“Weight?”
“One-eighty.”
“All in the shoulders,” Hillary put in.“He’s narrow from the waist down.”
“What does he do for a living?”
“I’m a miner,” Cutter declared.
That seemed to please the men immensely.Again they grinned at each other.“Are you just visiting here?”Shorb asked.
“Maybe.Maybe not.”
“Depending on whether you can find a job,” Verrana guessed.“You won’t find much here by way of mining.And I can guarantee that nothing you find will come close to matching the kind of money you can make if you work with us.”
“What kind of money is that?”
“Fifty thousand a year.”
Cutter was thinking that fifty thousand was more than four times what he’d been getting and had to be too good to be true, when Hillary burst out with an indignant, “Are you kidding?If you want Cutter Reid’s face, you’ll have to pay a lot more for it.And then there’s the rest of his body to consider.He’s worth a lot more than fifty thousand a year”
“I’m not adverse to negotiation,” Verrana replied, but to Cutter.
Cutter said nothing.It occurred to him that Hillary had been taken as the more sophisticated of the two and therefore the more shrewd.Indeed she was.But he was a quick study.A minute before, he’d have taken the fifty thousand and run without any idea that there was more in the pot.Now he knew better.
“We’re getting ahead of ourselves,” Verrana went on.“Before we can talk money, we have to know how you photograph.Have you got a portfolio—no, of course you haven’t.Sorry.We’re used to working with professionals.”
Cutter heard the put-down and knew it was deliberate.The message was that as a novice in the profession, he shouldn’t expect the fee of an experienced model.What Verrana didn’t know was that he didn’t give a damn about modeling.The money was the only reason he’d do it.If he was going to demean himself by being photographed in designer clothes, he was damned well going to be paid as much as possible for it.If that turned out to be fifty thousand, fine.All the better if it turned out to be more.
Shorb was jotting something on the back of his business card.“Can you be at this address at ten o’clock tomorrow morning?”He handed the card to Cutter.
“What for?”Cutter asked, handing it on to Hillary as if she were his business manager.He liked that idea.John would have a fit if he knew.
“Photos.”
“Who’ll be doing them?”Hillary asked.
“Brian Webster.”
The name meant nothing to Cutter, but he could feel the excitement radiating from Hillary’s hand.“BrianWebster usually works on location.Are you sure he’s in the country?”
“He’s here.”
“And he’ll have time for us on the spur of the moment?”
“We’ve paid him a hefty retainer to do this ad campaign,” Verrana said.“He’d better.”
Shorb was looking at Cutter.“Will you be there?”
After a long minute, Cutter nodded slowly.
Shorb beamed at Verrana.“See the defiance?It’s what we need.”
Verrana wanted to know how they could reach Cutter if there was any change of plan.Hillary promptly produced a business card of her own, which he pocketed.“You won’t regret this,” Verrana told Cutter.
Cutter didn’t say a thing as he watched the two leave the bar.The minute they were out the door, he sent Hillary a hard look, then drained his beer in a single chug.
“Sure beats playing chauffeur,” she said.
