I let out a guttural scream, hoping I can release these emotions before I look up this photographer and kill him with my bare hands. I don’t even recognize the sound that comes out of my throat. I should’ve been there.
Fuck this! Call me an overly possessive He-Man. I don’t care what I have to do to get these magazines off of the shelves. I don’t care what it costs. I’ll walk away from this project with Milton and go work for Dev. She can book another damn shoot if it’s that important to her. But the very thought of strangers jacking off to pictures of Grace makes me physically sick. I pull out my phone. “Max.”
“Yeah?”
My voice is wrecked. “We’ve got a problem.”
Grace
The front door clicks shut behind me, and I collapse against it with a thud. The last three hours have been entirely too exhausting to make up for the measly twenty dollars and loose change sitting in my pocket.
Twenty dollars!
That’s what three hours of walking someone else’s over-pampered terrier is worth. It should’ve only taken one, but the clever escape artist managed to get away, leash and all. I was so relieved when I finally found the mutt, sniffing who knows what under a patch of overgrown weeds, that I couldn’t have cared less about the pay. I simply didn’t want to get sued for losing their prized pup.
I barely made enough for half a tank of gas if I’m lucky. Not enough to matter. Not enough to fix even one of the bills stacked on the brass console table that mocks me every time I walk in here.
I toe off my shoes and pad down the hall, pausing outside my mom’s room. She’s asleep.
Her breathing is shallow, uneven, her face turned slightly toward the window like she’s chasing light even in her dreams. I stand there for a second longer than necessary, memorizing the curve of her cheek, the faint rise and fall of her chest. Focus on the positive, Grace. She’s home, and she’s having a good day today.
I head to the kitchen to get a much-needed glass of water when I catch that the answering machine light is blinking.Ugh.Why am I even going to put myself through this? It’s not like someone is calling to let me know I’ve won the lottery. A lottery I don’t have a spare dollar to play.
My stomach tightens as I press play. Big surprise, they’re calling to inform me about an overdue balance. In case I wasn’t aware. My eyes roll back in my head as I wait for the next message. Great, and her overpriced prescription is ready for pickup. This is the final notice. If I don’t come to get it by tomorrow, they’ll re-shelve it, and we will have to reach out to the doctor for a new prescription. Something tells me they’ll want more than this twenty dollars and change in my pocket. So much for a half tank of gas.
By the third message, my hands are shaking so badly I have to brace myself against the counter. Tears well in my eyes. How much longer can I keep this going? If we go to jail for not paying our bills, will she at least get the medical treatment she needs?
Bzzz. Bzzz.
Reaching for my phone, I swipe away the tears, only to find Victor’s name fills the screen. Talk about pouring salt in a wound.
I hesitate for a beat and then answer, “Yes?”
Victor launches straight into it, voice sharp and irritated as he rants, speaking so fast, talking about breach of contract and legal obligations, I can barely put two and two together. The words are being hurled at me so fast, I’m a sentence behind trying tounderstand what the hell he’s going on about when I hear him blurt that I haven’t fulfilled my part of the agreement.
“What the hell are you talking about?” My voice cracks. I remember I’m home and attempt to drop my volume so I don’t wake my mother. Heading for the front door, I slowly ease it open and step outside. “I took those awful pictures. You lied to me.”
“About what?”
“Never once did you say you’d take pictures of me without clothes on.” And here I was nervous he was going to ask me to pose in a string bikini. “You took those without my consent.”
“You obviously didn’t hire an attorney to review your paperwork, Grace.” My name comes out with a bitter snap to it. As if I’m so beneath him, the very act of having to say it out loud causes him disgust. “It’s not my fault that you didn’t read the fine print.”
“Was it in the fine print that I wasn’t getting paid? On top of how you practically assaulted me to obtain photos you knew good and well I’d never intentionally let you snap, you promised me money in exchange for the pictures. I haven’t seen one red cent. My body is probably plastered all over God’s green earth, and you’re callingmeabout not fulfilling a contract?”
He barely pauses. Instead, he starts ranting about my “boyfriend.” This asshole must be high. What the hell did I get myself into with this jackass? Sure things have been desperate lately, but I know better than to get caught up with a swindler. And I should’ve seen this a mile away.
Victor continues to fume about how some heavy hitter thinks he can just bulldoze their operation. How it doesn’t matter how much money he has, or how many copies he’s bought—they can still print more.
My heart starts to pound. My brain can’t keep up with this illogical conversation. Is he even calling the right woman? My heart sinks, considering how many other down on their luck, desperate girls have accepted this snake’s offers, simply praying for a miracle to solve their problems. Only to find themselves in the lion’s den.
“What are you talking about? I don’t have—” I swallow. Myrelationship status is none of this toad’s business. “Why the hell are you calling me if you can just print more?” I nearly tell him to fuck off and leave me alone, hang up and block his number when he says something that makes me pause.
“I thought I’d make you a deal,” he says smoothly. “You fly out, sign an agreement for a new print run. I’ll give you the cash in hand. Along with the negatives. Then we’ll be even.”
“There is noeven,” I sneer. “You’re blackmailing me.”
“Call it whatever helps you sleep at night.”
