The lighting was good, her dress in order, and she, of course, looked beautiful.Every hair lay obedient, every button was positioned straight.Perfect.Boring, though.A little stiff.A little drab.
What did he care how she looked?
‘She looks terrible,’ Cassius called to the photographer.‘This is not your grandmother.This is Miss Delaney.She needs to be more dramatic.Captivating.More…’ Cassius swept his gaze over her lightness, her beauty.Even tucked into her chair like a spinster, she still oozed elegance.‘Moreher.’
The photographer pulled the cloth from his head and straightened.‘I haven’t photographed anyone this famous before,’ he confessed.‘Usually itismostly grandmothers.But I have always wanted to try something more flamboyant.Do you have any props, perhaps… there!’He pointed to a pile of leftover paper flowers and staging from their last performance.His assistant raced over, then hesitated over what to take.‘That pillar.And are there any lengths of fabric?Has anyone sent you flowers?’
‘No flowers until after opening night,’ Cassius scolded.‘It is bad luck.’
The photographer and his assistant dragged the podium across the boards.They disappeared behind the curtains and emerged some minutes later, a swathe of fabric trailing behind them on the floor.They affixed it to the top of the podium so that it fell like water, draping along the length of Odette’s skirts.Then the two of them fussed with the paper flowers and flounced the fabric, and amidst all the arrangements, one of them made Odette laugh.Her shoulders loosened.She rested her hands on the podium, calmer and more confident.A beauty of the stage.Almost.
‘Swap sides.’Cassius turned to the photographer.‘This is better.’
‘Such attention,’ the man observed.‘And devotion.’
Odette’s laugh, high and bright, chased the photographer’s words.‘See, Zadora.’She smoothed the fabric at her waist.‘I told you.Youare the lovesick fool.’
Cassius chewed his bottom lip as she watched him, eyes sparkling, almost daring him to respond.Frustration, the type they always provoked in one another, flickered through him.He toyed with some answer, but the remark that sprang to mind would only upset Karl.Better he escape to his pit than annoy the manager.
‘Wait!’the photographer held out his hand.‘People’s expressions go stiff if they have no one to look at.They remain warmer if there’s a person to focus on.Miss Delaney, why don’t you keep looking at Mr… Mr…’
‘Zadora,’ Cassius grumbled.
‘Zadora!’The photographer disappeared behind the black cloth.‘Definitelydon’t go anywhere.Miss Delaney, hold still, starting… now.’
The assistant slipped the brass lens cover off the front of the camera.True to her craft, Odette remained motionless, her eyes resting on Cassius.
‘How long must she hold still for?’he asked the photographer, all the while holding her blue gaze.
‘In here?Almost a minute.Not long, but long enough.’And he held up a hand with five outstretched fingers.After a few beats, they dropped to four.
‘The soprano, silent,’ Cassius mused, loud enough for her to hear.‘How disciplined can she be?’
If he must play the lovesick fool, he might as well have a little fun.
‘Odette.Precious.’ He rolled the word heavy with accent so that it dripped, sickly sweet, from his lips.
The photographer lowered a finger.Three.The soprano held her pose.
‘My pristine peach…’
Two.
‘My pretty, presumptive, periodically prickly, but rarely pernicious paragon.A performer with perfect panache…’
‘One!’the photographer called, his voice quivering.Was that a slight twitch, just at the corner of her eyes?
‘Have I told you that I find you…’
‘Done!’the photographer shouted as he fixed the cover over the lens.
‘Infuriating?’
‘Cassius Zadora!’Odette threw the fan she had been holding to the ground with so much force it rebounded a foot into the air before falling with aclunk.‘You would make fun of me?You knew I was nervous!’She flew across the short distance between them, swatting at his coat, and damn himself, he smiled, then laughed.Completely unravelled, the soprano had lost her composure.‘You knew I was worried.And yet you—’
‘Played the lovesick fool?’He grabbed her waist and pulled her against him.‘I did.Exactly as requested.’
‘Change the glass!’the photographer hissed.‘Mr Zadora?Miss Delaney?Could you hold that pose?Please?’
