Sleeping Beauty (26 page)

“All communication with my client will take place through me,” he says. “And only me.” He smiles. “Just so we’re all clear.”

She pulls her lips, showing us more of her teeth. “Your client is the victim of a crime, Rev. She’ll be compelled to testify.”

“I’m afraid we’re not clear what crime is being referred to here.”

“Are you familiar with felony sexual battery, California Penal Code two-four-three point four?”

“I am. The part I’m having trouble with is the word ‘non-consensual.’ My client has been involved in a committed relationship with Brendan Charmant for some time. The physical nature of their relationship is not the business of the State of California. To my knowledge, Ms. Beau has not filed a complaint with your office.”

“Not necessary in the case of a victim who is medically incapacitated,” says Lucinda.

“My client hasn’t given your office access to her medical records, nor will that permission be forthcoming. Therefore, I’m at a loss as to how you could determine her competence to make decisions regarding a personal relationship.” Rev rolls backwards in his chair to gain some clearance, then leans back and rests his ankle on knee. “Again, I’m unaware of any complaint my client has filed with your office. I’m afraid you’ve created a victim where there is none.”

“What day did you start dating Dr. Charmant, Claire?” says Lucinda.

Rev holds his hand up in front of my face. “Don’t answer that.” He reaches for his briefcase, pulling out a sheaf of papers. “I’d like to take a detour, if I may, and discuss the search warrant executed on my client’s residence yesterday evening.”

She places her hands face-down on the table, and tilts her head to the side, like this whole interview is stressing her out, and she needs a quick neck stretch. “A search was conducted on your client’s residence in order to locate and secure evidence pertaining to the investigation of Dr. Charmant.” More teeth. “Obviously.”

Rev pulls a stapled document from the stack, slowly and deliberately flipping through it one page at a time. He scratches his head and grimaces. “Nope.”

Lucinda sighs. “What’s the problem, Mr. Carlin?”

“Well, I’ve read and re-read the warrant, and I can’t find a single sentence in there that would explain why, at last count, fifteen of my client’s personal effects are on e-Bay.” He pulls out his phone and taps away on the touch screen.

“What?” I say, my back straightening in surprise.

Lucinda Gaelic glances uneasily at the hapless associate to her left. “That’s impossible. The warrant was executed by the Los Angeles Police Department under the strictest supervision and using the highest professional standards.”

Rev holds his phone in front of my face. “This look familiar to you, Claire?”

I gasp. “That’s–that’s my hairbrush!”

Rev takes another look at his phone. “Oh, look!” he says with glee. “Says right here in the description: ‘The real deal! Bid on this one-of-a-kind childhood memento owned by Hollywood’s newest sensation, Claire Beau!’”

“A hairbrush,” she scoffs. “I could buy a dozen identical hairbrushes and have them on e-Bay in an hour.”

I shake my head, small quivering movements back and forth.
No
.
No you couldn’t
. Davin reaches over and squeezes my hand.

“I don’t know, Lucinda. If I had to guess, I’d say the front of this brush is ceramic. If I wanted to guess some more, I’d say it looks homemade and hand-painted. If I wanted to get cocky and go all-in, I’d say that the words ‘For Claire, Love Mom’ etched into the ceramic might lend some authenticity.”

Lucinda is plainly uneasy now. “If there were personal items outside of the scope of the warrant that were…”

“Stolen,” Rev says helpfully, still poking at the screen.

“…
improperly confiscated
from Ms. Beau’s residence, I can assure you that my office will launch a full investigation and charge any individuals responsible, and that any property involved will be returned to your client.”

“Yes!” he yells like his hockey team just scored. He pushes a button on his phone and the screen goes black. He puts it face-up on the table top and sends it into a spin. While Gaelic and Company watch it whirl, he leans in towards me. “I just bought your brush back for three thousand dollars.” He turns to Lucinda. “It’s important not to bid too soon. I’ve found that hanging back and waiting until a few seconds before the auction expires is the best strategy. I’m assuming that I send the bill to you?”

He stuffs his phone and the warrant back into his briefcase. “If you’re interested, it looks like her toothbrush and dental floss are being sold as a set. Starting bid’s five hundred dollars.” He smirks. “Are we done here?”

I would feel as smug as Rev if it weren’t for Lucinda Gaelic. For someone who’s just discovered that she’s flubbed–
badly
flubbed–the beginning of a criminal investigation, pissing off her main witness to boot, she’s remarkably composed. She eases herself from the chair bit by bit. Once she’s on her feet, the mute colleague on her right hands her a rolled-up magazine. Breathing heavily, she rounds the table, dropping it open on the table in front of Rev.

Rev snatches it up, giving it a cursory glance before tossing it back on the table. “Is this some kind of a joke?”

She picks it up and starts reading:

Rumors have been swirling on the set since filming began on Andy Gordon’s newest movie,
Evensong
. Are Jonathan Varner and his beautiful co-star, Claire Beau, an item? Some sources have claimed that the steamy love scenes between the two continue even after the cameras stop rolling. But in an exclusive, yet-to-be-released interview with
Entertainment Weekly
last week, Claire Beau denied that she is dating her co-star, admitting that she was seeing someone else (although she declined to go into details). Who is this mysterious “someone?” Our sources say that she has been dating Brendan Charmant, a pediatric neurologist at Los Angeles Children’s Hospital, since May. There is rampant speculation about how they met, with some even claiming that Dr. Charmant was Claire’s physician, an unlikely scenario since Ms. Beau is twenty-nine years old. Stay tuned as this mysterious situation unfolds…

I roll my eyes. “Look,” I say, looking up at Lucinda, “I don’t know what you think Brendan’s done, but I can tell you–”

“Claire,” says Rev.

Lucinda Gaelic glowers at Rev before settling a look of semi- sympathy on me. “It’s not uncommon for victims of sexual assault to protect their attacker,” she says, putting one of her sticky hands on my shoulder.

I can’t help it. I twist away.

“Whoa!” yells Rev as he jumps to his feet. He points a finger in her face. “You’re going to find yourself in the middle of a helluva–”

“You’re safe now, Claire,” says Lucinda. “You don’t have to protect him.”

I don’t like the patronizing way she’s looking down on me, like she’s speaking to a child. I stand up. “What are you talking about?” In my peripheral vision, I see Davin hurrying over, like he’s preparing to break up a fist fight. “I’m not protecting–”

Suddenly the lights go out and everyone freezes. One of Lucinda’s associates taps the keys of her laptop, and the front of the room grows bright. Our heads turn simultaneously towards the drop-down screen where a photograph of a bedroom appears. Out of all of us, I’m guessing that only Lucinda Gaelic, her two flunkies, and I know what we’re seeing.

“What the hell is this?” says Rev. I don’t know his whole history, but it’s not unusual for core surfers to have had a few run-ins with the legal system between adolescence and adulthood. Right now, Rev, with his bulging neck veins and threatening posturing, looks like a guy who might have shanked a man to death in a prison somewhere.

“It’s the sleep lab,” I say, my voice quizzical. At the bottom right of the image is a date and time stamp:
2011/05/18 07:17:14
. “That was the date of my sleep study.”

“Lucinda,” says Rev, his voice steely and threatening. “I don’t have to tell you that accessing a person’s medical records, in whatever form they may be in, is a gross invasion of privacy. I am strenuously advising you to end this interview now and consult with the DA before you make a grave mistake you can’t recover from.”

Lucinda is unfazed. “Your client’s privacy is not protected when there is suspicion that a criminal act has occurred. The evidence was discovered by a hospital employee, who in turn alerted the hospital’s compliance office. They immediately turned it over to the police. Which is where we came in.”

She nods to her colleague. What I thought was a photograph turns out to be video footage, the time stamp moving forward:
07:17:14…07:17:15…07:17:16
.

“Claire, what is this?” Rev whispers to me.

“I–I don’t know. I mean, it’s the day I went to the sleep lab for my study in May. It’s the same room. I don’t know why–”

“
How’s this
?”

My head snaps to the screen at the sound of Brendan’s voice. He’s holding open the door to the sleep lab, and then I appear in the frame holding a duffel bag. “
It’s fine
,” the video me says.

“
Are you ready?
”

“
Sure.
Where do you want me?

I feel my face get red as everyone in the conference room watches Brendan and me stare at each other.

“
I almost didn’t recognize you when you came in
,” says video Brendan.

Beside me, I hear Rev exhale in disgust. “My client met Dr. Charmant during a hospital office visit on May fourth, and again on May sixth. Dr. Wendy Pickering took over Claire’s care on May sixth. Her personal relationship with Dr. Charmant began well
after
this date.”

Lucinda works her way back to her original seat while I try to figure out how Rev knows any of this.
Davin
, I decide.
How else?

She ignores Rev and looks at me. “Did you ever wonder why Dr. Charmant stepped down as your physician, Claire?”

“I’m–I–have–I have this…” I stop, thinking about how to explain about the KLS, the amnesia.

Rev jerks towards me, his lips almost touching my ear. “If you give this scheming three-bagger anything more than diet advice,” he purrs in an undertone, “you’re going to find yourself sitting here without an attorney.”

“
Here
.” On the screen, I hand Brendan a zip-loc bag filled with orange prescription bottles. “
You said you wanted to know what I was taking
.”

“
Good
,
this will definitely help.
” He flips some light switches. “
Are you going to be okay with me taking some of that off
?
The electrode paste won’t stick if I don’t wipe a little of it off.
”

We all watch as I get myself situated in the lab, putting my bag on the couch. Brendan leaves the room, returning with a cart.

I sit forward in my chair, watching. This is where my memory of my lab visit ends. I can’t help it, I’m curious.

“
Are you okay
?” says Brendan to me.

I watch myself fall forward in a classic cataplexy faint. Luckily, Brendan is close enough and fast enough to catch me. He carries me to the bed, and starts touching my skin with a pen.

“What’s he doing?” Rev murmurs.

“It’s a marker for the electrodes,” I whisper. I’m actually getting kind of bored watching this, probably because I already did it in real life twice.

“Are you going to wake up?”

“I don’t know. I don’t remember anything after this.” We both turn back to the screen to watch.

“What the…?” says Rev in an undertone.

Brendan is lying next to me on the sleep lab bed. Like,
on the bed
. I start to see what their concern is. To them it looks like he’s running his fingers through my hair, putting his hand under my shirt, feeling me up. I open my mouth to explain, but snap it shut and tug on Rev’s suit sleeve.

“He’s still marking me for the electrodes,” I say, my hand cupped over my mouth so Lucinda and her crew can’t hear. “They put a heart monitor on you too, so they, you know, have to lift up your clothes.”

Rev starts to relax a muscle at a time.

Brendan is still on the bed next to me when he says, “
Claire, can you hear me
?” A few seconds later I mumble something unintelligible, and he bounds off the bed like an Olympian high jumper. “
You’ve been out for about fifteen minutes
,” he tells me. He says a few more things. I try to sit up. A few seconds later I clumsily swing my legs off the bed. Brendan steadies me, gives me a glass of water, and finally persuades me to lie down.

Rev stands up, pulling his briefcase off the table. “Well, thanks for the peep show, Lucinda. I’ve seen more titillating footage on the Food Channel. I’ll be filing the mother of all lawsuits against your office within the week.”

I’m frozen in my seat, my eyes still locked on the screen. I see it now, see what’s coming next. A barely audible moan begins at back of my throat, taking shape in my mouth. “Oh, no. No, no, no…”

Everyone in the room turns to stare at me. “Turn it off,” I plead, smacking my hand on the table. “Please turn it off!” I ball my hand into a fist, banging the table over and over. “Turn it off!”

Rev looks startled. “Claire, what’s the–”

I look away from the screen just as Brendan says, “
Has anyone in your family ever told you that when you’re entering an episode you become
–”

Then my voice: “
I want to do bad things
.”

I jump up, reaching for the laptop on the table, blindly stabbing at the keyboard. “Turn it off! Turn it off!” I scream. Rev pulls me away, dragging me in front of him, pinning my arms to my sides.

I lift my head, watching in abject humiliation as everyone witnesses my attack on my then-doctor, now-boyfriend. Brendan of course pulls away, trying to disentangle himself from my arms.

But then he doesn’t.

My chest hitches in mid-sob. I hold my breath, watching in disbelief as Brendan falls on top of me on the bed as I writhe underneath him.
What is he doing
?