Fearless by Annie Jocoby Read Free Book Online

phone after my Seth brush-off, not wanting to deal with the reality that he would be blowing up the phone, as he always did when I blew him off. I had turned the phone back on after I went to bed at 4 AM. I had stayed up with my parents, talking late into the night about everything under the sun. My father was still trying to reach me in his way. My mom, too, but sh e tended to go about it in a manner that pushed me further away as opposed to bringing me closer.
    They had already left, as they had a hotel room, because they knew that there was no way that they could stay with me in my studio apartment.
    Now, here it was 7 AM, and my phone was ringing. I was in no mood to talk to anyone, as I was once again hung-over and talking with my parents had emotionally drained me. But I picked up anyhow.
    “Dalilah Gallagher,” said a familiar voice on the other end. “I have been trying to get ahold of you. Why haven’t you been picking up your phone and returning your messages?”
    I was incredulous. Whoever was speaking was a pushy little bastard, and I didn’t like it one bit. “Who is this?” I asked.
    “This is Blake Nottingham. You met me a few days ago. I need you to pose, and I need this in one hour.”
    Blake Nottingham. The creeper from the sidewalk bench. Fuck that, I wasn’t going to pose for him or anybody else in an hour. “Mr. Nottingham, I’m very sorry, but this is short notice. I’ll have to take a rain check.”
    “You will not take a rain check. I have already arranged for the artist to meet you at 12667 Roosevelt Avenue in Queens.”
    I recognized that address, and I suddenly knew that there was no fucking way I would ever go down there. It was in the industrial area of Queens, known as Willets Point, and it was a cesspool. There was little there but junkyards and waste processing plants. And abandoned warehouses. Somehow, I got the feeling that 12667 Roosevelt Avenue would probably fall into that category.
    I laughed. “I’m so sorry, Mr. Nottingham, but posing there is out of the question. I generally don’t leave Manhattan for a job, and I certainly am not going to go to an armpit like Willets Point for anybody.”
    “I’ll pay you $1,000,” he said.
    My eyebrows rais ed. Suddenly, I was interested. I could use that money, because I realized that Seth probably was going to cut me off, and there was just no way that I was going to go to my parents, hat in hand. That would be the nail in my coffin, having to beg for their financial support.
    “I’ll be there at 8,” I said.
    “Thank you,” he said, and hung up.
    I didn’t have time to think about how this man got my personal phone number. I mean, a lot of established artists had my phone number, because I had been making the rounds and I had become somewhat in demand. But how this Nottingham person managed to get my phone number was beyond me.
    I didn’t have time to think about that one, though. I had to rush to get the bus and the right subway, and then more bus transfers to this little hell-hole in Queens.

Chapter Seven
    Luke
    I actually did end up at my “studio” a little bit early, as I didn’t want a repeat performance of the other morning. So, I didn’t get baked the night before and actually got some sleep for once in my life. I knew that getting to the studio would be tricky on the bus, because I was going to have to carry my tools and my canvas on there. I really should have outfitted the studio with what I needed, but I used the place so little that there was never in point in doing that.
    So, I packed up my stuff and took off on the bus to the Willets Point district of Queens. This was a depressing area that resembled a war zone, really, and I felt a little bad that a classy woman, as this Dalilah Gallagher seemed to be, would have to be subjected to such an indignity as coming to an abandoned warehouse in the middle of a post-apocalyptic landscape like Willets Point. But, it couldn’t be helped. It was either here in