2
Lucky
"Iam so not looking forwardto today," Lucky said to Jordan as she ran her fingers through her long hair, trying to work out someknots.
"The photo shoot? You'll be fine. I was thinking about going shopping while you'rethere."
"Ugh, really? I want you with me. Did you see that Kat Krave girl? I'm going to look like a troll nexttoher."
"Please, like you could ever look bad. Besides, she's all plastic. Don't think about itsomuch."
After they left the recording studio, she decided some retail therapy would help her mood. She found a cute silk white peasant top with navy embroidery and a pair of navy and white striped jeans she couldn't say no to. The look was very 60s, and she loved it. She added a pair of chunky sandals to finishthelook.
Lucky enjoyed her newfound freedom. She didn't resent how she grew up. She understood why her parents protected her so much and appreciated it because otherwise she wouldn't have pushed herself into music. But she was twenty-one and didn't have any of the experiences other people her age had, and thatbotheredher.
While her parents preferred her to stay home, they indulged her musical interests. Ever since she was a child, she enjoyed music and quickly began making up her own songs. Her parents sent her to lessons first for the piano, later the guitar, and lastly bass because she felt like she wanted a newchallenge.
By the time she was accepted into Berklee, she had won several songwriting awards and had been featured in a couple of local newspaper articles. She couldn't remember when she didn't want to be a musician. She knew she was fortunate to have her dream come true, but she worked really hardforit.
"You're right, Jordan. I am getting too into my head. Screw them if they think I'm fat or big. I know what I look like. I'll put up with this photo shoot and whatever else they want. In the end, I know it's going to be about my music." She sighed softly. "Doesn't change the fact that I'm nervous as hellthough."
"Okay, okay, relax. I'll tagalong."
The photo shoot was in an old warehouse in Santa Monica. The drab grey exterior contrasted with the stark white interior. The faint smell of bleach filled the air of the spacious open area. Large rectangular windows let the sun stream in rays onto the shiny tilefloor.
Ian Taylor, a renowned rock 'n' roll photographer, converted the first floor into a studio with lighting and sets. The saltwater smell of the nearby ocean drifted in through the windows, masking the bleach and making the room feel less clinical. The large space echoed with their footsteps as they entered thebuilding.
"Lucky! Back here!" Richard Black called from a corner at the back of the largestudio.
As they approached, Lucky noticed a couple of guys talking to each other. They were in their early twenties like her, and each wore a plain black t-shirt with their jeans. She wondered if that was planned orcoincidence.
"Did you put on more weight? I really was hoping you'd lose some,"Richardsaid.
Lucky shot him a dirty look then scanned the room looking for Kat, figuring she'd get all her insecurities out of the way as quickly aspossible.
"I don't see Kat," she whispered to Jordan. "Think maybe they changed theirminds?"
"Even you aren't thatlucky."
A loud bang, then the sound of a sliding metal door echoed through the room, making everyone turn and look. Behind a tall, slim older man, Kat came stumbling out of the door, looking disheveled and giggling. Wearing a pair of dark grey slacks, a white pinstriped buttoned shirt, and a devilish grin, Ian made his way over to Richard, Lucky, andJordan.
"Ahh, you must be Lucky," he said in a crisp British accent that immediately charmed her. "I've been looking forward to this shoot." His tousled salt and pepper hair fell onto his forehead as he put his hand out togreether.
As she placed her hand in his, he lifted her fingers to his lips and softly kissed them. She felt heat burn her cheeks and understood why Kat acted as foolishly as she did. There was something sensual about Ian many women couldn'tresist.
"You're in good hands with Ian. He's photographed some of the best-known artists out there. I'm sure you're familiar with his pictures,"Richardsaid.
"Yes, I will get the best you there is. The world will see not only how lovely you are, but the true artist within. Don't worry about what this man says," he pointed to Richard. "It's my eye, my art,nothis."
Lucky thought he was full of bullshit, but she was willing to give him a chance. Kat walked over, still a little flushed, and held her hand outtoher.
"I've been dying to meet you, I'm Kat Krave. I play keys and sing backup. I've heard some of your tape and I think we'll sound greattogether."
"Nice to meet you," said Lucky, surprised with how genuine Katseemed.
"Lucky, let me introduce you to the rest of your band," Richard said. "This is Dylan Young. He's on bass." A man with shoulder-length light brown hair and a thin but muscular build nodded hello. "Paul Ryder is ondrums."
The last of the band, Paul Ryder, stepped forward and smiled. His black hair was buzzed short except for the top, which hung longer and down into his eyes. He looked younger than allofthem.
