by Riley Rivers
But then again, Cameron thought, as he pulled up to a beautiful house in a cul-de-sac that very clearly had a built-on section that was tall and rectangular and looked made of windows… “Home studio” apparently meant a studio that was literally in Ezra’s home.
Fuck, what was Cameron’s life.
The text Ezra had sent with his address had also included instructions to park in the driveway on the left side, so that’s what Cameron did. The driveway led to a two-car garage, but the driveway itself was a long one that also semi-circled and could probably fit like six cars in it comfortably. Cameron guessed that was helpful for big shoots, maybe, if Ezra was doing something that needed a crew.
He got out of his car and shoved his hands into his pockets, shivering. One of the things he definitely needed to do this weekend was find time to head to Value World to see about getting a warmer secondhand coat. He was layered to death, but it was getting colder everyday. Luckily his paycheck for last week had dropped into his bank account this morning, as regularly scheduled, so he had the money for gas, groceries, and a “new” coat, depending on the cost. And he still would have money for tires in two weeks, along with necessities, after he got paid for his extra shifts.
Winter break was coming up too, which meant no class at all. It was also one of the busier times at the warehouse too, so people were plenty happy to give him extra shifts. Just three blissful weeks of work and sleep and nothing else he had to do except spend time with his camera. He couldn’t wait.
Of course, with winter break fast approaching, that meant winter semester was coming up too, which meant new classes, a new schedule, and new textbooks and equipment, which, of course, meant more money. Which made it a good thing that he would be working all break.
Around and around it went.
Cameron shook his head and tried to gather his thoughts back up. Now was not the time to get lost in that never-ending spiral. Now was the time to get his head in the game and be a person. A person who had his life at least somewhat together and had definitely gotten a real, full night’s sleep. In a bed, even. Like normal people.
He paused once he realized that there were two different doors; one that was obviously the front door to Ezra’s house, and another that was clearly the outside entrance to the studio space. Suddenly unsure, Cameron pulled out his phone to recheck the text Ezra had sent to see if there were any instructions about which doorbell to ring.
Nothing.
Well, Cameron figured, Ezra had said to meet him at the studio, so he’d go with the studio door. If nothing else, the studio and the house were clearly connected so… probably Ezra would hear him either way. And when in doubt, Cameron could text. Though he really hoped he wouldn’t have to text and look like an idiot.
He walked up to the studio door and rang the bell, then stuffed his hands back into his pockets. He only had about a minute of feeling awkward before the door opened and Ezra was smiling down in him.
“Hey, good to see you made it,” Ezra said. He was wearing a dark green sweater and dark wash jeans, beard neatly trimmed, and kind of looked like he himself had walked off a photoshoot.
Cameron swallowed. “Yeah. Thank you.”
“Come on in, come in, it’s freezing.”
Cameron bit down the sigh that wanted to come out in reaction to the warm air of the studio, but then he was looking at the actual studio itself. Staring, more like it, because the place was gorgeous. It was one open, empty room, with a high, high ceiling, and light was being let in everywhere. Across the space, in the very back of the room, was a large desk and chair, with a huge monitor sitting on top of the desk. Then there was a big empty area in the middle of the room, with shelves all along one side. The other side, a bit recessed, was a… kitchen area from what Cameron could see, all marble countertops and shiny silver appliances, with a large kitchen island separating the space.
He distracted himself from feeling ridiculously out of place by unzipping his jacket.
“Did you find the studio okay?” Ezra asked, leading him further into the room.
“Oh, uh, yeah. Pretty easy. Just used GPS. You know.”
“GPS is a modern marvel,” Ezra said solemnly. “I frequently rely on it to save my life when I’m traveling to shoots.”
“Same, kinda,” Cameron offered, lighting upon this common ground. “I drive around a lot.”
Ezra chuckled. “I bet you sometimes feel like you live in your car, huh?”
“Yeah,” Cameron said weakly. “I definitely know that feeling.”
Ezra walked over to the kitchen island which, Cameron realized, was open on one side with chairs underneath. Ezra pulled out a chair and gestured to it. “Here, take a seat. You can just hang your jacket on the back of your chair, if you want.”
“Right, okay. Thank you.” Cameron set his backpack on the floor and shucked his jacket.
“I’ll go grab your paperwork,” Ezra said. “You can fill that out first. And feel free to make yourself a coffee or grab a cookie or something. I recommend a cookie, if nothing else. They’re from Sugar Tree. I did a shoot for them last week and I just got sent a gift basket.”
“Okay. Thank you.” Cameron was never going to turn down coffee or free food. “I’ve never heard of Sugar Tree cookies.”
“Well, in that case,” Ezra said over his shoulder, “have two.”
Ezra walked across the studio space and started up a set of stairs along the wall that Cameron hadn’t noticed. He looked up and saw that yeah, the ceiling over the kitchen was a little lower down over the rest of the studio. By the looks of it, Ezra had some sort of office above. Wow.
Cameron draped his jacket over the chair and then walked around the island to look at the rest of the kitchen. It was very slick and stylish and modern and he felt weird just being in it, much less touching anything. But, he supposed, if he was going to work for Ezra, he did need to start trying to get comfortable in the space.
The coffee machine was huge and very complicated looking, with several differently-sized white, ceramic mugs in little shelves right next to it. Some were the size of a thermos, while others were teeny-tiny. Cameron grabbed a medium-sized cup and turned his attention back to the coffee machine. The whole thing looked automatic, so if he could figure out what to do with it, he’d be golden. Probably.
When in doubt, tap the large screen, and doing so made the screen light up. Great. First success. The next thing to do was to apparently swipe through a million and one different coffee flavors and options.
Cameron wasn’t fancy with his coffee. Black, with sugar. But having so many options made him want to try one of the options. And Ezra had said it was okay…
Cameron furtively looked over his shoulder, unable to help feeling as though he was doing something wrong by placing his mug underneath the dispensing spout and selecting “mocha latte.”
He jumped a little when the machine made a noise, whirring to life, and the white mug started filling with something that smelled delicious.
“Okay,” Cameron muttered under his breath. “You’re fine. You’ve got this. You’re good.”
While his mug filled with mocha latte, he turned his attention to the giant green and white basket sitting right next to the coffee machine. It was filled with cookies—large cookies—each wrapped in plastic with a little stick that happily proclaimed the flavor.
Cameron licked his lips as he stared at the options. They all looked stupidly delicious.
Ezra had said he could take two.
After what was probably too long, he reached into the basket and pulled out a plain sugar cookie one because he was happy with simple and that seemed like a nice, safe option, and then, after a bit more deliberation, picked out one labeled “blueberry oreo cheesecake.”
“Those ones are probably my favorite.”
Cameron didn’t yelp, but he did spin around so fast he banged his hip into the counter, wincing and nearly dropping his cookies.
“Are you alright?” Ezra sai
d, sounding concerned as he hurried around the island. “I didn’t mean to startle you.”
“That’s okay,” Cameron said quickly. Fucking ow that had hurt. “Totally fine.”
“Are you sure?”
“Oh yeah. I’m okay.”
“Alright,” Ezra said doubtfully. “Well, I have your paperwork for the W2, as well as the form for direct deposit. Okay?”
“Sure, okay. Thank you.”
“Take your time,” Ezra said, nodding at the cookies in Cameron’s hand. “Enjoy your cookies.”
Cameron smiled hesitantly at him and went to grab the coffee mug, then carried his mug and cookies back around the island to sit down with the paperwork. He made sure that he didn’t limp, even though his hip really hurt. That was probably going to be a nasty bruise in a couple hours. Ugh.
He took a careful sip of his coffee, and had to pause for a second to process the fact that it was really fucking good. He was glad he would be sitting for at least a few minutes, because it was something he really wanted to savor. It was like drinking a coffee-flavored hot chocolate, with the added bonus of helping to warm up his insides, which hadn’t completely shaken off the chill.
He then turned his attention to his cookies. After much debate, he carefully unwrapped the fancy one. He was hungry anyway—he was always hungry—and eager to try it, because it wasn’t a flavor that he’d ever have dreamed up by himself. Obviously he’d save his other cookie for later.
The first bite, like the coffee, was really fucking good. He maybe closed his eyes to enjoy it. Fruity and cakey, not too sweet, and basically in all ways delicious. No wonder this one was Ezra’s favorite.
“Good, huh?”
Cameron’s eyes flew open as his cheeks went hot. He hadn’t realized Ezra had come back. “Yeah. Yeah, it’s, uh, not something I’ve ever had before. It’s great.”
Ezra tilted his head, a smile playing across his lips. “Why don’t you take another one of those too, then. For the road.”
Cameron’s eyes immediately went back to the basket. He very much wanted to take a third cookie. But three seemed like he’d be taking a lot. Besides, “But they’re your favorite.”
“I’ve already had plenty,” Ezra said. “It’s a big basket. And there are other flavors I like. Most of them, in fact.”
“Okay,” Cameron said. It felt stupid to argue the point. They were just cookies. And he also didn’t exactly want to turn them down, in the end. “Thank you.”
“I just came back because I need to scan your ID documents,” Ezra said. “Again, there’s no rush on the paperwork. Or the eating.”
“Thank you,” Cameron managed again, flushing hotter. Ezra sounded kind, not mean, but Cameron couldn’t help but feel seen. Like Ezra was looking into cracks that normally didn’t get shown to the light of day. Cameron was a quick eater normally, used to getting down his food as fast as possible. He was working on trying to eat slowly, if only because sometimes when he inhaled a meal on a very empty stomach, he paid for it in pain. But it was a hard habit to train himself out of. Once-in-a-while treats, though, those he was usually able to take the time to savor. And this cookie was a treat. It was a big deal, being given the luxury of not having to wolf it down.
It was ridiculous how happy it made him, to have permission to just sit and breathe and enjoy something, instead of being rushed right into work—even if it was work he wanted to do.
Cameron stared down at the form he was supposed to be filling out and didn’t comprehend any of it.
“Cameron,” Ezra said gently. “Did you bring your documentation with you?”
Cameron jerked his head up and fumbled for his backpack. “Right, yeah—sorry. Let me get that for you.”
***
After Cameron had finally handed over his filled-out forms, Ezra gave him a tour of the studio and explained what different sections were used for. Cameron had been right to think that the kitchen was often used for actual cooking. Chefs and food stylists prepared foods that Ezra shot in-house, and the kitchen also sometimes acted like a backdrop or mini set for pictures. The open space in the middle of the room was where most of the magic happened though. Or the photography part of the magic, anyway. Ezra had all sorts of backdrops that could be set up to look like all sorts of places, and a dozen different tables and other settings to place the shot’s subjects.
The shelves were filled with hundreds of props… and equipment. Everything from different types of placemats to light reflectors. And, in a cabinet on the far side away from the door, were Ezra’s cameras, lenses, and batteries.
Cameron maybe spent a few minutes marveling at Ezra’s collection of Zeiss lenses, but at least Ezra hadn’t minded. He’d even taken the time to show Cameron a few different ones and explained what he typically used each one for.
He then further explained that while his studio was well-stocked, usually when he was working with a company to do an in-house shoot, he had additional elements brought in, like pieces of furniture, table decorations, and silverware. Clothing for the models too, if humans were involved.
However, Ezra said, he still had a lot of props, and he was only one person, and they could get out of order fast. Part of Cameron’s job was going to be keeping the props organized and sorted.
“It’ll be a big job,” Ezra said. “So obviously I don’t expect you to knock it all out today, or even by the end of this month, especially since you’ll be doing other things too. But it’s something I do need done, so whenever I’m not having you work on other projects, you’re in charge of props. Okay?”
“Got it,” Cameron said, eyeing the many, many shelves. With a job to do and guidelines to follow, he was very good at settling into work. “What’s your system?”
“What do you mean?”
“Um… how are things sorted? By color? Or alphabetically? Or um, by type of item?”
Ezra grinned. “I knew there was a reason I liked you.” Before Cameron could squeak out a response to that, he continued, “I’m afraid there isn’t a system, exactly. I know vaguely where different things are kept, but sometimes things just get shoved wherever. I honestly spend altogether too much time before a shoot pulling props, and one of the reasons it takes so long is because I don’t know where anything is. I’m hoping you’ll help change that.”
Cameron nodded quickly. “I can definitely do that. I’m good at organizing things.”
“I rather thought you would be,” Ezra said, sounding pleased. Cameron had to duck his head at the praise. He wasn’t used to stuff like that just being said to him so easily. Especially when he hadn’t done anything to earn it.
But he would. He’d work hard and… hopefully make Ezra happy with the job he’d done, and then…
Maybe Ezra would tell him so, with that same smile.
On Cameron’s request, Ezra set him up with paper and labels and markers and tape, and then said he was going to be getting some work done and for Cameron to just shout for anything he needed.
Ezra didn’t, as Cameron had expected, go up the stairs to the upper level. Instead he went to the desk across the room and sat down, turning on the huge monitor sitting on top of it, which lit up to display a picture of an ice cream sundae sprinkled with M&Ms. Probably doing the other part of photography magic—the editing part.
Cameron figured it made sense for Ezra to stay downstairs, especially for Cameron’s first day of work. Less chance of Cameron taking off with something, or breaking something, or doing anything else that would have been totally reprehensible. Don’t trust the intern you don’t really know yet with tens of thousands of dollars worth of Zeiss lenses, for one thing.
Cameron tore his eyes away from Ezra, in part so that the man didn’t pick up on Cameron staring at him. He still hadn’t quite gotten over his awe at being allowed to be in the same room with him, much less work for him, and being offered cookies while Ezra wore a sweater that fitted across his chest beautifully and smiled at him…
Work. Cameron was h
ere to work. Get your head in the game, idiot.
He started by really sizing up the shelves. He was going to need to use a stool or something to reach the stuff stored on the very tops—Ezra was a good half head taller than Cameron was and probably didn’t need stools—but items there were mostly an assortment of oddly-shaped props, including two ornate birdcages. Cameron could leave those for later.
The storage shelves themselves were a little overwhelming. There were five of them in total, each with five shelf sections, and they were all wide and deep. Some things were stored in bins, both labeled and not, while other things, like dishes, were just stacked in various places.
He had his work cut out for him, that was for sure. But right, okay. First things first: to break the job down and not get overwhelmed by it. It was a method he used judiciously when the amount of work he had to do made him want to cry.
The best way to organize a mess was to pick something to focus on. In a perfect world, Cameron would just empty every shelf, spread everything out on the floor, and then put everything back together, but that was definitely not possible here. So alright, start with one shelf. Put it to rights as best as possible, then do another, until all five were sorted, and then reorganize so that everything was properly in sections.
Plan.
Shelf one seemed to at least have some sort of theme to it already; it, of all the shelves, had the most dishware on it, though there was no order to where they were placed or how they were placed. It was as good a starting point as any.
He worked steadily, shifting items one by one, shelf by shelf, stacking matching dishes and cups together, occasionally going hunting through the other four storage units to find pieces that were part of sets, or to grab other items to become part of Dishware Storage Shelf. After a while of gathering the props together as best he could, he then started sorting properly, by color and height, with taller items, like stacked bowls, in the back, to make best use of the space. There were easily a dozen different sets of white dishes, which made sense, he supposed. All the better to use as a plainer background to highlight the food, but the variety would be necessary so that shoots didn’t look same-y.