Behind His Lens

by R.S. Grey

  Fucking Jude.

  “What if I don’t want to take this shoot, Janet? What if I’m not ready for my life to change?”

  “Charley. Let’s just say that this one shoot will give you plenty of time to lie low and paint. You’d be crazy to turn down the amount they’ll be paying you.” And her. She doesn’t say it, but I’d be the worst client ever if I turned down a commission that big for her. She’s a great agent and she deserves to have a pay off. I’ll deal with any new fame the way I handle everything else: by hiding away from it.

  As we hang up, there's one last piece of the puzzle nagging my mind and it has Jude written all over it.

  I look at my phone, scroll down to the “J’s” and hit send.

  Two slow rings later, his deep voice wraps around my senses.

  “Hello.” God, he says that word so alluringly I almost forget my anger. Almost.

  “Did you have something to do with me landing this freaking job?” I snap.

  He chuckles lightly, “Good morning, Charley. You sound radiant.”

  God I want him. No! Damnit.

  “Jude! What the hell? Did I book this job because of you or because they actually wanted me?”

  He pauses and I rub my hand anxiously along my hairline.

  “They had originally booked Candace Hill, but she is injured and they needed a replacement. I mentioned your name to Ryan, yes. However, he chose you on his own accord. You should have been on the list, I just expedited the process.”

  “Damnit, Jude!”

  “You sound even sexier when you’re angry. Maybe I should piss you off more…”

  “I hate you. This isn’t a game!”

  A sexy chuckle spills through the phone.

  “Don’t forget to pack a few bikinis, Charley. The weather is warm in Hawaii and we’ll be staying in a hotel on the water.”

  With that, the line goes dead and I hurl my phone against the pillows on my bed. That bastard. This is a perfect example of why we shouldn’t be in a relationship. The last thing I need to be worrying about is whether or not people in the industry assume I’m sleeping around to get jobs.

  …

  As the week drags slowly on, it begins to sink in just how much my life will change after this shoot. This magazine hits every newsstand across the nation and there’s not a heterosexual male who doesn’t own a copy the day it goes on sale. Am I ready for this? What if the world finds out who I truly am? Will my alias hold up? It’s too late to change my mind. I’ll just have to hope for the best and be ready for the consequences. I’ve gone into hiding once, and I can do it again.

  Janet told me that all of the models and crew are meeting in New York and a private jet will be taking all of us to Hawaii. It’s easier to coordinate if Ryan knows that everyone is safe and sound. The last thing he needs is a delayed flight and a missing model. I haven’t been on a private jet in years, since before my father’s charges were announced, but I’m excited to experience it again. As long as I can avoid Jude and whichever model he decides to replace me with. He said he didn’t date models, but we quasi-dated so that can’t be true. God, it kills me to think of him with another girl, but I keep reminding myself that that’s insane. We’ve known each other for one week. That’s not enough time to hand someone your heart. No, I’ve only handed him a few pieces. Pieces I wish I could take back and protect under lock and key again.

  Throughout the week, most of my free hours have been spent preparing for the trip. I’ve nabbed a few sundresses and light scarves, a new pair of flat, strappy sandals for walking on the beach, and some travel-sized bathroom essentials.

  By Thursday night I feel confident with my packing progress, so I decide to meet Naomi and Bennett for an early dinner. I have to be at the airport at six in the morning because the flight is scheduled for an ungodly eleven hours, but fortunately we don’t start shooting until Saturday. Hopefully I’ll be able to catch up on some sleep during the flight.

  Pushing open the heavy oak door, the scent from the oven-baking pizza stirs memories of forgotten hunger. Pizza was my favorite food growing up and sometimes the aroma carries me back to simpler times. Today, I’m hoping that will be the case. I’ve been running even more this week, and if anything, I should gain a pound or two before the shoot. My jeans feel less snug than they usually do.

  I’m sure people assume I’m thin from the pressures of the modeling world, but my problem stems from my lack of appetite and general over-thought. Like today for instance, I was too busy running errands and packing. The only thing I’ve had to eat was a protein bar this morning. It’s hard to remember to eat when you’re never hungry.

  Oh well, Naomi chose my favorite food for a reason. She knows I’m nervous about the shoot and am in desperate need of a proper meal. When I scan the restaurant, relief washes over me as I spot her and Bennett sitting in a booth along the side wall. I didn’t think they’d lie to me, but a part of me figured Jude might have tagged along without me knowing. I’ll see him bright and early tomorrow morning, but I need another few hours to build my strength before I have to look into those gorgeous blue eyes again.

  “Hey guys.” I smile and slide into the bench across from them. The two little lovebirds are squeezed together on one side of the booth. Their hands rest between them on the table, locked in a sweet display of affection. Should I be looking for a bridesmaid’s dress soon?

  “There she is!” Naomi sings, pulling my attention away from their entwined hands.

  Bennett casts me a wide smile. “Will we even get to hangout with you when you’re rich and famous?”

  I blush and tug a hand through my hair. “Oh, be quiet. You know I’m going to hide out as much as possible.”

  He laughs. “It’s strange that a girl like you would get into such a public profession.”

  I nod because he’s right, but there’s more to it than that. “Yeah, well, if you saw the paycheck you might not think that. I’m essentially selling my soul and my right for privacy for a burlap sack with a money sign on it.”

  “Ah,” he waggles his eyebrows, making us laugh.

  A beat later, my eyes fall on Bennett’s tailored suit and Naomi’s gorgeous ivory wrap dress. Suddenly I feel way under-dressed in my slouchy jeans and knitted sweater, even if they are designer.

  “Did you guys come straight from work?”

  “Yeah,” they say in unison, and then smile lovingly toward one another as if they’re straight out of a 1950s afternoon special.

  “Do you have to hide the relationship while you’re there, or does it not matter since you two are in different departments?” I ask, curious about how their relationship pans out during the work day. What would it be like to work with Jude? I can’t imagine my days would be very productive. I’d be on edge the whole day, wondering when he would turn the corner and find me daydreaming about him, drooling like a sap at my desk.

  Bennett sighs, “We haven’t disclosed it with H.R. yet, but we should soon.”

  “Oh, yeah, we should,” Naomi agrees, dropping her gaze. It’s a strange reaction, but I’ll let it slide for now. Maybe they’ve been avoiding discussing the topic. I’d imagine it’s a big step to make their relationship public at work. It puts more pressure on the situation and they probably don’t want to be the topic of workplace gossip.

  I clear my throat, “Do you guys already know what you want?”

  “We were thinking of just splitting a large pizza. We need to fatten you up!” Naomi laughs, and I’m glad to see her light mood again.

  “Ha-ha. Sadly that’s true. I’ve been too nervous to eat this week. I’ve never done a cover shoot before.”

  “You’ll be great; don’t worry about it, Charley,” Naomi states confidently.

  I nod and drag my eyes down the menu, reading over all of the topping options.

  “I’m good with whatever you guys want, as long as it has pepperoni,” I decide, dropping the menu back onto the table and reaching for my water. I squeeze the lemon into the
glass and swirl it around until the bitter citrus has dispersed completely.

  When the waitress comes around, Bennett orders our large pizza with olives, mushrooms, spinach, and pepperoni. Just hearing him describe the ingredients makes my mouth salivate like one of Pavlov’s dogs.

  But the second the waitress leaves, Naomi steeples her fingers and studies me with an air of concentration. The mood around the table instantly shifts from friendly dinner to shits-about-to-get-real. When I glance between them, it’s clear I’m about to be subjected to an intervention of sorts.

  “Are you nervous that Jude will be in Hawaii as well?” Naomi asks candidly, keeping her razor sharp gaze on me.

  “Naomi…” I warn, not really wanting to discuss everything in front of Bennett. He’s hardly an unbiased third party.

  “Hey, don’t worry about me,” he offers, as if realizing his awkward position. “It’s not like I haven’t had to listen to Jude rambling on about you for the past two weeks.”

  “What?” I ask before I think better of it. “No, wait. It doesn’t matter.”

  “Charley, he’s obviously crazy about you,” Naomi offers gently.

  “Yeah, well I’m not happy about his involvement with the casting of the shoot. It feels slimy and I hate having to second-guess my reasons for being hired. Those models are going to be the most gorgeous women in the world and they’re going to judge the fact that I was given the cover.”

  “Don’t let them bother you,” Naomi advises, “remember you’re absolutely gorgeous, and yes, Jude might have introduced you to Ryan, but Ryan wouldn’t have agreed with Jude if you weren’t perfect. Why would he have? It’s his name that’s at stake if people don’t like his cover.”

  “Maybe he owed Jude a favor…” My insecurities rear their ugly head, and then I bite back my words. “Whatever. I’m going to avoid him at all cost. He can party with the other models. I’ll focus on the shoot and soaking up as much sun as I can. It’ll be fine.”

  Bennett bites his lip and I know he’s fighting an internal battle about whether he should speak up or not. When his mouth opens a moment later, I take a deep breath, preparing for his testimony.

  “Charley, I don’t think you should write Jude off just yet. He was being honest when he said he never dates models; you’re the first he’s ever cared to get to know. His dating habits weren’t completely wholesome in the past,” my stomach twists in knots thinking about Jude with women before me, “but he’s different around you.” He pauses and then decides to continue on, “And there are things in his past that pushed him toward that way of life. They aren’t my stories to tell, but there’s more to Jude than what you see on the surface.”

  Damnit Bennett. Damnit. Damnit.

  I don’t want to hear all of this. I want Bennett’s eyes to hold less sincerity, less honesty. I know he’s telling me the truth, and as hard as I try to reinforce the walls around my heart, already I feel another small piece breaking apart for Jude. For this man that might have as many demons as I do.

  Wiping my hand down my cheek in defeat, I sigh and meet his eyes. “Can I promise that I’ll take your words to heart if we stop talking about him for the rest of dinner?”

  My stomach is coiled into a tight knot and I just want to relax and eat some pizza.

  Naomi reaches across the table and grabs my hand.

  Looking into my eyes, she offers me a hopeful look. “I’m really excited for you. This is a good step. You deserve it; don’t let your past ruin it for you.”

  CHAPTER TWELVE

  Jude

  The private airplane hangar is buzzing with activity even though it’s hardly half past five in the morning. The world was silent on the cab ride over, but here, everyone’s grabbing coffee and securing their luggage and carry-ons. I sigh, reclining back in the soft leather chair as my assistants confirm that all of our equipment is accounted for. It’s cold in the lobby so I tug on my leather jacket, reminding myself that soon I’ll be in Hawaii and away from the cold for three days. Perfect.

  A stout, middle-aged flight attendant, dressed head-to-toe in navy blue, announces that we can begin to board the plane while we wait for the rest of the passengers. Leaning down to grab my luggage, I recheck my phone, trying to stall a moment longer because Charley hasn’t arrived yet. I almost called her yesterday to insist that she let me pick her up, or at least hire a car service for her, but I ended up deciding against it. When we talked on the phone about the shoot she told me she “hated me,” and although I know those words couldn’t be farther from the truth, I wanted to give her some space.

  I don’t regret offering her name to Ryan. She should have booked the cover over Candace to begin with, and I’m glad everything worked out in the end. She can be angry with me all she wants. Hell, it’s a turn on anyway. I smile wickedly thinking of her sexy voice during our phone conversation.

  The stout flight attendant props open a pair of sleek glass doors that lead out onto the runway. Everyone begins filing past me, heading into the foggy, dark air to begin loading their luggage. I hang back for another moment, hoping Charley will appear. A few minutes pass. Nearly everyone has filtered out of the lobby and there’s still no sign of her, so I decide to board and save two seats.

  The cabin of the private jet is luxurious, with light brown leather seats lining a long aisle in pairs. Thankfully the rows aren’t crammed together. There’s enough room to recline fully so that the chairs form makeshift beds. I claim a row in the back of the plane, tossing my carry-on bag onto the window seat to save it for her. If I had to guess, I’d assume Charley would want the opportunity to glance out the window. The thought makes me narrow my eyes toward the front of my plane in search of her.

  All I see is a flurry of glimmering hair in varying colors as the other models flounce around the plane. I recognize most of them from the casting process or from previous photo shoots. I don’t think I’ve actually held a real conversation with any of them, though it’s not from their lack of perseverance. The moment I take my seat, a few of them hop up and make their way to toward my row like piranhas.

  “Morning, Jude,” a pretty redhead sings as she angles her body toward me. I have to fight the urge to pull out my phone and ignore her greeting all together. Don’t feel bad for her. I’ve seen her jump from bed to bed on every shoot we’ve worked on together. She’s not interested in the “morning”; she’s interested in having a quickie in the plane’s restroom. The girls keep talking but their words filter through the air unheard, as if my ears don’t recognize the frequency in which they speak. I nod and offer simple greetings, but it’s impossible to ignore their lingering gazes. A few of them even glance at my carry-on bag on the vacant seat, but I smile civilly and cut the conversations short. The last thing I need is for Charley to board right as one of them is trying to sink their claws into me. I don’t need any more cards stacked against me when it comes to her.

  They eventually wander off, and as the plane continues to fill, I smirk, pleased with myself for not ordering that car service after all. If I had, Charley would have been here ten minutes ago and she could have picked a seat anywhere on board. Now there are fewer spots available and the odds that she’ll have to sit by me are looking better and better.

  That is until I see Ryan board the plane a moment later with Charley in tow. Motherfucker. She’s tilting her head back and smiling up at him; a perfectly beautiful smile, except it’s aimed at the wrong person. Ryan’s assistant, who boarded right after them, taps him on the shoulder and mutters something in his ear. He nods, taking out his cell phone, leaving Charley to wave goodbye and look up toward the aisle of the plane.

  Her blue eyes find me and I watch her swallow slowly. She hovers in the middle of the aisle, frozen, until she realizes that she’s blocking everyone’s path. She blushes and murmurs an apology before hiking her bag higher on her shoulder and starting to walk toward the back of the plane, directly to me.

  I stand as she approaches, taking in her sexy jeans
and tight white, long-sleeved shirt.

  “Morning.” I try to keep the smile off my lips, I really do, but I still feel the ends of my mouth curling up.

  She narrows her eyes sharply in response and I know I’m not in the clear yet. I gesture over to the window. “I saved you a seat.”

  Twisting her head around, she takes in her other options. Most of the crew has paired off and a few of the models are chatting casually. Ryan’s sitting with his assistant, which leaves Charley to choose between sitting by me or the chubby lighting director.

  “But if you’d rather…” I goad, leaning in so that my breath tingles across her skin.

  She rolls her eyes and brushes past me to get to the seat. I thought she was sexy on the phone, but seeing her pissed in real life feels like a wicked challenge I can’t wait to take on. Her butt brushes against my thigh, barely grazing the front of my pants. I inhale and clench my fist. Surely she didn’t do that on purpose, or she’s playing much dirtier than I was expecting.

  I grab my carry-on bag and shove it under my seat as she sits down and gets comfortable. I can smell vanilla lingering in the air she just occupied, and I wonder if that’s the scent she chooses for body wash as well as lip gloss. I’m still fixated on that thought when she leans in, whispering so quietly that no one else can hear. “I don’t hate you.”

  The words aren’t what stir my heart; it’s the tone she uses, as if she were murmuring sweet nothings into my ear instead of a white flag. I lick my lips, needing to adjust myself so I can sit more comfortably, but I don’t want to give her the satisfaction. The past few weeks have been hell. I can’t remember the last time I’ve gone this long without sex. I feel like I’ve reverted back to a fourteen-year-old. The slightest touch from Charley and I’m a fucking goner.

  Eyeing her out of the corner of my gaze, I see a slight smile gracing her lips. I don’t know how long she’ll be like this: open and receptive, but I’ll take it slow. Bennett told me about their conversation last night; I know I’m walking a thin line with her and I’ll be damned if I step over the edge until she’s good and ready.