by Jo Watson
“You!” He pointed at Cindy. “Have you lost your car keys? Have you forgotten how to drive? Or worse, have you forgotten the name your mother gave you when she gave birth to you?” he yelled at her and jaws dropped to the floor.
“Sorry?” Cindy blinked at him like a confused little deer.
“Stop looking so confused. And stop looking like you’re dehydrated and stop posing.”
“Huh?” Cindy looked extra-confused now.
“Like that.” He pointed at his face. “You models are all the same. The same, the same the fucking same! Cheekbones, lips, cheekbones, posing, ‘where am I, who am I, am I lost?’”
Horror washed over everyone’s faces as we looked from Giovanni to Cindy and back again. He growled, ripped the shirt off his head and threw it onto the sand.
“I need to meditate.” He walked off set in a dramatic huff leaving everyone to stare after him, except the producer, whose job it was to placate the beast. She ran off after him as if someone had lit a firecracker in her pants.
“I guess, everyone take a break,” Ben called out, before walking over to a shell-shocked-looking Cindy.
Everyone started dispersing, except me. I stood and watched Ben lay a compassionate hand on Cindy’s shoulder. She looked coy and placed her hand over his as he squeezed her shoulder in a commiserative fashion. Or was it a different fashion entirely? A “meet me in my room later and fuck me” fashion? I moved away quickly before anyone could see the death stare I could now feel involuntarily shooting from my eyeballs.
The day was sweltering hot, and it wasn’t very relaxing. I ducked into the craft tent to get some much-needed shade and a cool drink. I grabbed a cold Coke and just before I’d had a chance to open it, something caught my eye.
“Oh! Sorry, I didn’t realize you were, uh …” doing what exactly? Giovanni was perched in the corner of the tent on a chair, legs crossed, still shirtless and hands posed in some sort of meditative position. He really hadn’t been kidding about that.
He looked up at me and smiled. “Peaceful.”
I nodded and pretended that I knew the first thing about this spiritual stuff. “Mmm. Good for you.”
Giovanni climbed off the chair and his eyes swept over me. “Hot.” He said it more like a statement than an actual question.
“Very.” I opened the can and raised it to my lips. I must have downed the thing in a few sips.
“Thirsty,” he said. He didn’t seem like the sharpest tool in the drawer, but he certainly made up for it in looks. Besides, I doubted very much that the women who spent time with him were doing it for the scintillating conversation.
“Sweaty.” He stepped towards me and glanced at my neck. And then it happened. Without warning, the man was wielding a block of ice and running it over my collarbones and up and down my neck. The coolness of the ice made my hot skin tingle. But I couldn’t move. I was in shock. I couldn’t work out if this was the worst, most inappropriate thing that anyone had ever done to me, or if I was actually vaguely turned on by this strange move. No. This was definitely revolting.
“Hot,” he repeated again, this time adding a little lip bite.
“True. So very true,” I said wiggling away from the melting cube and his intense stare. “Well, I feel much better now. Cooler. Thanks.” I started exiting the tent and in my haste, almost ran right into Ben’s chest. Not awkward. At all.
“Ben! Hello, Ben.” I tried to wipe all the water off my neck and collarbones as if it were some kind of scarlet letter that had been branded into me. “Hot. Isn’t it?” I smiled at him and quickly ran off. Was this really happening to me? Did I really have two men coming on to me? Nothing like this had ever happened before.
We wrapped a few hours after my collarbones had been sexually assaulted with an ice cube and moved on to the second location. It was only a short way away, but the landscape looked completely different. The ground was bright red, as were the massive sand dunes that rose up in all directions. There were no trees this time, just endless red dustiness that stretched out all the way to the horizon. If I’d thought the previous place looked like it was on another planet, this one looked like it would be in another galaxy.
Getting the car into the right place this time had taken more effort as the sand was soft. The art department ran around meticulously cleaning every grain off the car and wiping away the tread marks in the sand. Another outfit was chosen for Cindy, this time it was even smaller and tighter than the previous one.
She really looked like she was putting extra effort into it after the yelling Giovanni had given her. She leaned backwards over the bonnet like she was about to snap her spine in half. She bent and twisted herself like a double-jointed pretzel and pouted and posed her heart out, but still, it wasn’t enough.
“Roll in the sand!” Giovanni stopped shooting and pointed at Cindy.
“Sorry, what?” she asked.
“Stop looking so beautiful. It’s boring. So pedestrian. Like this.” And then he threw himself onto the hot, red sand and rolled. We all watched in jaw-dropping shock as he wiggled his body in the sand and then jumped up covered in the stuff.
“Such a creative genius,” I heard Angie mumble and turned. Was she kidding? What was with these people? The guy reminded me of one of those ridiculous artists that spray-painted bananas, hung them on a wall as conceptual art and tried to sell them to people for hundreds of thousands of dollars.
“Genius,” she whispered again sounding like she was in awe.
“And so hot,” Becks added quickly as they both watched him roll.
I tried to stifle a laugh as Ben looked over at me and gave a tiny headshake. This man was truly ridiculous. Cindy looked at him in total horror as she slowly dropped to her knees in the sand and started rubbing it on herself.
“Okay,” Ben jumped in stopping the circus, “Maybe it’s time for another break.” I glanced over at the client who looked disappointed, as if he was waiting for a half-naked model to roll on the ground like she was mud wrestling.
I walked away and pulled my phone out, this was way, way too good not to share with someone who would appreciate it. So I typed a message to JJ.
Sera: This photographer is a total nutcase. He’s trying to be all deep and angsty and artsy-fartsy and make the model roll around in the dirty sand so she won’t be so “beautiful”.
JJ: Oh God. He’s one of those.
Sera: According to him beauty is pedestrian.
JJ: Hahah. But is he hot? Those types usually are.
Sera: So hot!
As I was typing a suspicious head-shaped shadow fell over my hands.
“Who’s hot?” Ben’s voice startled me and I jumped in fright.
“Are you reading my messages now too?” I quickly put my phone behind my back.
“Not intentionally. I was coming to say ‘Hi’ and just happened to read it by accident.”
“Really? I doubt that,” I said trying to lock my phone screen behind my back.
“So who’s hot?” he asked with that devastating smile that causes your legs to start spreading automatically.
“I wasn’t talking about you, by the way. In case your giant ego thought that.” There must have been something in my tone that made that sound serious because Ben’s smile suddenly faltered and he looked at me curiously.
“Oh. I see.” He folded his arms. “So who do you think is so hot that you feel it necessary to message someone about it?”
“Uh … um, I …” I stumbled over my words as my mouth went dry, and it wasn’t from dehydration.
“Wow. It really is someone else.” Ben unfolded his arms and put them on his hips in a challenging fashion.
“Excuse me,” I said sarcastically, “it’s not like I’m not allowed to look at anyone else, I mean, you’re basically petting the hot model over there when she’s upset and batting her eye lashes.”
“Oh. So that’s what this is about?” He took a step closer to me and I backed away.
“No. This
isn’t about anything. It’s just, just … hey, what are you doing anyway? We agreed to keep this professional.”
Ben took a big step forward before I had a chance to move away. “Sera, how about we be completely fucking honest with each other, for once.” His voice took on a harsh quality and I’d never heard him use that tone before. “Let’s stop beating round the bush here and couching everything in unsubtle innuendos and sexting. Sure, it’s really fun, but at some stage we need to seriously face the facts.”
“Uh … what facts?” I asked, a knot of anxiety forming in the pit of my stomach.
“This,” he gestured to the space between us, “this couldn’t be professional if we tried. It crossed that line a long time ago when you were naked and coming on top of me in my car!”
“What?” My jaw fell open.
“Don’t act so surprised and shocked, it’s not like we haven’t said things like that to each other before. In fact, that’s part of the problem. One minute you’re telling me you won’t go out with me, and the next minute you’re kissing me.”
I looked around nervously, terrified that someone was going to overhear this conversation. “Stop talking like this!” I hissed angrily. “Not at work.”
“Why not at work? We have this kind of conversation just about everywhere else, like body corporate meetings and parking lots and—”
“Stop it!” I cut him off and then walked away as quickly as I could. I marched straight back to the craft tent and walked in to find the collarbone assaulter lying on the ground whispering something to himself. I turned and marched back out to find Ben standing there watching me. I huffed and turned and marched straight into the middle of the set and stopped at the car. I took my glasses off and whipped my forehead as the sweat ran down my face and into my eyes.
God, I must look like hell. I walked up to the car and looked at myself in the rear view mirror. My face was glistening with sweat and my cheeks were flushed red, not from the heat, but rather from what Ben had said to me. I moved my hair out my face, it was sticking to my moist skin and I had to shake my head to free it. Grains of bright red sand stuck to my skin and a dot of black mascara had deposited itself on the skin under my eye, probably due to the sweat. I looked up when I heard a clicking sound, only to find Giovanni taking a photo of me.
Why the hell was he taking photos of me?
35. She Is Not Stick …
I climbed out of the cool shower that I’d just had back in my room and read a text on my phone.
Ben: Did we just have our first fight?
I stared at the message for a moment or two, deciding what I should say back to him. It had felt like a fight, and I’d been feeling terrible since returning from the shoot. The idea that Ben and I were possibly no longer on friendly terms made my stomach twist and churn in the most unsettling way imaginable. I brought my fingers down to the phone and started typing.
Sera: I’m not sure. Did we?
Ben: IDK. But whatever it is, I feel terrible.
Sera: Me too.
Ben: I’m really sorry about what I said to you earlier. You were right, it was wrong, inappropriate and unprofessional. I also shouldn’t have been reading your messages. Feel free to hate me, but not for too long.
Sera: I’ll try not to.
Sera: Thanks for the apology tho. And I’m sorry I’m giving off mixed signals … but I’m confused.
Ben: I wish you weren’t.
Sera: Me too.
Ben: Are you coming for drinks and dinner?
Sera: Nah. Need sleep.
Ben: Can I come over? We can chat?
Sera: You need to show your face there tho. You’re the boss.
Ben: True.
Sera: See you tomorrow.
Ben: Okay, babe.
Sera: Babe?!?
Sera: Hahah!
Ben: Sweetheart?
Sera: LOL
Ben: Honey?
Sera: I’m rolling my eyes.
Sera: How about just Sera?
Ben: Because you’re no longer just Sera to me. You haven’t been JUST Sera to me for quite some time now.
Sera: You make it sound like you’ve known me for ages.
Ben: It feels like I have …
Ben: Come on, babe. Just go on a fucking date with me, please?
Sera: I’m still thinking about it.
Ben: You’re killing me here. You know that?
Sera: Sorry.
Ben: We’ve already had our first fight. Had sex, eaten together, gone to bloody body corporate meetings together, work together, travel together and practically live together now too … . Date???
I was just about to answer him when another message came through.
Ben: Gotta go. Bye. Talk later. X
I sighed and tossed my phone back onto my bed. Maybe I needed to draw up a pros and cons list as to why I should or shouldn’t date Ben? I was starting to feel like I wasn’t even sure what my reasons for not going out with him were anymore, we were spending so much time together already, what would be different … other than the sex and the possibility of love and heartbreak and potential financial ruin from lack of job when stuff fell apart? No big deal!
I needed sleep. We were leaving early the next morning for another location which was half way across the country and the soft bed was calling to me. I climbed in and was just about to close my eyes when a knock on the door interrupted me.
“Room service.”
I climbed out the bed feeling irritated by the disturbance. “I didn’t order room service,” I called out as I walked over to the door and swung it open.
“Are you not Sera De La Haye from room twelve?” he asked.
“Yes, but I didn’t order anything.”
“Well, someone did.” The guy pushed past me wheeling a massive trolley covered in silver cloches.
I walked over to one and opened it. Immediate salivation. A perfect fluffy-looking chocolate mousse stared up at me just waiting to be devoured. I opened the next one, chocolate cake. The next one, some chocolate tart thing, and so it went on until I had opened all six and was met with a chocolate feast.
I looked up at the guy. “How much is all this? I mean, I can’t pay for it.”
He smiled and shook his head, “Compliments of Mr. White.”
“Oh. I see.” The guy left the room and I tried to hold back a smile, even though no one was there to see it. I grabbed a spoon, plunged it into the mousse and scooped up as much as I could before shoveling it into my face. So not lady like! The dopamine in my brain screamed at me in delight and demanded more immediately. I scooped up a piece of cake next, dunking it into the mousse for the hell of it and because no one was there to see me. The sweetness made my mouth tingle. A beep on my phone stopped me from pouring the mousse onto the tart and adding the cake to it. I looked down at my bed.
Ben: Do you still hate me?
Sera: Moderately.
Ben: Come have a drink with me.
Sera: I don’t have drinks with people I moderately hate. ;)
Ben: I’ll just have to make you not hate me tomorrow then.
Sera: Good night, Ben.
I put my phone back down and climbed into bed again. This time there was no knocking on the door and I fell asleep easily.
“You missed some seriously crazy stuff last night,” Becks said to me as we all boarded a very tinny-looking propeller plane that seemed way too small for all of us to fit into and more importantly, way too outdated and archaic to be trusted in the sky.
“Oh, what happened?” I climbed in and realized I was right about not being able to fit. Crew were sitting with boxes of gear on their laps and the rest of the gear was lining the tiny aisle. I hoped this thing would be able to take off—especially since I was carrying a few extra pounds from last night’s chocolate binge! Ben was sitting in the back with his sunglasses on. Becks and I grabbed the nearest free seats and pulled our suitcases onto our laps.
Becks leaned in. “Well, everyone had way too much to
drink. Angie was hitting on Giovanni, hectically. And all he cared about was talking about how creatively stifled he felt and how Cindy was just basically ruining his life. Then Cindy got upset and started saying well maybe the problem lay with his photographs and not her and then he got mad and started freaking out and Ben had to separate them.”
“Really?” I tried to get comfortable in the little space I had as well as buckle my belt.
“Yes! And then Ben rushed Cindy off to ‘comfort’ her, and Angie stepped in to ‘comfort’ Giovanni … if you get what I mean.” She winked at me. Of course I got what she meant, that amount of air quotes in one sentence wasn’t exactly subtle. I glanced back at Ben and wondered just how much comforting had happened last night.
The plane took off and it was just about the worst, shakiest ride of my life and by the time we landed, everyone was clapping and hugging each other. I’d thought I was about to die at least twice during the flight. Because we were now rushing, we went straight to the next location without checking in to our hotel.
We all piled into SUVs and started making our way through the hot desert. It looked even more remote and barren than yesterday, that is until something came into view. Everyone seemed to gasp at the same time as the old, abandoned mansions that rose up out of the sand dunes came into view. We parked and all climbed out. I realized I was standing in a ghost town, it looked like it had been abandoned a hundred years ago and the desert sands had started swallowing the buildings. The houses were all old, windowless shells. What was left of a railway line ran through the town and an old upturned zinc bathtub lay half buried in the sand.
“It’s an old diamond town that was abandoned in the fifties,” Becks said to me, clearly she’d done her research.
“It’s beautiful,” I said, scanning the place, taking it all in.
“Just creepy if you ask me,” Becks said and walked off.
“It’s going to be perfect for the shoot, though,” I said, imagining the cars pulling up to the ghostly remains of the houses. Everything got going pretty quickly after that, and soon the huge trucks were bringing the cars in and Cindy was busy trying on clothing options. The awkwardness in the air was thick, and you could cut it with a knife.