“I am,” I said.
“Lovely to meet you. I’m Risa Collins. I’m running the show today. And this,” she tapped the shoulder of a petite blonde woman, “is Daniela, our fabulous designer.”
“It’s wonderful to meet you both,” I said, shaking Risa’s hand and then Daniela’s. “Thank you for this opportunity.”
“It’s going to be good fun,” Risa said. “Shall we get you in some clothes? Or…” She looked me up and down. “Possibly out of them. I’m not sure what we’re shooting first – we have a lot of options. It’s going to be fun.” She waved someone over then who offered me a variety of beverages before I was passed off to someone else who took me to my dressing room.
A few minutes later I was standing listening to three more people staring at me in the mirror and discussing the hair on my head, the hair on my face and, much to my embarrassment, hair in other places too - when I heard a commotion on the other side of the curtained walls.
“Lior!” several people shouted.
There was laughter, more talking, and then I heard her voice, the low, sexy timbre I’d grown accustomed to in the past couple of weeks. If I wasn’t so angry with her, I’d get out my chair and go say hello. But while I could forgive the photo with Marley showing up online, since it wasn’t her fault in the first place, I couldn’t get over how she’d seemed to respond to what had transpired three days ago when Nadia had appeared on my front porch.
Granted, it hadn’t looked good when I hadn’t texted her back. I wasn’t able to go in to get a new phone until the following afternoon due to Brontë getting herself stuck in the shallow drainage ditch in the backyard – her back legs seeming to have gone out on her. I’d called a cab immediately and taken her to the vet who nodded sadly and gave B pets and me a pat on the shoulder.
“It happens,” he’d said. “Near the end. Just keep an eye on her. Stay close near stairs or any surface that could send her tumbling.”
After I’d gotten her home, I’d hurried out to replace the phone but the store was closed. Worried what Lior must be thinking, I’d jogged to her house only to find her not home. The following morning I found out where she had been when I saw what had been plastered all over social media.
“Jeremy Lane, the one that got away,” one starry-eyed fan had said.
I’d turned off the new phone and sent it sliding across the kitchen table where it had hit the wall and fallen to the floor. I’d left it there for the next several hours, annoyed that rather than text or call me about what had transpired with Nadia, she’d resorted to childish tactics of trying to make me jealous. Or maybe she’d just decided she had more important, more famous men to hang out with.
The entire episode had just proved to me that I was right about her life. It was full of drama and it would never stop. And it was definitely not for me. Unfortunately, we still had this shoot to do, and so I’d taken a break from my fuming at home to come and fume while having my picture taken professionally with her for none other than Vogue Magazine. I couldn’t wait to see what chaos this stirred up when the issue came out.
“Okay,” the makeup woman said, giving my forehead a last pat of powder. “You’re ready for clothes.”
Ten minutes later I was dressed in the nicest clothes I’d ever worn, and was being ushered out to the set we’d be shooting on, the makeup woman, hair stylist, and the man who’d dressed me, all flitting around adjusting my shirt, smoothing my hair, and looking at my face with narrowed eyes.
“How’s it going?”
Her warm voice had an edge and I turned in surprise to see Lior already there, lying on what looked like a large black brick, her dark hair like a river pouring over its side, the sight of her absolutely mesmerizing.
Someone was adjusting the white satin dress she was wearing so that it laid just so, and she was lying so still, her skin and hair so perfect beneath the lights, that she looked like a statue. A very beautiful statue.
“Well, I’m afraid to move in case I split these very expensive pants. And I’m positive my hair has never had this much product in it… ever.”
For the briefest of moments it looked like she was going to smile, but in the same breath her face went back to being stony-like, her honey-brown eyes looking toward the ceiling.
“Ok folks,” a woman with a camera hanging from her neck said. “Let’s get started. Graham, I’m Ava. I’m your photographer today. If I shout at you at any point, it’s out of love.” She winked. “Lior, you look perfect. Graham, I need you kneeling over her. Marcus.” She waved another man over. “Show him what I mean, will you? We are maiden and brute, folks. Let’s go.”
After Marcus climbed onto the brick and knelt over Lior menacingly, it was my turn.
“Well, this isn’t awkward,” I whispered, trying to lighten the mood. It was going to be a very long day – made even longer if we didn’t get along. But if she’d heard me, she didn’t let on, her eyes cast away from me still, her body unmoving.
A few shots were taken and then we were given a new set of directions, which we took wordlessly.
While Lior kept her gaze anywhere but on me, mine couldn’t seem to stop straying to her. Fortunately, we were kept busy with different poses, people adjusting our clothes, tending to our hair, and powdering our noses – or, in Lior’s case, adding shine to her lower lip, which I found I couldn’t stop staring at.
“Eyes up, Graham,” Ava called out, and I felt my face warm as my eyes rose to meet Lior’s. But hers were aimed at my eyebrows.
We did three more scenarios and then were whisked back to our dressing rooms to change. When we returned to the set, the black brick had been exchanged for a black throne and I was told to sit in my all-white suit. Lior, dressed in a plum dress with a leather corset over the top, leaned over me, one hand in my hair, pulling it to expose my neck, her other hand sliding inside the front of my shirt.
I could feel her breath on my skin and despite the anger I’d felt for her for the past three days, and the large audience, I found my own breath coming faster, my mind starting to short circuit as I wondered what it would feel like to have her tongue trace slowly up my neck.
“Okay,” Ava said. “Now…”
As we got ourselves into the next pose, Lior’s bare legs wrapped around me, my hand gripping the one thigh exposed to the camera, her eyes finally met mine.
