I stop spinning the pen between my fingers.
Shot list. Scheduled windows.
I didn't leave a salaried agency job to wait for corporate approvals on my angles.
"I usually work more independently," I say, fighting to keep my voice level. "It's faster that way. I give you options, different perspectives, and flexibility."
"We appreciate your adaptability, Mr. Bennett, but this proposal requires coordination." Her tone doesn't shift a single fraction of a degree. "The architect needs to be present during the site walkthrough to ensure visual alignment with the design package. We can't leave creative decisions to chance."
I lean back, the chair groaning under my weight. "An architect needs to be there while I shoot?"
"For the initial walkthrough, yes. After that you'll have your shot list and can work within approved parameters."
Parameters.
I went freelance specifically to avoid parameters. To avoid meetings where someone who's never held a camera tells me what angle tells the story.
“The project's high-profile," Sloane continues. "We can't leave creative decisions to chance. The images have to support the story we're telling, not compete with it."
My work is background decoration instead of the thing that sells the project.
I drag my hand through my hair. "When's the walkthrough?"
"Tomorrow morning. Eight AM." She doesn't wait for me to respond. "I'm sending a calendar invite now."
"There's one more thing."
Sloane's voice shifts. Not much. Just enough that I stop looking at my screen.
"Our site monitoring flagged some perimeter activity. Someone photographed the property after an access denial was logged."
My stomach drops. They saw me.
"I can explain—"
"There's no need, Mr. Bennett," she cuts in, her tone dropping in temperature. "We appreciate initiative, but going forward, all access goes through approved windows with the lead architect present. No workarounds. Or we will terminate the contract."
The threat hangs in the air
Workarounds?
It's not a workaround if it's legal. If I got permission from the property owner and stayed on his side of the fence line. That's problem-solving. That's doing the job when the door's closed but the window's still open.
But I don't say any of that.
"Who's the architect?"
"Morgan. Sam Morgan." Keys click again. "Sam will meet you at the south gate tomorrow."
Mental catalog of local firms. Names I've worked with. Names from gallery openings or project boards around town.
Morgan. Morgan.
Nothing.
Someone I haven't crossed paths with yet. Probably fine. Maybe even a suit who understands that good photography requires flexibility.
I glance at my camera on the desk. The commission check would cover three months of slow season.
