forge your signature?
The heat of Piers's stare made Lucio turn toward his friend. Immediately, he knew Piers was thinking the same thing he was'
hell yes, such a person existed
.
Several persons, really. Several
women
. Lucio closed his eyes as he started to go down the list in his mindMarina, the photographer's assistant in Belize; Hima, the freelance translator in Nepal; Julya, the documentary producer in Siberia; and, of course, Ilsa, the photo editor in Frankfurt. And that was just for starters. Like he'd done with Sylvie, he'd carelessly tossed them all aside for his only true love: his work. And each one had been quite unhappy about it. Ilsa, dramatically so.
So where might we find this person?
Lucio did not answer the lawyer, so Piers spoke in his defense. Truly, this is a real possibility. My friend does not lie. There are many women who no longer think well of him.
Give us their names and we'll begin an investigation.
Piers leaned close and whispered into Lucio's ear. Remember what Ilsa Knauss said to you at the airport?
Lucio nodded, sighing. How could I forget? he whispered back. She threatened to cut off two critical parts of my anatomy! And then, there was the rat
Piers leaned into his ear again. You really should give them her name, he suggested.
But we haven't spoken in two years, Lucio said. Don't you think she'd be over it by now?
Piers looked at Lucio as if he were crazy.
Yes, yes, all right, Lucio said. He supposed the gift-wrapped package that had awaited him upon his arrival in the northern Chinese city of Yinchuan nearly five months earlier was proof that she hadn't forgotten. The thing was so the word?
Desiccated.
And smelly. Lucio swallowed, recalling how the accompanying gift card had been signed: All My Love, Ilsa.
Well? One of the magazine's lawyers looked impatient. I'm waiting.
Lucio nodded, but he took a moment to think this through. Was he capable of siccing investigators on Ilsa, or any of the women from his past? What if that just heaped further hurt onto innocent women who had nothing to do with this? But could Lucio live with the idea that he'd never get to the truth that would clear his name?
Before he could even confer with Bill Voyles, the magazine's lawyers shoved another document across the table. It was an agreement that
Geographica
magazine would forgo criminal charges if Lucio repaid the fifty thousand within ninety days.
But I cannot, Lucio said, looking to Bill and then the magazine attorneys. To Sydney he said, I won't get the Erskine prize money until Decemberif I get it at all.
Would you consider six months? Bill Voyles asked the lawyers.
We're afraid this is the limit of the company's compassion, was the reply.
The rage built in Lucio's chest until he could not suppress it.
?Hostia! ?Besa mi culo!
he shouted, slamming his fist on the conference table.
The room got quiet. All eyes turned to Piers, who shrugged. It means, ‘The Host! Kiss my posterior!'
Bill Voyles shook his head in disapproval.
I did not take your damn money, Lucio said, pointing at the attorneys. This is how you treat one of your best photographers? ?
Absurdo!
?
No me jodas!
His lawyer elbowed Lucio in the side. When everyone's eyes turned to Piers for a clarification, he shook his head, opting not to translate don't fuck with me.
If you decline the offer, Mr. Montevez, we will have no choice but to press charges.
Lucio sat still for a moment, his mouth ajar with disbelief. Eventually, he looked into the faces of the lawyers and nodded. He would pay the idiots their moneymoney was not the real issue. The issue was that someone had ruined his reputation, and that was unacceptable. In silence, Lucio promised himself he would find out who had done this to him, no matter how long it took.
Please relay to my former employer that their compassion overwhelms me, Lucio said, accepting a pen from his attorney.
He signed the agreement, then motioned to his handwriting. And just for your
The heat of Piers's stare made Lucio turn toward his friend. Immediately, he knew Piers was thinking the same thing he was'
hell yes, such a person existed
.
Several persons, really. Several
women
. Lucio closed his eyes as he started to go down the list in his mindMarina, the photographer's assistant in Belize; Hima, the freelance translator in Nepal; Julya, the documentary producer in Siberia; and, of course, Ilsa, the photo editor in Frankfurt. And that was just for starters. Like he'd done with Sylvie, he'd carelessly tossed them all aside for his only true love: his work. And each one had been quite unhappy about it. Ilsa, dramatically so.
So where might we find this person?
Lucio did not answer the lawyer, so Piers spoke in his defense. Truly, this is a real possibility. My friend does not lie. There are many women who no longer think well of him.
Give us their names and we'll begin an investigation.
Piers leaned close and whispered into Lucio's ear. Remember what Ilsa Knauss said to you at the airport?
Lucio nodded, sighing. How could I forget? he whispered back. She threatened to cut off two critical parts of my anatomy! And then, there was the rat
Piers leaned into his ear again. You really should give them her name, he suggested.
But we haven't spoken in two years, Lucio said. Don't you think she'd be over it by now?
Piers looked at Lucio as if he were crazy.
Yes, yes, all right, Lucio said. He supposed the gift-wrapped package that had awaited him upon his arrival in the northern Chinese city of Yinchuan nearly five months earlier was proof that she hadn't forgotten. The thing was so the word?
Desiccated.
And smelly. Lucio swallowed, recalling how the accompanying gift card had been signed: All My Love, Ilsa.
Well? One of the magazine's lawyers looked impatient. I'm waiting.
Lucio nodded, but he took a moment to think this through. Was he capable of siccing investigators on Ilsa, or any of the women from his past? What if that just heaped further hurt onto innocent women who had nothing to do with this? But could Lucio live with the idea that he'd never get to the truth that would clear his name?
Before he could even confer with Bill Voyles, the magazine's lawyers shoved another document across the table. It was an agreement that
Geographica
magazine would forgo criminal charges if Lucio repaid the fifty thousand within ninety days.
But I cannot, Lucio said, looking to Bill and then the magazine attorneys. To Sydney he said, I won't get the Erskine prize money until Decemberif I get it at all.
Would you consider six months? Bill Voyles asked the lawyers.
We're afraid this is the limit of the company's compassion, was the reply.
The rage built in Lucio's chest until he could not suppress it.
?Hostia! ?Besa mi culo!
he shouted, slamming his fist on the conference table.
The room got quiet. All eyes turned to Piers, who shrugged. It means, ‘The Host! Kiss my posterior!'
Bill Voyles shook his head in disapproval.
I did not take your damn money, Lucio said, pointing at the attorneys. This is how you treat one of your best photographers? ?
Absurdo!
?
No me jodas!
His lawyer elbowed Lucio in the side. When everyone's eyes turned to Piers for a clarification, he shook his head, opting not to translate don't fuck with me.
If you decline the offer, Mr. Montevez, we will have no choice but to press charges.
Lucio sat still for a moment, his mouth ajar with disbelief. Eventually, he looked into the faces of the lawyers and nodded. He would pay the idiots their moneymoney was not the real issue. The issue was that someone had ruined his reputation, and that was unacceptable. In silence, Lucio promised himself he would find out who had done this to him, no matter how long it took.
Please relay to my former employer that their compassion overwhelms me, Lucio said, accepting a pen from his attorney.
He signed the agreement, then motioned to his handwriting. And just for your
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