I almost told Bailey we were done, and then another idea struck. One that didn’t make much sense. Not if I wanted the photo to look real and not like a Halloween parade. But still, might as well try. Plus Bailey and the dogs were having a grand old time. I started packing my equipment into the camera bag. “We’re going to try something else, Bailey. If you’ll round up the pups, we’re going to do this again in Pioneer Square.”
WE WEREnearing our destination when I got a responding text from Noah.
Cute picture. Glad you all are having fun. Not so much here. See you tonight. Love you.
I wrote back a simpleI love you tooand refocused on the road.
Noah was spending the day with his mom. I hadn’t seen her since Noah and I got together. From how it sounded, she was getting more and more depressed by the day. Noah felt introducing her to his boyfriend would only make it worse. And he was probably right. He said he told her about us, as well as passed along the message from my mom, but I couldn’t shake the small worry he just didn’t want us to meet. That maybe the religious guilt and conviction wasn’t truly as far in the past as he claimed. Though it sure seemed so in every other way. Falling into life with Noah had been the easiest thing I’d ever done. Every day that passed, I grew less and less wary of Noah’s assertion that we were meant to be. I was as certain about it as he was. Which made it all that more frightening.
I’d honestly never been happier. If anything, my worries over Noah and his mom were probably nothing more than my need to stress about something and look for things that could go wrong. Still, Noah had met my family and all their craziness. It seemed like time to meet his. I didn’t want to be his dirty little secret.
Talk about prone to dramatics. I blame my mom. I inherited that lovely trait from her. Never mind that I’d met nearly all his friends. That we were official on Facebook, which made it real, don’t you know. And were constantly together unless he was at work or I was on a photo shoot. Or if he was with his mother.
I knew I hadn’t told him my dirty little secret yet.
Not that it was dirty. Sex was natural. Even if I got paid for it. Sort of.
Noah handled the sexy photo shoots revelation just fine. No reason to think he wouldn’t feel the same about the massages.
I had no idea why I hadn’t told him yet.
Since he hadn’t introduced me to his mother yet, I saw no reason to bring up the massage thing.
I needed to quit going on about it. It was just a few happy endings, plus some. I should be focused on the photo shoot with my niece under the glass pergola in Pioneer Square. It was iconic. Historic. It would be around long after everyone had forgotten that I was a whore.
The pergola was over a hundred years old, and looking at it made a person feel like they were stepping back in time. The structure of thick, ornate iron made up the slightly curving walkway. The entire ceiling was glass, giving the pergola a charming mix of strength and fragility. And as the thing had endured and been repaired multiple times due to car wrecks, I would wager none of the glass was original.
Still, it was beautiful. One of my favorite spots in the city, surrounded on all sides by large brick buildings that also competed in their quest to be the most ornate and grand. It didn’t take much imagination to picture suit-clad men and women in petticoats strolling over cobblestone paths around the pergola, taking shade under the large trees. Now it was mostly tourists and the homeless.
I didn’t think of that aspect when the idea of the pergola came to mind. There were people everywhere. My seven-year-old niece and three dogs, all clad in outlandish clothing. We weren’t going to blend in.
Maybe not my best idea.
Proving to be her mother’s child, Bailey was immune to the audience. Though she stayed in her fairy princess character without a single break, the more eyes on her, the more fun she seemed to have.
My fears about the photo shoot turning into little more than a puppy Halloween parade were justified. As Bailey, Harper, Ron, and Andy romped around the large open space, the larger the crowd became. Before long, several bystanders had joined in, following Bailey around. Tourists and homeless alike. Watching Bailey and the dogs’ effect on the people nearly caused me to lower the camera and just watch the beauty of it all. As they circled around the massive totem pole that was a hundred or so feet from the pergola, a couple of them let out loud and very politically incorrect Indian war cries.
To my surprise, Harper didn’t act nervous in all the ruckus. She stayed by Bailey’s feet and seemed secure in her dragon outfit as long as she was by Bailey’s side. Ron and Andy both stayed true to form as well, Ron looking like the most serious canine fairy a person would ever expect to see, and Andy and his floppy bat giving the more unstable of human participants a run for their money.
Oddly it all worked. Granted I’d have to edit the shit out of each frame to keep it from looking like nothing more than it actually was, but there was something there. I couldn’t quite put my finger on it, but I trusted my gut enough to know that I was watching magic happen. I probably wouldn’t see it until I was in the middle of editing, but I could feel it. The antique beauty of the surroundings, the playful innocence of Bailey and her three friends, the manic energy of the crowd. There was definitely something there. The something that was missing in the small forest.
I knew the magic shot when I clicked the shutter release.
There was an older woman sprawled over the bricked ground, her head resting on one of the iron legs of a bench. Her layers of dirty clothing and rags mixed with her long, stringy white hair and sickly face cast her as surely in the role of Hansel and Gretel’s witch more than if I picked out her costume myself. She was one of the few to not join in on Bailey’s frolicking. I’d noticed her several times watching the goings-on around her. I couldn’t tell if she was annoyed by the disruption or just mildly interested.
As she drew nearer, Bailey paused about a foot away from the woman and bent toward her. Her mouth moved, but I couldn’t hear her words over the hum of the crowd. After a few seconds, when the enchantment seemed to be fading, the woman replied. Without hesitating, Bailey turned and scooped up her little dragon. As she leaned back toward the woman, offering Harper to her outstretched arms, I pushed the shutter and captured the magic frame.
I glanced down at the screen to check, and my gut was proven true. The pergola sat in the background of the frame, old brick buildings around it. Bailey’s spill of blonde hair glistened in the space between her and the woman. The light in the woman’s eyes contrasted with the dirty folds of fabric that swarmed about her as she reached for the small, toothy dragon. A small, serious fairy sat at Bailey’s feet and a cavorting dog twisted in midair, trying to catch a large bat over its head. And from all around, the hordes watched, waiting for a miracle to happen.
The frame was nearly perfect on its own. But with a couple of hours of edits, it would be otherworldly.
A tap on my shoulder drew my attention away from the camera screen. I almost expected to see the witch glaring at me, angry for capturing her soul on digital film. Instead, a pretty, redheaded twentysomething smiled at me, her smile nervous and friendly.
“Excuse me. Are you Randall Morgan?”
Typically I’d be hesitant to answer, expecting some commentary on my high-profile family, but I was still caught up in the moment. “Yeah, I am.”
She beamed. “Oh, I thought so. I’m so excited to see you in action. Is this going to be a new print from you?” She gestured toward the scene in front of us, and I glanced over, a spark of panic coursing through me as I realized I’d taken my attention off Bailey for too long.
