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 had gone undercover as a videographer for Rate the Dates, padding his clothes, wearing a beard and calling himself Vinny Marcel. While shooting footage of Edie Benning and her date-mate, and hoping to use the ruse to get closer to Julia, he’d wound up with more of a scoop than he’d expected. As it turned out, the woman on the reality show wasn’t Edie Benning after all, but rather, her twin sister, Marley, and now—assuming he wasn’t going to jail—Jimmy had to come up with another game plan for getting close to Edie.
He wouldn’t mind in the least. When he’d first seen the identical twin sisters together, he’d been able to tell them apart immediately. The women were identical, yes. And yet, there was something so different about their essence. Both were about five foot five. Both had worn their feathered blond hair blown straight, and both had blue eyes the color of robins’ eggs on a foggy morning.
But it was Edie, not Marley, to whom he’d responded. The pull on Jimmy’s body had been strangely magnetic. Unforgettable, visceral, primal. He didn’t want to get to know Edie, to take her on a date, or impress her with his credentials or expertise, or even watch her eyes light up with pleasure. No…he’d awakened from dreams about her and caught himself fantasizing about loving her—quickly undressing her, stripping down her stockings, pulling down her skirt, unbuttoning the delicate blouses she favored. He could see himself pushing silk from her shoulders, exposing a white bra, the lace of which was worrying taut pink nipples that the fabric barely covered…
He suddenly blinked. Dammit, Judge Diana was staring at him, and she gave the impression she’d been doing so for some time. “Yes?” he managed.
“Did you hear a word I said, Mr. Delaney?”
With her dark eyes scrutinizing him, Jimmy decided it was probably better not to lie. “No. I’m sorry.”
“Is your own sentencing boring you?”
He shook his head.
She sighed. “For your inattention alone, I should send you to Riker’s Island.”
Riker’s Island? Ches had indicated that if Jimmy received a jail term, it would be in some cushy place for white-collar criminals. He felt Ches’s hand close over his forearm, as if Ches feared Jimmy might suddenly lunge past the judge and run for freedom.
Judge Diana was eyeing him again. Using an index finger, she pushed the black-framed glasses toward the bridge of her very straight, patrician nose. “I see you studied fine art before you went into your current occupation.”
What did that have to do with anything? “I was an art photographer, yes.”
“And now you’re pretty merciless, aren’t you, Mr. Delaney? You dress in disguises, which makes it difficult to catch you in the act while you peep in windows and the like?”
“Not exactly how I’d put it.” He wanted to add, “I’ve forgone many of the usual life pleasures, just to bring the American public the kind of pictures it most loves.” Instead, he said, “I’m going to honor the order of protection, Judge.” The truth was, he’d already done so, and she knew it, but the Darden’s security staff and legal team were turning up the heat as the wedding day neared, hoping to keep Jimmy away from Julia. They’d even insinuated he’d chased a Darden limousine, trying to get a shot of Julia, and that the car had swerved dangerously, but that was a blatant lie.
Yes he’d honored the order of protection, so far, but the Darden’s security team was starting to pose just the kind of challenge Jimmy relished. After all, he’d done the right thing, only to be punished. Besides, he did want pictures of the wedding. Celebrity Weddings magazine had an exclusive, but if anybody else could get in to shoot pictures, it would be Jimmy. Suddenly, a plan began to form in his mind. Surely, there was a way to get inside the Darden estate….
Only the pounding of the gavel brought his attention back to the judge. “All and all, Mr. Delaney,” she said, “I think you’ll find my sentence of community service fair. You will, of course, adhere to all existent orders of protection against you. That goes without saying. In addition, beginning tomorrow at the Little Red Schoolhouse on Bleeker and Sixth Avenue, from nine o’clock until noon, and for the next six weeks, you’ll meet with the shutterbugs.”
Community service? What was she talking about? Pictures he’d taken of Kiefer Sutherland picking up trash along the L.A. freeway shot through his mind. Surely, he wasn’t going to be wearing orange and cleaning public parks. Then the word registered. “Shutterbugs?”
Judge Diana nodded. “My juvie offenders. Believe me, I’ve got a bunch. This morning, an officer told me his evidence room is overflowing with camera equipment that can’t be returned which was why he couldn’t find some drug money for three months after he’d confiscated it. This should kill three birds with a stone.”
“Three birds?” muttered Ches.
She nodded. “The officer, the kids and Mr. Delaney.”
“Juvie offenders?” Jimmy managed. He’d been a lone child, and the only kids he knew lately were Ches and Elsa’s sons, and they weren’t even old enough to call him “Uncle Jimmy” yet. “I’m sorry, Judge, but I don’t know how to teach—”
An elbow to the gut nearly took away his breath. Judge Diana, who’d seemed to catch the action, smiled. “I see your attorney, uh…” She paused, her smile broadening. “Gets the picture.”
A second later, Jimmy was blinded by a series of white flashes, and in the next heartbeat, he realized his own buddies had circled to the front of the courtroom to snap his slack-jawed expression. Already, he could see the picture in the Post or the Daily News. The text would read something like, From Julia to Juvies. Didn’t these guys care that selling such a photo would publicize his face, making him that much easier to spot, endangering his ability to work? “With friends like these,” he muttered, “who needs enemies?”
And
