“You look nervous,” Brad said with a chuckle.
“Nervous? No.” I quickly glanced to the ground and checked to make sure my robe was still tight.
“Just do as Brad tells you. He knows exactly what we need for the portfolio and he’s great. If you follow his directions and do exactly what he says, believe me, you’ll be a star in no time.” Sonja said before turning and walking away.
Now that I was alone in the studio with Brad I could feel my palms starting to sweat. I had absolutely no idea what to do, so I waited for him to take the reins.
“Let’s get started,” he said, looking at me and smiling before walking toward one of the clothing racks. He looked through assorted pieces and hummed at the same time, sometimes pulling things out to put together an outfit and then shaking his head.
“Is there a process to this?” I asked, trying to learn as much as I could.
“Not really,” Brad said, “we just have to find something that accentuates you in just the right way.” His dimpled smile made my breath stop.
Then I saw him pull out an indigo dress that was pinched at the waist and had a flowing, pleated skirt. He selected a matching pair of slate-gray stilettos and promptly turned to face me.
“Try these on.” He said, handing them over. I immediately looked around the studio and then turned back to look at him, skeptical.
“Here?” I asked, my throat going dry. The thought of dropping my robe in front of him turned my stomach with a somersault.
“I can give you some privacy if you need it,” he told me before turning out from the doorframe, but not bothering to close the door. I heard the sound of his footsteps start to fade before they came to a stop. I gripped the dress and stilettos, looking around again even though I knew there was no changing area. My eyes landed on the racks of clothes and I went to stand behind them to quickly get dressed. Brad came back a few minutes later.
“Ready?” he asked, seeing only my head and shoulders poking out from behind the rack of clothing.
“Yea, just…” I was struggling to get my second stiletto on, “one…” It was catching on my heel, “second…” Just as I secured it in place my other foot rolled over. The room filled with my panicked scream as I lost my balance and started to fall over. In a frantic-last-ditch-effort to save myself I reached for a dress hanging on the rack as I fell back.
“Shit! Are you okay!” Brad yelled as he ran over to me just in time to watch me fall through the clothing rack and rip the dress I was clutching onto for dear life. I landed on the ground with a heavy thud and stared up at the studio ceiling, cursing myself for being such a clutz.
“Are you okay.” Brad said as he tried his best to stifle a laugh. He reached down to help me up. I quickly took his hand and stood up, brushing off my dress as I did.
“Shit…” I muttered as I looked at the damaged dress on the clothing rack. It was a sheer gold dress that looked closer to a curtain than a piece of clothing. “How much is that?”
Brad caressed his hand on my shoulder and looked me up and down to make sure I was okay. “Oh that thing?” he looked back at the tattered piece of cloth barely hanging on the rack, “I dunno, probably a thousand dollars or so.”
I sucked in a deep breath and looked at him with shock. “A thousand dollars!”
“Give or take. Don’t worry about it.” He quickly grabbed it off the rack, “We’ll just…” He looked around the studio, “put it over here.” He laughed as he tossed it into some dark corner out of sight.
I stood there trying to catch my breath and slow my racing heart. I had never felt like such an idiot. I looked up at Brad to see him staring at me. His face of concern was slowly turning up into a huge grin. “You really took a tumble there. Not used to those things.” He said, pointing down at my shoes.
“No. I mean yes.” I drew another deep breath as Brad’s contagious grin was starting to make me smile. “No I’m not used to them.” Our eyes locked for a brief moment before we both filled the room with laughter.
“Well, how do I look?” I asked as our laughter started to die down. I figured I had to look good by the way his eyes raked over me from head-to-toe.
“Stunning.” He nodded in approval.
I was gripping the pole of the clothing rack. I felt even more unsteady in the stilettos than I had in the pumps Nadine lent me when we went to Roses. Luckily, I’d spent the weekend trudging about the apartment in heels to be at least a bit more used to them before work rolled around, but apparently I still wasn’t use to them enough.
Brad walked forward and placed a hand on my waist to tug at the dress, making sure it was a good fit.
“Sonja has quite the eye for picking sizes,” he commented. He gave me a warm smile, “You look great. We can get started.” Everything he said was genuine, but he said it so casually it threw me off sometimes. It was the same as when we first met, only this time I felt even more of a draw to him. Maybe it was our shared laughter or the way he looked at me afterward? He nodded toward the center of the backdrop. I headed over to it, trying my best to walk steadily on the sky-high stilettos.
“Alright, place a hand on your hip.” Brad said as he brought the camera to his face. “But your body, you know, do something. Stick your hip out just a bit. Good.” Multiple snaps of the camera’s shutter instantly filled the room. Then he did some more with a flash, the bulbs blinding me momentarily.
“Now turn to face the door with your body and look at me over your shoulder. Hand on your hip, no the other hip. Right.” More snaps and repeated flashes. I could practically feel him studying every inch of my body through the lens. By the third set of instructions, I figured out each set was done with and without a flash.
I was rather stiff at first but, much like last time, I started to relax thanks to his coaxing and undeniable natural charm. He handed me a clutch and placed a necklace on me for a few more sets with the indigo dress before deciding it was time for an outfit change. This time, he went straight to the dresses and pulled out a slinkier dress, but it was still tasteful in its own way. It was burgundy, skin-tight, and somewhat short. He handed me black stilettos and an edgy but chic choker before stepping out.
“You don’t need my help changing do you?” He laughed as he made his way toward the door.
“No! I think I got it this time.” I shot back with a smile.
“Okay, just checkin’.”
As soon as I changed clothes we started off with the same basic poses as before. I was sure this time my photos would end up looking much better now that I wasn’t nearly as stiff as I had been at the beginning. It was two hours in when I had to take a seat on the stool, my feet killing me from standing in so many different pairs of awkward shoes. We’d gone through a total of three outfit changes, all of which were dresses, before he called Carol in to style my hair in a messy ponytail.
Once that was finished, Brad had already selected a more casual outfit for me to wear. Tight black leather leggings, a salmon-colored tube top that flowed over my figure, and black pumps. He handed me large bracelets with shining studs and matching earrings before stepping out so I could get dressed. This time around I had to poke my head out into the hallway to call him in.
“I’m ready,” I told him with a perky smile.
“Getting bolder by the minute.”
“What?” I asked in surprise as he walked past me into the studio, not bothering to hide his glance up and down my body. In any other situation it would have felt awkward, but I knew it was part of his job to make sure I looked good.
“Don’t feign innocence. You can’t play me!” he teased but his smile gave him away.
“I wouldn’t be so sure about that,” I shot back cheekily before popping my hip out and posing playfully, but he was quicker than me. He’d snapped a few photographs in quick succession before I gasped and stood up straight.
He lowered the camera and tilted his head, “That was good.”
I stared at him in mock anger. I had just be
en playing around, but that seemed to have impressed him the most. “When you’re natural and free, the best photographs happen.”
I looked into his forest green eyes. I felt a jolt course through my body. Just like last time however, I couldn’t tell if he felt even remotely the same way. This time, however, I had at least a small inkling he was interested in me or, at the very least, found me charming. Then again, maybe he was just doing his job and making me feel comfortable.
“Maybe if I find you a farm-themed outfit you’ll be a lot freer,” he joked.
“High-fashion photo shoot of me selling blueberry pies?” I said with a wink. “I think not.” I flashed a big grin and stretched out both arms to wag my index fingers back and forth. The room filled with a dozen more clicks of his camera.
“Damn,” he muttered, looking down at the screen on his camera. “That would have been one hell of a photo if your outfit matched your spunky attitude.”
“Really? That?”
He looked up at me, eyebrow cocked. Maybe I had gone too far in my newfound comfort with him and he took it as me questioning his vision and professionalism. Really what I was questioning was my ability to take good photos. I recalled looking at pictures of models in magazines and being particularly impressed by those who seemed full of life. I had hoped to one day give the same impression through my own photos.
Brad placed his camera on the stool and walked over to the rack of clothes, pulling out a pair of black denim shorts, a loose knit gray top that was sheer, and a black bralette. Then he grabbed a pair of thigh-high gray socks and a pair of dark green, heeled boots.
“Try this outfit on,” he told me with a half smirk before walking out. My eyes couldn’t help but trail down his back and check out his cute butt wrapped up tight in his jeans. I felt a sudden spark course through my veins. I needed to calm my budding feelings—no need to push this beyond being professional.
I stood there, staring at the door, wondering if I had done something wrong. He didn’t seem angry or annoyed, but he had suddenly gotten serious and requested an outfit change. I also noticed the outfit was very different from everything else he had selected so far. This had edginess to it, everything else was sexy and somewhat elegant. After pulling it on I wished more than ever there was a mirror in the studio so I could see how it looked on me, but then decided maybe it was for the best I couldn’t. Maybe that was why there wasn’t a mirror after all. The photographer wouldn’t want the models to start feeling self-conscious in anyway.
Brad stepped in and looked at me and I could have sworn he gulped hard at the sight.
“I was right,” he said, walking over to pick up his camera off the stool. “That outfit is perfect for you.” He nodded toward the backdrop and I went to stand at the center.
“Hold on,” he said. I exhaled and mindlessly tugged at my ponytail. I heard a few clicks of the camera’s shutter and I whipped my head around to look at Brad who continued to click away. I felt tricked, but something told me he hadn’t done it on purpose. He grabbed the stool beside him and placed it in front of me.
“Sit down,” I followed his instructions, instinctively putting a foot on the lower bar so that my knee was bent. Brad snapped a few photos before looking back and spotting another stool.
He went to grab it and pulled it over to where he stood before. Taking a seat, he stared directly at me, studying me more intently than ever. There was something about the way his eyes raked over my body that made me feel nervous.
“Tell me about Iowa.” I stared at him blankly. “Go on,” he pushed.
I started with the only thing I could think of—blueberry pies. As I talked he started to snap photos seemingly at random. It was hard to ignore at first, but eventually I was able to shut out the constant clicking of the camera. He took more photos whenever I got more animated. He stood up and walked a bit off to the side, causing me to stand and turn to face him without thinking twice about it.
“That’s a wrap.”
I stared at him in surprise. Already? I felt my knees go weak when I saw his dimple form as he smiled back. Just as I started to head back to the room where my clothes were, Brad called out. “Chloe.” I turned to look at him, “Would you like to go out with me Friday evening?”
My eyes traced over his face as I gulped nervously. Did he really just ask me to go out with him?
“Okay.” I said, trying my best to hide my quivering voice.
“Okay yes? Or okay no?” His eyes squinted as he tried to make sense of me.
“Okay yes!” I shot back with a timid laugh.
I left Shoot about forty minutes later feeling over the moon, but more nervous than I had been when I first arrived in New York. Not only did I just wrap up my first real photo shoot, but I just agreed to go on a date with the one man who’s given me wobbly knees ever since I got to the big city.
It wasn’t just that he was someone I barely knew and worked with. The thing was, I’d never been on a ‘real date’ before. Sure, I’d had a boyfriend or two briefly in high school, but I never thought of hanging out with him as being a date. It was totally different. Now I was on my own in the city and living a life that was radically different from the one I had known forever.
I continued to walk, ending up at Central Park. It was a lovely evening and there were still plenty of people roaming about. I walked rather aimlessly, wondering how I had gotten into this. What did I even have to say on a date that would be interesting? I sighed and sat down on a park bench, picking at the strap of my purse. As I looked down at it I realized I didn’t even know what to wear. I had absolutely nothing that was good for a date! I quickly got up and started to head home, hoping that one of my roommates would be there and be willing to loan me some clothes.
The big city life was starting to get very interesting.
Friday evening rolled around much faster than I anticipated. Between meetings with Sonja to pick out the best shots for my portfolio, interviews for blurbs to place in my bio, a meeting with the other scouts, and even an audition for a future photo shoot in a teen magazine, everything had been a flurry.
In between all that, I managed to squeeze enough time to plan an outfit from my roommates’ closets and even go shopping for my own pair of black heels, which cost more than I could have ever imagined shoes could cost. I settled it in my mind as an investment and a treat.
I met Brad at a swanky tapas restaurant in the Lower East Side. I wore a knee-length, pleated plum cocktail dress that just barely showed off my cleavage. It was fitted at the upper part of the bodice, but mostly flowed. It was quite alluring on my fair skin especially paired with my new black heels.
Brad was standing outside the main entrance to the restaurant when I arrived. He looked at me and for the first time I felt like his eyes raking over my entire body was him actually checking me out instead of making sure I looked good for the camera. It gave me an entirely new feeling. My stomach tumbled and I felt my heart pound.
Brad was irresistible in a sport coat, dark jeans and leather shoes. He looked simultaneously casual and dressed up properly for a date and I couldn’t help but wonder how it was he pulled it off. I wondered if he had just been born with an innate sense of style or if he had been molded into this through his work as a photographer. Either way, it was his natural charm that stood out above everything else about him. He walked forward to greet me and, much to my surprise, leaned in to kiss me on the cheek.
“You look gorgeous,” he said with a smile. I felt my cheeks grow hot, but I murmured a timid, “thank you. You look…” I swallowed hard, “great also.” I clenched my eyes shut and cursed myself inside my head. For some reason spitting out a simple compliment felt like a grueling exercise.
He chuckled, “Are you really that nervous around me?” All I could do was give a playful laugh and shake my head before he placed his hand in the small of my back and led me inside the restaurant. “We have reservations,” he told me when he noticed I was looking at the crowds of people waiti
ng to be seated.
We were immediately taken to a table for two in the back corner of the restaurant, which seemed to resemble a large corridor to me. There was a row of tables placed somewhat close together lining the back wall, a long table down the center, and bar seating around what appeared to be the kitchen area on the other side. The place was loud and busy, but I could still see it was clean, neat, and tastefully decorated in its simplicity.
The walls were a light color with some tile placed here and there for decoration. The tables were a smooth and deep wood color with dark cushioned dining chairs to match. It was dimly lit which added a cool, nightlife atmosphere to the place. I wondered if this was a common thing in New York City restaurants. There were exposed vents on the high ceiling and long, steel strings hung down bearing bare bulbs shaped like tear-drops. Somehow the place managed to look high-end with a slight industrial feel. The restaurant made me think of Brad’s style, both in how he dressed and how he handled himself.
SHOOT: A Novel Page 6