by Sam Hall
“We’ve got what we need here,” Marlow said.
“I don’t have what I need,” Billy said, rising to his feet, then he edged in close to me, forcing me to back up or be overpowered by his tall presence. He smiled when he saw me retreat, a long sly thing. “This one comes on tour.” His finger reached out to move a curl of my hair off my shoulder, but I flinched away. His teeth were bright against the deep brown of his skin. “You want this little truth session to play out the way you want it to? Bring her.”
“Yes, well, I’ll talk to Miss Leigh about the extended contract once the project is complete,” Marlow said with clipped tones.
His meaning was clear. Toddle along, Billy.
I let out a long breath when he nodded to the rest of us, then strolled out the room.
“Two more,” Marlow said brightly. “Liam may well have been right. We need more time to do this adequately. Johnno, you ready?”
“How do you want me?” the man in question said to me. He was answering Marlow’s question, but those golden eyes were directed entirely at me. Compared to Liam’s hostility and Billy’s feline languor, this kind of open…normality was a refreshing change.
I looked across at Anna, who just shrugged and said, “This is your show.”
“The brief is ‘naked,’ yeah?” I said to Marlow. The words sounded obscene now that all the drama had been sucked from the room. Who the fuck was I to be asking all these invasive questions? Of famous rock stars, no less? A small voice at the back of my mind remarked that this was very, very out of character, but I pressed on.
I wasn’t sure if I would ever be satisfied with just shooting the mist and the bush again. This camera, this room, the costumes and jewels, the technology… I always knew Jen lived a life of privilege, but this was the first time I really saw its appeal. It was like stepping through a fairy ring into a whole other world—one that tantalised and tempted.
“Do you mean literally?” Johnno said. “Do you want me to…?”
He moved over to the couch, and took a seat. My eyes dropped to the broad expanse of his shoulders, the t-shirt stretched firmly across them, the finely muscled forearms flexing and shifting as he fiddled with a tiny faux leaf that had come loose from a costume. Did I want him to strip off? I could just imagine it, that long muscular body reclining on the green fabric, the contrast between the crisp chartreuse fabric and his warm brown… I came to from that little fantasy to find everyone staring at me, but only Johnno wearing a slight smile.
“Just hold that for a second,” I said, taking a few quick shots. The way the light illuminated one brown eye, turning it pure gold, the boy next door freckles coupled with that gentle smile, his skin, the parts that had gotten more sun or not, it all made me want to do colour studies of all the shades of brown on him. His hair, strands of brown, dark blonde and auburn tousled together, his eyes, his eyebrows, his hands, which I caught tapping on his leg, the only sign that there was something going on beyond that.
I paused, looking him over, reducing him down into a series of pleasing shapes and colours for a moment. Unlike the others, he gave very little away. He was nice when Jake was being a dick, seemed to keep Billy in line, though why, I didn’t know. I switched the camera to automatic shooting and said, “Ditch the shirt,” wanting to reveal something in him, even if it was just his chest.
I caught the whole action, simple, economic, swift, the brown fabric tossed to one side and the man himself revealed to the lens. And it loved him. Fuck, most of the attention was on the other members of the band with their more extreme antics, but god fucking damn, I’m pretty sure I was going to set the fan girls alight with this sequence. Much the same as his brother, his chest was a hard-muscled plane, and my eyes followed that thin trail of dark hair from his belly button to his…
“Hold that,” I said, my attention jerked back to the job, and Johnno’s almost shy smile was a gorgeous contrast to the god-like body. It was a lady killer. Modesty where there was no need for it was likely to dampen knickers across the world. My lens captured every damn line of his body like a cartographer would a new country, mapping every detail. When I finally put the camera down, I realised I was standing too close for comfort, and his eyes met mine when I stepped back, that smile widening momentarily.
“Can I get a stool?” I asked the room. I wanted to get lower for these shots, make things more intimate.
“Why don’t you sit here?” Johnno replied, patting the couch.
I thought about it for a second. All my shots had been somewhat distant, even in macro. I’d kept myself away from the subject at all times, but to make the viewer feel like they were sitting right next to the hot rock star on the couch… That could work.
“OK,” I said, sitting at the corner of the second couch, looking across at Johnno as he leant back on the seat, angling his body towards me.
“You’re going to be out of shot,” I said, pointing to the camera over his shoulder.
“Don’t worry about it,” Anna said, moving one camera and pointing to the one on the other side.
“Shit, I’ll be in shot,” I said, about to move.
“Oh no, stay as you are,” Marlow said. “I’m seeing it now. Fan cum photographer has an intimate moment with Hartley brother. The public will eat it up with a spoon, imagining themselves in your shoes.”
Right.
I looked back again, feeling bloody naked myself. Why on earth had I suggested he take his shirt off? It’d made sense beforehand, when I was standing a reasonable distance away, but now he was close enough for me to smell the sandalwood cologne he’d put on, hear the soft sound of his breaths. The mask was definitely slipping, as I was unable to maintain that cool demeanour this up close and personal. It’d been years since I’d seen this much man in the flesh, and Nicky, the petrol station attendant, certainly hadn’t looked like this. I picked the camera up almost defiantly, feeling like the beautiful lens could tamp down what was swelling inside me.
“When have you felt the most naked?”
An eyebrow cocked.
“Changing the question on me, huh?” He nodded, thinking for a second then looking up at me. “Not here, that’s for sure. For some reason, this is kind of comfortable. More than tomorrow night will be. How I’m going to—” He shook his head. “Definitely not on stage. We put on a persona, hide it all behind the characters we’ve been assigned. It’s fun and liberating, pretending to be something you’re not for a moment, doing stuff you’d never even consider normally.” I felt a stab at that. Yep, my mask was being picked away, one little bit at a time. “Not with groupies, not with the band. Hmm…”
His eyes lost focus for a moment, and I found myself feeling relieved somewhat. It was as if my laser focus had been turned back on me by this seemingly nice guy. He wasn’t attacking me or provoking me, his tone at all times reasonable and even. Yet each word was a depth charge dropping down inside me, for exploding later.
“You’ve got us all confessing. Well, here’s mine. I met a girl. Not like Liam, across a crowded room or some shit. We just…came together. We didn’t talk much, just looked into each other’s eyes and…” His eyes held mine as I clicked, recording each expression on his mobile face. “Sometimes you meet someone and you just know. They see you, you see them, and nothing else matters. It was like… I haven’t got the words for it, not like Liam does. I could play it for you,” he said, a rueful smile following the words. “You take it further, of course, make sure you’re compatible, meet each other’s parents. All that bullshit to prove what you already know—you’re meant to be together.”
I caught the moment his eyes dropped down to his hands that now clawed at each other.
“We didn’t get the chance to pursue things, but for that moment, I felt like everything I am was on display, naked and open for her.”
Silence fell over the room. Not even the muffled sex noises from next door were able to penetrate this. There was only this frozen moment with all of us caught, as if in the
lens of God’s camera.
“So, we’re doing this?”
The accusation jerked everyone out of this momentary coma, and we all turned around to see Lucas North—a giant, blond Viking of a man and the band’s bass player—loomed in the doorway, his ice blue eyes taking in everything and obviously unhappy with what he found. Everyone except for Johnno.
“Did you get what you were after?”
Johnno’s gentle question made my focus snap back to him.
No, my mind instantly replied. Yes? No, no, no.
His smile twitched, as if he could read my every thought.
“That’s enough for our purposes,” Marlow said. He stared at Johnno, who hadn’t moved one bit, and instead, just continued to regard me with those light brown eyes.
“Give me your phone,” the guitarist said finally.
“What?” I replied, but my hand was going for it on automatic. He took it from me with a little nod, as if checking to see I was OK with it, then smirked, an honest to god dimple popping up as he did so. When he handed it back, I saw he’d added a contact for JH in my address book and sent himself a text from my phone. I just looked at him dumbly, unsure why he’d do such a thing.
“In case you need more shots,” Johnno replied with a wink, and then he grabbed his shirt and sauntered out.
“Lucas?” Marlow asked.
He took one look at me, shook his head, and then turned and said, “This is bullshit,” as he walked out.
The mask was absolutely starting to slip. I looked at the room as if with fresh eyes, saw the outrageous costumes, Liam’s discarded shirt left on the couch, the glare of the spotlights that were swivelled towards me now. I just blinked as Anna and Marlow conferred over the laptop, and my head felt hollowed out, a familiar enough feeling.
My shrink had once told me how to deal with situations like this. “Just bring your awareness back to the here and now when that happens. It’s a strange feeling, disorientating, but it won’t hurt you.”
What can I feel? I asked myself. The couch. It’s soft and kind of scratchy. The weight of the camera. The tingling in my arm.
That immediately brought with it a spike of fear, but I remembered her words.
“Anxiety makes us pay attention to the ‘background noise’ of our bodies. You will experience all sorts of odd states every day without even realising it, especially when anxious. Just remember, none of this can hurt you.”
What can I hear? Marlow and Anna talking, looking at me. The noise next door seems to have died down, finally. People talking outside. The beeping of a truck reversing far away.
What can I smell? Sandalwood. Just sandalwood.
I looked down at my phone, saw the contact there on the screen, and my hand started to tremble the longer I looked at it. Tour, contract, interview, phone. It was all too much, too weird. I wasn’t outside of my comfort zone, I was dropped so far beyond everything I’d ever known, I didn’t know which way was up. I shoved the device in my pocket, got to my feet, and grabbed my camera bag in a rush, the two of them glancing up in concern when I did so.
“Gotta go,” I said, the only explanation I could give.
I strode out of the room, past Jake and his harem, now naked and sated. My fingers twitched. There was something ultimately sensual about them right now, more so than when I was shooting him before. It was as if they could only get close to each other once drowsy with the afterglow, and my eye snatched quick details as I passed. The careless ways their bodies lay intersected, a web dislodged only when Jake raised his head to watch me go.
“Hey, what’s the rush, love? I’m sure I’ve got one more in me,” he called, his hand sliding down to his groin, but I ripped open the door and emerged out, out of the cocoon we’d created, out of whatever the hell magic was cast inside that room, and into chaos.
My head was thumping, the traitorous squiggles starting at the edges of my vision as people streamed in and out of the house. “Fuck! Not now,” I mumbled to myself. But my brain wasn’t having it.
I slammed my hand against the wall, needing the support as a lightning bolt of pain speared through my skull. “Fuck, fuck, fuck…” I whimpered, but as I looked around me—for help? For some way to abort what I knew was coming? It was too late now, as the halo of rainbow lights around the edge of my vision was making clear this would be a bad attack.
“Jen…” I gasped. “Jen?”
“Miss Leigh?”
I couldn’t reply or look to see who it was. I could only make an incoherent groan as a response. Fuck, this was hitting me hard and fast!
“You’re having another attack. Don’t worry, I’ll look after you.”
The words felt like they were coming from far away, muffled and distorted. I couldn’t respond, agree, nothing, while my muscles ratcheted tighter by the minute, as if bracing against the coming pain would do anything to help the situation. Which was perhaps why I was so surprised when my rescuer picked me up.
“It’s OK, I’ve got you,” he said as I squeaked in fright. “Just put your arm around my neck. That’s right.”
The world swum around me in a dizzying, nauseating mass, now reduced down to swirls of teeth jarringly intense colours, the lack of visuals helping to disorientate me further.
“I’m going to be sick,” I croaked.
“No, you won’t. Almost there.”
The warm, strong voice washed over me like a cool, damp flannel on the forehead, and I found myself letting out a long, slow breath, which was seemingly all it took before we got to our destination. I was deposited in a chair and my camera bag pulled over my head, even as my hands clawed at it compulsively.
“It’s just here.” My hand was picked up and placed on top of it, and some of the tension in my body leached out. “Here.”
“Coffee?” I asked hopefully.
There was the sound of something being made and then put on the table.
“Strong and black. A little bit of water added to cool it.”
My fingers were directed to the handle, and I struggled to get them to close around it. I heard my saviour move, that faint scuff that indicated they were about to swoop in and try to help me drink. I frowned, instantly regretting any move to the muscles in my face and took a sip.
It usually took a cup or two for the caffeine to start pumping through my system, shrinking the blood vessels in my head, and reducing if not aborting the attack. This was something else altogether. Reality snapped back, all of the vivid details flooding in so quickly, I jerked back in my chair. I was in one of the kitchenettes of the main house, the ones they used when holding a conference. The bland stainless steel and wood interior seemed to gleam, and amongst it, sat Mark.
“Oh, I’m so sorry—”
“Don’t worry about it,” he said, taking a seat at the table I was at. “Miss Rutherglen asked me to keep an eye out for you. I’ve alerted her to your condition.” I winced at that. I’d spent most of the day convincing people of my competence, and then I had to go and undermine all of that.
“What the hell was in that coffee?” I asked, looking at the dregs. It tasted slightly different, left a slight herbal aftertaste in my mouth. “I’ve never had anything stop an attack like that before.”
“An old remedy of my mother’s,” he said with a shrug. “I forgot about it until I saw you have that attack at the cafe. I reached out to an herbalist friend and got some shipped over. I meant to offer it to you, but then…” He gestured to the crazy that was going on outside the window. “I’m sorry, I should have asked if that was OK.”
“No,” I said, looking around. “I’ve never felt better.” I moved my head slowly, feeling the muscles in my neck protest a little, but that was more from having held them tense than referred pain.
And I did feel better. The world had taken on a luminous quality. I started when I saw a radiant beam of light pour through the window, the prismatic shower of colours tingeing it reminding me of my migraine-induced aura, but it appeared to just be the lig
ht refracting through the glass. The smoothly lacquered table we sat at looked almost strokable as the mirror-like surface reflected back a darkly distorted view of the room. And the man himself… The nap of his dark suit, the careless sweep of his hair, the faint stubble starting to shadow his chin—all drew my eye. His watched me closely, a tiny smile forming on his lips, something that had me studying them.
You’re staring too long, I thought, but I couldn’t seem to drag my eyes away. I took in the full shape of his mouth, the shifting, quirking movement as he watched me watch him, the slight indentation his teeth had left.
Whatever Mark had given me made me feel low key stoned. I wasn’t sure if it was just me riding the high of aborting an attack—something none of the drugs I’d been prescribed had achieved—or there was something more, but I was loving it. The world was beautiful, the table, the window, the light, my camera, Mark.
Whoa, what?
“Kira,” Jen said as she burst inside the door. “Mark told me…” She glanced at him, then me. “Am I interrupting?”
My gaze now transferred to her, and I couldn’t look away from her either. Had I noticed the terrifying symmetry of her face before? It was almost unnatural, without the usual quirks a human face had. Her eyes had a strange up-tilted cast I’d never paid attention to, and her hair fell behind her in a slow-moving swirl of white cobwebs. Her chin came to a sharp little point, her face so angular it hurt to look at her, but I did.
“Jen?” I said, looking closer and closer at her. She heard the question in my voice and frowned slightly, her eyes darting to Mark and back again.
“What did you give her?” she snapped.
“Just some elvesbane.”
“Just some elvesbane?” she repeated back, though her tone was considerably less polite. “Do you have any idea what you’re doing?”
“She was in a lot of pain, and she will be in a lot of pain if you want to go through with this. It will need to be managed. Elvesbane will do the least damage,” he replied, with none of his usually spotty servility. Jen’s eyes jerked towards me to look me over. “You know what this does, having extended contact with—”