“They would if they looked like him,” I declare excitedly. Jabbing my pointer finger at the computer, I add, “But instead of looking sexy, this guy looks mentally diminished.”
“He really does.”
“It’s not only about money,” I tell Allie. “It’s about my name, my reputation. I can’t have this woman going around towntelling people I suck at my job. Elk Lake isn’t big enough to absorb that kind of ding to my reputation.”
Allie grabs the throw off the back of the couch. “Is everything in here covered in fur?” she asks.How has she not noticed this before?
“Fake fur. I don’t believe in killing animals for their skin.” Returning to the subject at hand, I tell her, “There’s no way I can show these pictures to my client.”
“What else can you do?”
“I could ask Thomas to come back for a reshoot.”
“Do you think he’d do it?” she asks while kicking off her shoes and putting her feet up on the coffee table next to the pizza box.Her socks look super soft.
“No,” I tell her. “I could barely even get him to stay for these.”
“Then you’re going to have to send them,” she says. “Tell your client her boyfriend is simply not a model.”
My shoulders slump low and I rest my head on the pillow. Even the fur isn’t helping me feel better. “I suppose, but I hate accepting defeat. I pride myself in my ability to put my clients at ease, and this”—I sit up and make a wild gesture toward the computer screen before continuing—“makes me feel like a world-class failure.”
“We can’t win every race we run,” she says.
What is she talking about? “I don’t run. At least not if I’m not being chased by a gun-wielding lunatic.”
Allie gives me that eye again. The one that says she thinks I’m an odd duck. “Email them and get it over with,” she tells me.
I reach out and take my laptop out of her hands. Then I pull up my email and start to type.
Dear Ms. Brucker,
Here are the photographs you hired me to take of Thomas Culpepper. I’m sure you will be as surprised by them as I was.
In my defense, Mr. Culpepper clearly did not understand the assignment, and he was unwilling to work with me on the shots you requested.
I don’t believe Mr. Culpepper and I are a good fit. Please accept my deepest apologies and I wish you luck getting your photos elsewhere.
All the best,
Allie Rogers
I don’t offer to refund her money, yet, because I really don’t feel that I’m to blame. If she demands her money back, then so be it. I reluctantly hit send. Once my message enters the ether, I feel a definite weight lift off my shoulders. Luckily, Margaret and Bob have a session booked for tomorrow and I know without a doubt that every frame will be near perfection. If they weren’t in their sixties, they could be romance cover models.
Yet, I can’t help but feel disappointed I couldn’t get Thomas on board. Even without any modeling instinct, the man is stunningly handsome. Imagine what he could do if he got with the program and unleashed his inner beast?
CHAPTER EIGHT
THOMAS
I’ve only been at Elk Lake General Hospital for a week. While it’s emotionally more manageable than my last hospital, I’m struggling to feel useful. Tonsillitis, the flu, and gall stones are no fun, but they’re all highly treatable.
Having said that, my co-workers are nice, and the small talk is largely the same. The only difference is here they talk about eating burgers at the diner and bowling instead of consuming oysters at Daniel and hitting the latest clubs.
I have a meeting with Constance Brucker this afternoon, and I’m not looking forward to it. She’s been out of town all week, so I have yet to get her feedback on my photoshoot with Finley. I’m not sure how I’m going to be able to look her in the eye after that disturbing break of trust. Imagine expecting your new hire to take his shirt off and get greased up before taking pirate photos. It defies reason.
After eating a bowl of chili in the hospital cafeteria—which is actually very good—I make my way to the business offices on the other side of the building. I check in with Constance’ssecretary and sit in the small reception room to wait. After only a few minutes, my brittle-looking boss comes out of her office to welcome me.
“Thomas, how are you?”Is it me or is she the one having a tough time making eye contact?
