Crossing the room, Finley picks up a book sitting on a small table and brings it over to me. I nearly laugh out loud when she hands it to me.Thisis the look she wants? The man on the cover is staring at the camera like he’s got laser vision and he’s trying to cut the photographer in half. His shirt is open and—wait for it—he’s obviously on the chilled side. His hair is blowing as though he’s standing in gale force winds and he’s holding a sword at his side like he’s going to single-handedly save the world from god knows what.
“This is exactly what we’re going for,” Finley assures me.
Now that my assignment has been clarified, I turn to the camera with devious intent and start having more fun than I can ever remember having.
CHAPTER SEVEN
FINLEY
Inserting my spoon into the teacup, I rotate it the requisite three times before performing the double tap. Then I pick up the mug and take a sip. I made orange clove in memory of Thomas Culpepper’s delicious-smelling aftershave.
Staring intently at my computer screen, I cannot for the life of me believe this pirate is the same sexy man who came into my shop. There isn’t one decent picture. Not one. Which never happens. Even if the model is reluctant, I can always get one good shot—usually when they drop their guard and don’t realize I’m still snapping away. Not Thomas Culpepper though. He is by far the worst model I’ve ever worked with, and that includes the baby who projectile vomited onto my new camera lens.
Picking up my phone, I call Allie. Before she can say hello, I ask, “Can you come over?” Her apartment is only a block from mine.
“How about if I bring a pizza? I was just getting ready to order one.”
“Extra cheese,” I tell her.
I spend the next thirty minutes trying to find one respectable pose and one facial expression—not necessarily in the same photo. I’ll Frankenstein them together if I have to. There’s nothing. Not even the doctor shots, and Thomasclaimsto be a doctor. How hard could it be for him to look like one?
The knock on my door causes the teacup to nearly jump out of my hands. Clearly, more time has passed than I noticed. After mopping up the spilled liquid with my sweatshirt, I get up and walk across the room to let my friend in. I take the large pizza box from her while asking, “Want a beer?”
“Sure.” She slides her coat off and drapes it over a stool at the counter. “You sounded upset. You okay?”
I reach into the refrigerator and grab two long-neck bottles before placing them on the counter. Popping them open, I hand one to Allie. “I had a session today with the most amazingly gorgeous man I have ever laid eyes on. Sizzling.” I add the last for emphasis.
“Sounds like fun,” she says enthusiastically.
I lead her into the living room and point to the spot I recently vacated on the sofa. “Take a look.”
My friend sits down and puts her beer on a coaster. Then she focuses on the computer screen before looking up at me. She looks back and forth several times before asking, “This is the most beautiful man you’ve ever seen?”
“I know, right?!” I place the pizza box onto the coffee table before plopping down next to her. Then I wrap my arms around one of my furry, white, decorative pillows—I needallthe comfort right now. “The thing is, in person, he’s a total hottie. He just can’t model to save his life.”
Allie picks up the laptop and brings it closer to her face. “Is he cross-eyed?”
“In nearly every frame,” I assure her. “But not in real life. In real life his eyes are a delicious hazel green. They also point in the same direction at the same time.”
“Huh.” She’s obviously as perplexed as I am.
Reaching over, I click to the next page to show her the “doctor” photographs. She bursts out laughing. “These are horrible, Finley.”
“Yup.” Beating my head into the pillow, I tell her, “I don’t know what to do. The woman who ordered them is going to ask for a refund for sure.”
Allie’s face contorts into what I’m assuming is supposed to be a look of sympathy, but comes off more like pity. “You might have to give it her.”
“I might,” I moan. “The problem is, I hate feeling like I’ve failed. I’ve never taken such bad photos. Ever.”
“It’s obvious your model was the problem.” She reaches over and opens the pizza lid. Pulling out an extra cheesy slice, she brings it to her mouth and takes a bite.
“Hewasthe problem, but I’ve always been able to put people at ease so I can get the shot I’m after.” I tell her about how Thomas didn’t seem to understand why he was there and how that added a lot of stress to the day.
“How could he not know what his girlfriend had in mind. I mean, he came with a lab coat and everything.”
“He claims he really isa doctor,” I tell her. “If that’s true, you’d think he would know how to smolder like one.”
“Yeah, well, real doctors don’t exactly smolder, do they?”
