Page 23 of No Place Like You

“I’ll open a new checking account. I don’t even give a shit at this point.”

“It should be illegal to make us work outside on a day like this,” Elaine adds. “And on a Saturday. For shame.”

I laugh. “At least it’s a short day. Hopefully we’ll be out of here early.”

There are four models lined up against the brick wall between two buildings. Messy graffiti and an overflowing dumpster sit at one end, and I can’t decide if the stench of garbage or the image of a penis—aggressively spewing semen—adds to the edginess of this titillating shoot, or if it’s the mixture of army print pants and black military boots.

I have my thick camera strap draped over my neck, most likely collecting sweat. After a few more shots, the models are instructed to step aside, making room for individual shots. I’m watching the three waiting for their turn, standing in the shade where a large industrial fan sits. They’re crowdingaround it, taking small sips of water while attempting to cool down in the heat. One of them, a male model dressed in a black tank top, army print pants, and clunky black boots, plops himself on a folding chair, leaning back while emptying the rest of his water bottle. The light beams down just enough to cover the lower half of his body in the shade, the rest of him still in the sun. And the sweat already coating his bare arms and neck gives off a shiny sheen.

“Uh, Sebastian, right?” I ask, approaching him.

“Seb.”

I smile a tight-lipped smile. “Right,” I answer. “Do you think you could sit forward? Rest your elbows on your knees?”

He does as I say, ducking his head down while leaning toward me. “Like this?”

“Yeah,” I say, lifting my camera in front of me. “And look up and sort of square your shoulders.”

He follows my instructions without hesitation, something he’s probably learned over time as a seasoned catalog model, and I take a step backward, including the colorful graffiti while making sure to leave out the phallic image painted in bright yellow. “Move your right foot about two inches forward. Yeah. Just like that.”

My camera clicks. At this angle, only his face sits in the light, but for some reason, it makes the clothes on him stand out more. “Now relax your face. Drop your eyebrows. Almost like you’re bored.”

“What are you doing?” I glance to my side, my finger never leaving the shutter button while moving around Seb. Elaine is hovering over me, her observant gaze taking in the model as his eyes track my steps.

“Just…playing around. Seeing if I can get something good. Ryan said we could before we came out here, and Kyle’s been asking us for input for each shoot, so maybe I can find something here.”

“Seb!” All of our heads jerk toward Kyle, where his set sits sans model. I’m guessing it’s Seb’s turn because he stands from his spot and saunters over to where Kyle is.

“Thanks, Seb!” I call after him. He gives a small bow along with a flirty smile before he approaches Kyle. Kyle, on the other hand, keeps his eyes on me where I was playing around with Seb’s look and the makeshift set in front of me. He takes a few moments before he leaves his camera sitting on a tripod and walks over to me.

“Did you get some shots of Seb in?” he asks brusquely.

“Uh, yes,” I answer. “Ryan said we can experiment with some shoot ideas as long as the models aren’t tied up with you.”

“Can I see them?”

I glance quickly at Elaine, whose eyes are wide and just as nervous looking as mine. I remove the strap from my neck and hand my camera over to Kyle. He stares down at the small display screen, his thumb pressing the buttons to scroll through my most recent images.

He doesn’t say anything. Not even a nod of approval or a disparaging scowl. Instead, the stone-like expression on his face remains the same, emotionless and uninterested. He gets to the last of the pictures, where he accidentally clicks too far ahead and lands on a picture of Jeremy sleeping, and hands my camera back to me. I, of course, cringe from embarrassment. Did he really have to see the picture of Jeremy cuddling my Winnie the Pooh sock?

“Hmm,” he mumbles with that flat effect on his face, making him look bored. “Have those edited by Monday morning and send them to me.”

“Sure.”

He gives a curt nod and walks back to his camera. He starts positioning Seb how he wants, a hand against the brick wall, his head thrown back toward the sky, but it almost feels like I’m watching it happen from another dimension.

“He just asked you to send him your pictures,” Elaine whispers.

“I know,” I respond softly.

“And he didn’t tell you they look like an ad for Lipitor inThe American Journal of Medicine.”

I shoot a look of confusion in Elaine’s direction.

She shrugs. “My parents have high cholesterol.” I laugh, but Elaine’s face doesn’t change. “Lucy! This is huge!”

“Shh,” I hiss, peering around at the other interns and staff members. “He just wants me to edit them. It doesn’t mean anything.”

---