Page 24 of Concerted Chaos

“And I stand by it. That was a horrible thing for anyone to go through, especially a teenager.”

“Yes, I know. And that’s why I called you. You’re the only one outside of my immediate family who ever expressed any empathy. Everybody else who hearsthe storytells me how lucky I am, like I won some kind of lottery. It was traumatizing for me. It’s the worst thing I ever went through, but everyone acts like I gamed the system.”

“I can understand why they say that. Some folks only focus on dollar signs. But in my line of work, I’ve learned to see people for who they truly are. And I could tell you were hurting.”

“Your line of work? Stalking?”

“I told you, I’m a serious photographer,” he says defensively. “I shoot portraits. Family pictures, engagements, other important moments in a person’s life. I used to have a successful business built up, but I lost it when I moved out here. I’m cobbling together whatever work I can while I rebuild my customer base.”

“Why’d you move here?” I ask. He briefly puts his face in his hands and rubs his temples.

“I followed my girlfriend.”

“Does she know about your Chinese food affair last night?”

“Doubt it. She moved here a few weeks ahead of me. We were starting fresh after my divorce...”

“Wait, what?” My mental picture of him is changing rapidly. “How old are you?”

“Twenty-eight.”

“How does that happen? You and I are the same age and you’ve already been married and divorced? I knew we had different lives but that’s ... that’s...” I am unable to come up with the words to express my surprise. At this point I haven’t even dated anyone longer than a season, and he’s had an entire marriage.

“We do have different lives.” He gestures with his hand, encompassing the pool area, the view, and our chef-prepared meals. Touché. “My girlfriend and I wanted to start over, far away. She was offered a transfer to her company’s Phoenix office, and we both thought it was a great opportunity. I stayed behind to finish up some things and by the time I got here, she had met someone else. She thrived on drama, and I wasn’t as interesting once I wasn’t married anymore.”

“So you’re a cheater?” Makes sense for someone with such a sleazy career path to also have a sleazy romantic past.

“Only on paper. My wife and I were emotionally separated for years.”

I’ve heard that one before.

“Did your wife know that?”

“Of course she did! She dated other guys too. She even moved one of her lovers in for a while. Look, we were incompatible as a couple. We got married straight out of high school because she needed an escape from her cultish family. Marrying me meant they couldn’t marry her off to the much older man they had picked out for her.”

“So in this not-quite-believable scenario, you’re some kind of hero?”

“Yes, actually I am. And it’s true.” I can’t tell if his defensiveness is because I implied that he’s lying, or because he’s telling the truth and is sensitive about it.

“What did you get out of the deal?” I refuse to believe that a conniving photographer runs around rescuing women from forced marriages out of the goodness of his heart.

He shrugs. “Does everything have to be a transaction? Marianne was my closest friend and an awesome roommate. Do you seriously not have someone in your life you’d do anything for? She needed me. As long as we were married, her family left her alone. They sorta hate me.”

“Why bother getting divorced then? Sounds like you had everything working out so well.” At least, as well as can be in a loveless marriage.

“We lived in Kansas City, but my wife was offered her dream job back home in St. Louis. We couldn’t keep up the charade if we moved there, and she really wanted the job, so we decided to quietly and amicably end it. Unfortunately, her former cult also doesn’t approve of divorce and when her parents came to save her soul, they walked in on me and my girlfriend. Suddenly I wasn’t just the daughter-stealer, I was the evil degenerate cheater.”

In my head, I’m casting the movie version of this ridiculous drama. If Tanner sells his life rights, Powell’s going to jump at the chance to write the soundtrack. This is just cheesy enough for his kind of music. The ending, where Tanner and his new lover ride off into the sunset—in the opposite direction as Marianne and her extremely attractive new husband who also has a hobby of saving women from cults—will have a lovely acoustic ballad about starting over. We’ll cut to credits before Tanner’s heart is mercilessly discarded by his manipulative drama-loving girlfriend, and if box office numbers are high enough, that will be the start of the sequel in which he learns to love again.

“Then you moved out here and got dumped. That sucks. Why didn’t you just turn around and drive home?” This information may be important for Tanner Smythe: Hometown Hero part II, New Beginnings.

“There was nothing left for me there. My ex’s family made sure to trash my business—I couldn’t even get a job taking passport photos. Most of my so-called friends weren’t particularly supportive when all that was going on, and I never had a good relationship with my parents and siblings. None of my family members follow me on SwiftaPic, if that tells you anything. My van and my cameras are all I have left of my previous life.”

I consider it for a moment. His life is somewhat paralleling my childhood. After my dad died, my paternal relatives tried to steal me from my mother. She had to flee with me in the middle of the night, we were homeless for a year, and crushingly poor for another couple of years. I remember what it was like to lose everything. And I remember having a membership at the YMCA, so when we lived in our car we had a consistent place to shower. Tanner is asking for the kind of help my mom needed. How can I turn him down, especially when it doesn’t cost me anything?

“Alright, you’ve convinced me.”

“Of what?” He’s suddenly confused, as if he’s already forgotten the reason he’s here and telling me this whole thing to begin with.

“Your sob story has swayed me, Tanner. We have a deal. Welcome to the gym.”

“That wasn’t a sob story,” he objects, but he smiles when he says it, revealing that adorable dimple in his left cheek. It’s too bad about his profession. I think I’d like him if he wasn’t a pap.

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