’
‘How are these documents hidden, exactly?’ I’m picturing the sleek insides of a Plaza elevator, and can’t think how that would work.