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As I take another bite from the peach—only because I’m famished—my gaze rests on the lidded wicker basket next to my desk, which is the other place I store objects that might work for a collage.
Though I’d planned to give my brain a few days to decompress before starting to create again, I see now that I can’t wait. I’m going to use tomorrow afternoon, I decide, to scavenge for more components to use in the next collage. I need a diversion, something to keep me from dwelling on what might be coming next, and even more than that, I want to lose myself in that strange, intoxicating place I go to when I work on a piece of art.
I WAKE EARLY THE NEXT DAY AFTER ANOTHER RESTLESS NIGHT WITHthe table against the front door as an extra safeguard. At exactly 9:01, I call Rebecca Rosenbaum’s office, giving a short explanation to the assistant who answers the phone. She explains that Ms. Rosenbaum isn’t available, but she’ll pass along the message to her.
Less than two hours later, I’m working on my newest graphic design job when the lawyer phones me back.
“How can I be of help?” she asks, friendly and self-assured.
I quickly run through a short spiel I’ve rehearsed and explain I’m hoping for a consultation so she can review my situation and offer me legal advice.
A fairly long pause follows, and I wonder if she’s going to say something likeLady, I wouldn’t touch this mess with a ten-foot pole.
Instead, she offers a few details about her firm, asks some smart-sounding questions for clarification about my issue—which I answer as succinctly as possible—and then announces she’d be happy to meet.
“But unfortunately,” she adds, “I’m going to be on the West Coast for a bit and won’t be able to do a consultation with you until next Friday. I have two o’clock free if that works for you.”
I could try the other two lawyers on the list but since Rosenbaum was Mikoto’s first choice, I want to stick with her. Plus, there’s something reassuring about her voice that makes me think she’s the right match for me.
“I’m totally free then,” I tell her.
“In the meantime, have you heard from opposing counsel?”
“No, nothing yet.”
“Good. I think we should be okay in the meantime, but if you do hear from anyone, call my assistant at this number.” She provides the address for her office and politely signs off.
I’m glad I took action, but wish I felt better than I do. The consultation, she’d said, will be free, but after that, it’s seven hundred dollars an hour, which will add up nauseatingly quickly, and I have no idea if this woman can really help.
Still in my pajamas, I finish up the design work, and then, after a quick lunch, I slip into jeans, a turtleneck sweater, and a jacket. I won’t end up using everything I buy or find today, or perhaps not any of it, but this will get the process started. In some ways this is always the most enjoyable stage of a collage for me because it’s all about discovering and imagining and lettingmy mind off the leash and there’s no pressure to create, or to fix, or to finish.
At some point, though, I’m going to have to go back to my studio, where most of my supplies are as well the worktable where I compose my collages.
I can’t tell if I’m being overly paranoid. I know someone broke into my apartment, but how would Jane Whaley know about my studio, which is only a rental? It’s still possible that it’s all a misunderstanding.
On the spur of the moment, I rummage through my desk drawer until I locate the business card Alejandro offered me once, saying that he’d like me to have his number in case there was any kind of emergency with the building when he was traveling back to Mexico. To be polite, I’d offered him my contact info in return. I hardly want to drag him into the nightmare the way I’ve done with Mikoto, but maybe if I speak to him, I can clarify a few details and put my mind at ease.
“Skyler, hi,” he says instead of hello, which means he must have programmed my number into his phone. “What a surprise.... Is everything okay?”
“Yeah, and sorry to bother you—but I had a couple of questions.”
“Of course.”
“You know that guy you saw outside my studio? Did he definitely use my name when he spoke to you?
He doesn’t hesitate. “Yes. He said he was looking for Skyler Moore.”
“And he definitely said he worked at the gallery? Is there a chance you could have heard him wrong?”
“I’m sure he said it. He told me he needed to drop something off for you, though it must have been small because he didn’t have any packages with him.”
So there clearly hasn’t been a misunderstanding on Alejandro’s part. The guy outside my door was up to no good, and more than likely, he’s the same guy who searched my apartment. What if Alejandro hadn’t scared him off and I’d come back from the bathroom to find him in the studio?
“Was that the only time you saw him?”
“Yes, though I rarely go in and out during the day. Is there a problem?”
“I’m not sure. I’m just concerned because the gallery said it wasn’t anyone who worked there. If you notice him around again, would you mind texting me and letting me know?”
