“Why do you want a studio?”
“It’s a lot easier for the fine art photography I want to do. I can manipulate the shot and the lighting and all that. I can bring a model in and control the environment. And for all the shoots I do to pay the bills, I can book them back-to-back in my studio to make my life more efficient. Most of the photography I do now is on location, which is great, but it eats up a lot of time hustling from one place to the next. And then there’s traffic ...”
I shouldn’t be so enthralled by her work, but there was something about it that interested me. Or maybe it was just her enthusiasm forthe job. She had a lot of passion for it. I could see it in her face every time she talked about it.
She pulled out her phone, then looked through her photos. “Here are some I took in Taormina. I took most of them before we met.” She slid through the images, a close-up of the sign outside of Bam Bar, a few photos that were taken in the caverns of Isola Bella. And then there was one of me standing on the rock from the day we went to the beach. With my arms by my sides, I stared down at one of my buddies in the water, grinning from ear to ear at something someone said. “I love this one.”
“Can you send it to me?”
“Of course.” She took the phone back and texted it.
“I don’t know shit about photography, but I know you’re good at it.”
“Yeah?” she asked.
“I feel something when I look at it, so yes.”
Her eyes found mine again, and I swore they melted like butter over warm bread. I’d told her she was beautiful, told her she was tough, but she never reacted this way when I did. Her photography was her heart.
“Have you ever done boudoir photos? You know, get nearly naked and take a bunch of sexy pictures.”
She smirked at the suggestion. “Not really my thing. And even if it was, I would never show you their photos without consent.”
“No. Haveyoudone a boudoir session? As in, been the subject.”
Realization came into her eyes, followed by a blush to her cheeks. “No ...”
“Something you’d consider?”
She shook her head slightly, like she couldn’t believe I asked. “I prefer to be behind the lens rather than in front of it.”
“What a shame. Might learn something.”
“About photography?”
“Why not?”
“Well, Maximillian Cattaneo has dominated that space. It pays his bills so he can pursue his art. He’s really,reallygood.”
“Better than you?” I asked incredulously.
“Uh, yeah,” she said with a laugh. “He’s won the Elite Photographer Award four out of the last five years. He’s always doing something different, sometimes capturing a shot in the studio and other times spontaneously in the field. My favorite photograph of his is the one he captured of Princess McKenzie. She was being surrounded by photographers while she signed an autograph, and he just perfectly captured how overwhelmed she was. I have no idea how he got the shot. Someone must have tipped him off where she’d be so he could be in the perfect spot.”
I had no idea the world of photography could be so competitive. “Is he gay?”
“Excuse me?” Her eyebrows rose.
“Are these women getting naked for a straight man or a gay one?”
“Oh . . . yes.”
“Good to know,” I said with a nod.
She smirked when she caught on to my thinking. “Not gonna happen. And even if I did consider it, he is very particular about who he photographs. I wouldn’t make the cut.”
I released a chuckle I couldn’t suppress.
“I’m serious.”
