Jo,
Thank you so much for the pictures. They turned out even better than I expected. If you go to my website, you can see what my webmaster did with them. I still look like a folk singer from the sixties, but that’s on me, not you. I liked the pics you took with me and Micah best, but I couldn’t use those for the site. Feel free to keep those for yourself. I’ve emailed one of them to this digital picture frame my mom keeps on her mantel. Micah likes to send over pictures of himself making faces, so she was happy to have something nice of us for a change.
I feel bad that you wouldn’t take my money for your time. At least let me know what I owe you for the twenty pictures we ended up using.
Eden
I had no idea how much a picture was worth in non-word currency. And even if she could probably pay my rent without missing the cash, I couldn’t bring myself to name a price. And not because of any my-pictures-are-priceless nonsense. I literally didn’t have the first clue what they might be worth.
I wrote back:
Eden,
Since you’re letting me keep so many pictures, I can’t in good conscience ask you to pay for the few you kept. Consider them my gift in return for the chance to do some honest work for a change. :)
Thanks for the offer though and for giving me such a great opportunity.
Jo
Zion came out of the bathroom with a towel wrapped around his waist. He had no modesty at all, but he at least covered his dangerous bits for my benefit. His chest and arms were rock hard. I used to think about trying to trick him into hooking up with me, but he’d never once batted an eye at any woman.
At least until Saturday night. But then he was more starstruck than anything else.
“Did you say something?” He plopped down beside me. His hair dripped on me, smelling of oranges and ginger.
“You’re using my shampoo, again.”
“You’re using my sofa.”
“Touché.”
“Did you get your article done?”
“Yup. And I got a nice email from Eden.”
“Oh, yeah?” He jumped up to grab some boxers in his room and then shamelessly sat on the sofa half-naked to watch TV.
I threw my comforter over him. “Have mercy on a poor girl.”
We companionably fast-forwarded through his favorite DVRed entertainment shows, him hoping to find out which celebrities might be coming to New York, me hoping to figure out how to do my job. About fifteen minutes intoAccess Hollywood,my phone buzzed, and I discovered a response from Eden.
Could I at least take you out to lunch on Wednesday? If you pick a place near where you work, I could come meet you. You’d be doing me another favor actually. Until Adam gets back home, I don’t know what to do with myself. If I don’t get some real company, I might start remodeling the kitchen or something insane.
There was no possible way Eden Sinclair had nothing to do with her time. I knew she’d only couched it that way to make me more inclined to accept her invitation without feeling weird about it. But I did feel weird about it.
I hit Reply.
That sounds fun. Do you know where the NY Daily Feed is located? There’s a Bon Appetit sandwich place right around the corner from where I work. Do you know the one?
That restaurant would be on the cheap side, but still pretty good. As soon as I hit Send, I hit my forehead. Eden wouldn’t want to meet in a cheap sandwich shop. She probably had her own chef, preparing micro cuisine for her. Whatever micro cuisine might be.
I lifted my head from my phone screen. “I’m going to have lunch with Eden later this week.”
Zion pushed me. “No way!”
I pushed him back. “Way!”
The corner of his mouth turned up. “You’re gonna be best buddies. See if you can find out when she’s getting married.”
