Law returned to the head of the group, and I turned away as he began leading everyone through a series of simple stretches.
The group began to disperse quickly once we were done. I helped Law pack away the few pieces of equipment he’d brought with him to the park.
Trent had shouldered his backpack, and was ready to head off, when Law glanced my way. “Can you give me a minute?”
“Of course. I’ll put the stuff in the car.”
“Thanks.” He pressed his lips together in a grim smile as he headed in the kid’s direction.
Making quick work of loading the bags into the car, I did my best not to eavesdrop on the conversation between the two men. That became difficult as Trent’s voice rose.
“No, you’re not getting it,” he said, shaking his head. “This might be my only chance. I need to be biggernow.” A low murmur from Law followed and Trent rolled his eyes in response. “I’m not going to injure myself.”
“If you continue overtraining an injury is inevitable,” Law countered, his own voice rising enough for me to hear him as I came closer. “It could set you back weeks, or possibly months. I know it’s hard to be patient, but you have to allow your body time to adapt.”
“I don’t have time.”
“Your health has to come first.”
“That’s easy for you to say,” Trent sneered. “You’ve never stood half-naked in a room with a bunch of overweight, middle-aged executives telling you you’re not bulky enough for their brand. How you look too much like a girl to be taken seriously by ‘real men’.” The slash of his air quotes were vicious enough the air around him should have bled with the force of his frustration.
I stepped closer, frowning at his words. It wasn’t my place to interfere, but after what I’d heard, I couldn’t stay silent. “You want to be a model?” I asked, my words cutting into the tension.
“What of it?” Trent snapped as he turned his head towards me, his gaze wary, as if he expected us to gang up on him.
I kept my body relaxed as I looked him over and gave a quick nod. “I can see it. You’ve got good bone structure, flawless skin. You’re tall and your proportions are spot on. Can you work a camera?”
“So I’m told,” he assured me with a wide, cocky grin.
Tilting my head to one side, I smirked back. “Who told you, your mummy? Or someone who knows what they’re talking about?”
Law released a snort of amusement. “Gabi, actually,” he said. “When Trent told me he wanted to put his portfolio together, I steered him in her direction.”
“Ah, well in that case...” I trailed off there. I’d seen Gabi’s work. She knew how to get the best from a model. “The thing you have to realise, Trent, is there’s more to the world of male modelling than body builders, just as there’s more to the world of female modelling than bony waifs. What you need is to find where you fit on the spectrum.”
Trent’s face twisted into an unsurprising mix of confusion and condescension. “What the hell do you know about it?”
Law stepped in again. “Have you ever heard of a model by the name of Clay?”
The kid shrugged a shoulder, as if he’d been asked if he knew the sky was blue. “Duh! Of course, I have.”
Not saying another word, Law’s head gestured in my direction and a smug grin worked its way onto his face.
Trent looked at me, back at Law, then at me again. His whole body flinched. “Fuck a doodle,” he cried, eyes widening. “You’re Clay Clayton.”
“Call me, Connor.” Holding out my hand, I smiled at him. “Good to meet you, Trent.”
His mouth hung open as he shook my hand. “You, too.”
Trent became more open to chatting with me once we’d been properly introduced. We found our way to a nearby park bench as he asked question after question about the places I’d been and how I’d gotten into modelling. When I told him Gabi was responsible for my first contract he damned near launched off the bench in excitement.
“I’ve got someone interested in signing me,” he told me after we’d been talking for a while, “but she keeps telling me I need to bulk up if I’m going to get any real work. Lawrence has been helping me, but it’s so fucking slow.” He dragged the last word out until it sounded like an eternity. “I’ll be grey before I ever get close to his size.”
“You’re not supposed to look like him. You’re supposed to look like—”
“The best version of me,” Trent finished for me, obviously familiar with the refrain. “You sound like Lawrence.”
“I hope so,” I said with a grin. “He was my first trainer.”
