by M. S. Parker
Six
Sean
The sugary liquid dripped down my face, stinging my eyes and sending drops down my lips and into my mouth. I still couldn't believe that I'd had a drink thrown in my face.
Who did that girl think she was? Better question, who was she?
I wiped a hand down my face to remove the excess apple-flavored insult. The people around me had the good sense not to comment on what just happened, and were mingling with each other like nothing out of the ordinary had occurred. They were trained well.
Just before I’d stepped into her path, the girl had been speaking to my lawyer. I wondered if he knew who she was. Probably, since he seemed to have a finger on every girl in this place. Literally.
I sought Jack out, finding him on the patio with a redhead I'd screwed a few weeks ago. She seemed much less into him than she had been into me, of course, but she was still giving him the time of day, just for being here, looking important. Typical.
“Hey, Jack,” I called. “I need to talk to you.”
A pained expression ran over his face briefly, then he turned on the lawyer dazzle and plastered on a grin. After excusing himself from the redhead's company, Jack walked over to my side.
“Great party, Sean.” He glanced back over at his companion. “Great party.”
I got right to the point.
“Who was that girl you were talking to earlier? The brunette with the long legs?”
“I talked to a lot of chicks tonight,” he replied. “Not many I remember.”
“You’d remember this one. She had huge tits and an attitude to match.”
Jack let out a barking laugh. “I know who you’re talking about now. Her name’s Hazel Hunter. Want me to introduce you?”
I could still taste apple on my lips. “We've met.” After a pause, I added, “And how do you know her?”
Sean shrugged. “I met her at a wedding. Hot and talented. I offered to bring her along to this party so she could network a little.”
My eyebrows shot up in surprise. Jack didn't just know her, he'd brought her. Normally, he preferred his women a little more...fuckable. Hazel was cold as ice. I was intrigued.
“Admittedly, I've been a pretty shitty date,” Jack continued. “I was supposed to be introducing her to people looking for a photographer. I guess I just got distracted.” He glanced back at the redhead. “Heh. Funny how that happens.”
“So, she's a photographer?”
Jack turned back to me. “Yeah, did I not mention it? She was the photographer at the wedding.”
Ah, that made more sense. Jack must've tried hitting on her with no success, and then pulled up the next card in his deck. Career advancement.
“She works at a little photography studio downtown,” Jack said.
“What's it called?”
Jack's brow creased with the question. Nonetheless, he pulled out his wallet and began leafing through the cards there. Handing me a business card for Flash Flash, he said, “Why do you want to know all this? It's not like you to go calling up broads.”
I fingered the card. It wasn't even embossed, and the cardstock was cheap and flimsy. Maybe this Hazel was a photographer, but she couldn't have been a well-known one.
“I've got a bone to pick with her,” I replied absently, still staring at the card. “Don't worry, I'll be polite. I always am.”
Jack's attention had already strayed back to the redhead. He'd turned almost his whole body to face her, so much so that when I waved a goodbye to him, he made it back to her side quickly.
I, on the other hand, took my time walking back inside. I pulled out my phone and searched the address of the studio. There, a pinpoint on a map, was where I'd find the devilish beauty who'd thrown her drink in my face.
“Hey, Sean!”
I barely glanced up at the approaching brunette. She had magnificent tits, almost as nice as Hazel's. She fluttered her eyelashes provocatively and ran a pink-tipped fingernail down my arm.
“I've been thinking about your cock a lot lately, but I can't remember how big it is. Maybe you could give me a refresher?”
I thought she looked familiar, but I couldn't recall her name. Or when we'd screwed.
“Not now.” I pulled away from her and kept walking, going right through the middle of the party, which parted before me.
Much as I always loved a good screw, I was in an obvious state of distraction. And I could not, for the life of me, stop thinking about Hazel. The first girl to ever turn me down.
Seven
Hazel
“That's great, Mandy!” I said. “Hold that pose just a little longer. You look beautiful.”
The little girl's gap-toothed grin would be adorable in the photos. Her parents crouched on either side of her, smiling and looking great. They were good subjects, not fidgeting or complaining as many of my clients did in these kinds of shoots.
I took a few more shots and reviewed them on my camera screen before giving a thumbs-up to the young family. “We're good to go. Why don't you guys take a seat out front while I start printing?”
Hank started gently ushering his daughter out in front of him, and Cindy followed close behind. Not long after, I had their package all ready to go. But the once smiling family now looked troubled. Except Mandy, that is. She looked just as beatific as she had since we started this session. I had no doubts that this girl was a star in the making. She loved the camera, and the camera loved her.
“What's the matter, guys?” I was typing their order into my payment screen. “Do you not like the photos?”
Hank rose and walked toward the counter. Leaning in, he murmured, “We, uh, we checked our bank balance while you were in the back. I thought that I had a paycheck coming in today, but it looks like it's bounced.” He frowned. “I'm so sorry, but we can't pay you. Not today. Is there some way we could come back for the prints?”
I plastered a gentle smile on my face, even though I was sighing inside. Oh, the glamorous life of a low-budget photographer.
“While that's obviously not ideal, you guys get your photos done here every year.” I printed a copy of the invoice and handed it to him. “If you pay part of what's owed now, I don't mind waiting a few days for the rest.”
Hank's face lit up. “Really, Hazel? That means a lot.”
We finished up the transaction and I watched them leave. Mandy waved the red sucker she'd plucked from my candy bowl as the door closed behind them.
Before the door fully closed, the bell trilled and swung open. “Good morning, beautiful. And what a beautiful morning it is.”
I laughed at Cora’s cheery countenance. She had always been and would always be an unapologetic morning person. She didn't even sleep in on the weekends like a normal human being.
“Good morning to you too,” I replied. “Though it's nearly noon.”
“Which is exactly why I'm here.” She leaned onto the counter, fixing me with a bright, cheerful expression. “Let's get lunch. I'm starving.”
I raised a quizzical brow. “You just wanted to drop in out of the blue to go for lunch?”
Cora laughed. “That's what people do when they're hungry in the afternoon, isn't it?”
Hungry for information, maybe. I hadn't talked to her since the “networking event.” Admittedly, I was putting it off.
I knew there was no way to recount the events of the evening without telling Cora that I'd been propositioned by none other than Sean Morris. And that I'd turned him down. I had no doubts about what she would have done in the same scenario – the opposite.
My stomach gave a woeful grumble. There was no more putting it off. I needed to eat and I needed to tell Cora about my night, if for no other reason than to get her opinion on a thought that had been niggling me all day.
“Just give me a couple minutes to lock up,” I told her.
Original Thai was, without a doubt, my favorite restaurant in the city. Though Seattle abounded with Thai food, Original's had been meeting a standard of
excellence since the first time I went there. Plus, the rustic decor gave the place a chill vibe that never failed to help me center myself after a long day of monotony.
Cora came at me with questions – as predicted – immediately after we'd placed our orders. “So how was the networking event? Did you meet anyone famous? Are you famous now?”
I took a sip of my water and then gave the Cliff's notes of everything that happened that night, from Jack ditching me at the first opportunity to me tossing a drink in a sleazy rock star’s face. By the end of it, Cora's lips were pulled back in such a state of childish glee that I wouldn't have been surprised to see her bouncing in her chair.
“You're pulling my leg,” she said.
I shook my head. “Not even a little. That's what happened.”
“You had a chance to sleep with Sean Morris, notorious sex god, and you didn't?” Cora's eyes took on a glazed, dreamy property. “I read somewhere online that he's got magic fingers. Which isn't a surprise, given his guitar playing.”
I flicked some water from my drink at her. “Hey, focus, Cora. That's not why I was there.”
“You could have been there to promote a charity for kids born without faces, and it would have still been appropriate to sneak off for a quick shag with Sean Morris. He's a legend.”
I sighed and rubbed the bridge of my nose between my thumb and forefinger. If I wanted to move things along a more serious path, I was going to have to be a little more aggressive.
“I've been feeling like shit all day, Cora. And not because I passed on a chance to have my guitar strummed by an ego with legs.” I sighed and plopped my chin on my fist. “I don't know if I'm cut out for this.”
Cora sobered in a flash. No matter how off track she got, she could always be relied upon to zoom into focus the second I needed her to.
“What do you mean?”
“I freaked out at the party,” I explained. “Didn't talk to anyone. Except Jack and Sean, and you know how that went.” Wrinkling my nose, I added, “I'm not sure if putting up with that kind of bullshit is worth it to get into celebrity photography.”
“Because it's going to push you way out of your comfort zone?” Cora's expression was flat. “You've got an in now, babe. Sure, you freaked out at the party. But you can still call up that Jack guy and see if there are more parties he can take you to. And maybe at the next one, you won't insult the host. You just need to grow a thicker skin.”
I hadn't thought about it that way. Whoops.
“I still don't know.” I swirled my straw absently. “Maybe I'm just not cut out for it. Maybe Bridezillas and awkward family photos are just where I live and where I'm always going to live.”
I hugged Cora outside the restaurant, and we went our separate ways. I was feeling better now about my career prospects, but not by much. Cora was always so supportive that I wondered if sometimes she had blinders on when it came to me. She seemed to think I could do absolutely anything I set my mind to, which was sometimes just as frustrating as it was empowering.
On the way back to work, I tried not to think about what we'd discussed. I figured it would be a good idea to take a break from thinking about whether or not to call up Jack again. In my haste to shift my thoughts, however, they wound up somewhere entirely unexpected.
More specifically, on a certain rock star's tattooed back.
It wasn't that I was attracted to him, of course, but a broad, muscular back like that, all covered with tattoos, would look remarkable shot in black and white against a backdrop of crisp white linens. Shit, now I was picturing him naked in bed.
He would be a good subject! I refused to apologize for thinking so. Even if I did feel strangely guilty about that particular mental image. Even if the thought of his naked body and smoldering eyes did make me tingle in unexpected places.
Eight
Sean
It always amazed me how much I could get away with just by putting on a baseball cap and some shades. Anybody who knew me personally would recognize me, but somehow, the wearing of those two accessories in combination rendered me invisible to the undiscerning eye. Well, not invisible. I still got a few lusty stares as I walked down the street, but at least nobody was jumping at me, tits first.
I found the little photography studio sandwiched between an all-night convenience store and a sketchy looking diner. The light was off, and when I pulled on the door, it refused to budge. Locked. Fuck.
Screw this. I wasn't going to be seen waiting at the front door like an asshat when Hazel came back from whatever she was out doing. Probably lunch, given the hour. So, I turned and headed back the way I came. Except who did I see walking up the street toward me?
It took a second for the recognition to dawn on Hazel's face, but when it did, her reaction was priceless.
“Are you kidding me?” she asked.
I laughed and stopped on the sidewalk, thrusting my hands in my pockets as I watched her approach.
Her raven black waves fell nearly to her waist and caught in the weak rays of sunlight peeking through Seattle's ever-present cloud cover. I admired the way her cheeks were a little pink, and her lips were very red, contrasting perfectly with her beautiful creamy skin. The whole look was topped off by an adorable button nose and high, defined cheekbones.
She was a stunner, even if her outfit of a baggy t-shirt and jeans left something to be desired.
“Is this like the Police song?” she asked. “Because I've never thought the whole ‘tortured artist stalker’ thing was attractive.”
Hot and a sharp wit...I had my work cut out for me with this one.
“Don't be so full of yourself,” I replied. “I'm here to get photos taken. You are a photographer, aren't you?”
That stopped Hazel short. She was close enough now for me to hear her keys jingle as she fumbled with them, likely trying to figure out the best way to get me out of there.
Then, unexpectedly, she continued past me and unlocked the door. “Well, come on in then.”
Maybe this wouldn't be as hard as I thought. Why was that thought disappointing?
Hazel flicked on the lights and shrugged out of her jacket, leaving it hanging on a coat hook by the long, laminate countertop.
“So, do you prefer laser beams or rainbow starburst?” Hazel asked, gesturing for me to follow her into a small back room where a series of backdrops hung on the wall. “As I'm sure you must've figured out before you came here, this is a family portrait studio. If you want new passport photos, you're in the right place. If you want glamor shots that don't look like they came out of a 1990s Sears catalog, then you're shit outta luck.”
If she thought the starburst pattern on the backdrop was going to put me off, she was dead wrong. I hadn't gotten this far in life because I was afraid to put myself out there in the name of getting what I wanted.
“This'll do.” I grabbed the bottom of my t-shirt and slipped it over my head, tossing it casually to the side.
Hazel's mouth dropped open. The brief ogling she'd done when she saw me earlier was nothing compared to this. This was full-fledged, cheap appreciation, if only for a flash of a moment.
Then her shields went back up, and a second later, she was looking through the camera lens at me with the expression of a cool professional.
“So where do you want me?” I asked. “Can you take a pensive shot of me looking up into the air and Photoshop another picture of me floating there?”
And there it was – the faintest twitch of her lips that told me everything. She was mine. She hated everything about me and loathed the part of her that wanted to shred her clothes off right now and have a hot fuck right here in the middle of her studio, but I was in.
Now it was just a matter of time.
Nine
Hazel
“Alright, hands in your pockets,” I instructed. “Turn your head just a little bit more to the left, and keep your gaze distant.”
I snapped another couple of photos, then looked at them as they fl
ashed across the screen. Did this guy even have a bad side? Every photo I took of him came out flawless. Even though the backdrop we were on now was a cheesy beach scene, he was still killing it.
We'd barely talked during our impromptu photo shoot, but the few words we had exchanged had been, on his part, flirty but still polite. And respectful, no less, which was something I hadn't expected at all.
“Do I look like I'm waiting for my father to return from the war?” Sean asked.
I stifled a giggle. “You could reach a longing hand out toward the waves if that's the look you're going for.”
Quite unexpectedly, Sean did just as I suggested. I was barely able to keep from laughing long enough to take the photo. His expression was sober, and if there had been a real ocean, it might've actually been a bit artistic.
I had to admit. He wasn't as bad as I thought he would be, and the heavy sense of trepidation that had followed me into the photo studio after lunch had evaporated.
“Okay, all done,” I announced. If I was finding him less than awful, it was clearly time to end the shoot and get him the hell out of here. “Give me a sec to get these uploaded and then I'll run through our package offerings.”
Sean snickered but didn't make any jokes about his package offerings. Which was good for him, because I would have thrown the camera at his face otherwise.
Sean followed me to the computer. “You could make a killing off those pictures if you sold them.”
Normally, clients didn't stand over my shoulder while I processed their photos. They were usually relegated to the other side of the counter. I'd forgotten to do so, and now he was much too close.