Once the makeup was complete, one of the stylists handed me a beautiful teal dress to wear. The photographer introduced himself, and minutes later, I was in front of the camera.
I felt so stiff and out of my element. After months of being out of the spotlight, accompanied by a social media scandal of sorts, I couldn’t help but look at everyone in the room and wonder if they were replaying that video in their heads. Were they laughing behind my back?
“Stand up straight, girl,” my father suddenly yelled from across the room. “Shoulders back. Standing like that makes your stomach stick out. No man wants a woman with a gut,” he said, thoroughly embarrassing me.
“You would know what a man wants, wouldn’t you?” my mother tacked on. “All the hoes you run through.”
“Don’t touch your forehead,” the photographer ordered when I started to run my hand across it.
“Shit. Sorry.” I darted my gaze toward Demetria.
She held out her hands as if she didn’t know what to do.
I gestured toward the door, silently begging her to escort my parents out. That almost started World War III with them demanding that they deserved to stay because their little girl was the star of the photoshoot.
“I’m sorry. Give me one minute,” I said to the photographer, who was quickly running out of patience.
I stormed over to my parents and pulled them aside by their arms.
“You two are interrupting this shoot,” I whisper-yelled. “Can you please tone it down?” I shot both of them daggers with my eyes.
“We’re trying to help you, Lena,” my mother said. “Lord knows that assistant of yours ain’t no damn good.”
My mother had a particular dislike for Demetria. Why I could never figure out. They’d never had an altercation that I knew of.
“How do you know that girl ain’t the one that put that video of you online?” my mother whispered while glaring at Demetria across the room.
“Ma, she wasn’t even there that night.” Demetria was in New York while I was in LA when that video occurred and knew nothing about it until the rest of the world found out.
“I need you two to settle down, okay?” I pushed out a frustrated breath. “Or maybe, we can catch up another time? How about we go out to dinner later on?”
“Only if I can make the reservation. You know I have a very discerning palette. I just can’t eat anywhere,” my father said.
“That’s fine.” I started to head off. “Call me with the details.”
“I hope you didn’t change your number again,” my mother commented condescendingly.
“It’s still the same. For now,” I mumbled the final part. “Hey,” I grabbed Demetria by the arm, “call a car for them. Tell it to take them anywhere they want to go. Just as long as it’s not here.”
Grinning, she nodded.
I rushed back to the photographer. “Could we play a little music?”
He sighed but asked, “Anything in particular?”
“How about ‘Broken Kisses’? Does anyone have it on their playlist?”
Almost everyone’s hand went up.
I laughed and danced as I posed while the photographer took the shots he needed. I sang along to the songs, giving everyone a small concert for free.
At the end of the shoot, all of the assistants and the photographer applauded. Though I hadn’t been thrilled about the idea of coming to New York and jumping back into work again, I felt lighter after the shoot. Aside from the early interruptions of my parents, once they were gone, everything ran smoothly.
Over time, I stopped wondering if everyone in the room was thinking about that video or wondering if I would have a meltdown or something. It felt good getting my makeup done up by someone else and listening to my music while I performed for the camera.
The one person I wanted to see after it all was back at our hotel. Though we weren’t sharing a room, I was determined to end that separation. I felt too good and too turned on to go another night of only imagining Gabe in between my thighs. I needed the real thing.
“Are there any stops you wanted to make before we head back to the hotel?” Demetria asked as we packed up to leave the shoot.
