“Yeah, and the night’s still young! Relatively. Maybe you can take some new photos to turn in tomorrow?” I suggest, attempting to be pleasant and helpful, the good cop to Cal’s annoyed, unintentionally callous cop.
Roland slowly looks up at me. “Yes. That’s…that’sit. That’s exactly what I need to do.”
“Great, so your cousin’s phone number?” Cal prompts.
“No, no. I mean, I need to take new photos. Right now. So that I can process them in time to turn them in.” He grins. “And if you want my cousin’s info, you’re going to help me.”
—
“This is goingto end with someone making cutesy jokes about our murders on a true crime podcast,” Cal says.
“Listen. I know it’s not, like,reassuringthat Roland has round-the-clock access to a warehouse full of mannequins…”
“Annie?” Cal says.
“Hm?”
“Let’s stop talking now. I don’t want to waste my final words bickering with you.”
“What if I want to waste mine on bickering withyou, though?” I ask.
He exhales loudly.
“Okay, I think we’re ready,” Roland says, adjusting the short ponytail he pulled his hair back into before he got to work moving mannequins into what he referred to as “the ideal position.” The ideal position forwhatis the question. I disagree with Calthat it’s murder, because why go to all of this trouble? He could have much more easily murdered us back at his studio, where no one would probably even notice the bloodstains for a good long while, masked by the lack of overhead lighting and grimy old hardwood floors.
Unless he wants to kill us and then photograph our dead bodies, of course. But that certainly wouldn’t help with his I-have-nothing-not-incriminating-to-turn-in-tomorrow-for-a-grade conundrum.
“So the assignment is to take a series of photographs that meditate on the concept of aliveness,” he explains. I’m not sure if that is a point in the column for not going to kill us or definitely going to kill us. Could really go either way. “With the goose, I put the dead one in the middle of a bunch of live ones in Druid Hill Park. But I’m going for the opposite here.” He adjusts something on the camera he wears around his neck, then glances back up at us. “How do you feel about nudity?”
“Uhhhh,” Cal starts.
“Because, like, I won’t force you to do anything you’re not okay with, obviously. But the statement I’m trying to make here won’t be nearly as powerful if you’re fully clothed.” He pauses. “I think I can make it work from the waist up only, if that makes you more comfortable.”
I look at Cal, who looks back at me. He’s seen my boobs already. Let’s be real, he’s done more than see them. And I don’t get the impression from Roland that he’s asking this with any perversion in mind. As much as I hate to think what it says about me, I do kind of understand and appreciate what he’s going for here, and itwilllook better if we match the mannequins as much as possible.
“Fine with me,” I answer, and shrug off my coat.
Cal stills me with a hand on my arm. “What? Are you serious?”
“The sooner we’re done with this weird little late-night photoshoot, the sooner we’ll get the contact info for Roland’s cousin. Get stripping, Callahan.” I make quick work of the buttons on my blouse and let the sheer sleeves rest on my arms as I reach back to unhook my bra.
Cal still looks far from convinced that this is a good idea, shooting me an expression that’s somehow simultaneously irate and absolutely electric as he peels off his own coat, then the hunter green sweater beneath.
And now we are standing topless in a room full of mannequins while a stranger continues adjusting his camera.
Hmm. I think I might have had a dream like this once, actually.
Roland takes us in and nods in swift, businesslike approval. “Follow me, please.” He leads us into the gaggle of mannequins and taps the floor with the toe of his shoe where he’d like each of us to stand. Cal and I take our designated positions, standing a yard apart like we’re just two more of the evenly spaced lifeless figures surrounding us. After returning to where he’s going to be shooting from, Roland frowns. He grabs a wooden crate from a pile of random objects at the edge of the space and brings it over to where I am.
“Hop up on this, please, Annie. I need you closer to the same height as everyone else. Thanks.”
“Ooh, fun. I like it up here.” It’s kind of like being on the counter at Virtu. “I’m seeing this experience from a different angle.”
“Still looks like we’re half naked in a creepy warehouse at one a.m. to me,” Cal says.
“Well, that’s just because you don’t have a crate. BecauseIcan see that we’re half naked in a creepy warehouse at one a.m. asart is being made.”
He lets out a small snort of laughter despite himself.
