Page 7 of Strut

Of course they were bloody thrilled. My brother, the golden child. I rolled my eyes. “That’s great, Mum. You deserve some fun. I’ve gotta go. They’re nearly ready for me.”

We said our goodbyes and I eyed a smirking Jolene in the mirror.

She tut-tutted. “Liar. They won’t be ready for you for ages.”

I groaned. “God will get me for it. I love my mum, but sometimes...”

Jolene patted my cheek. “Say no more.” She stepped back and flicked her fingers through my trimmed hair. “I hate to say it, but I think Kelvin was right. Shorter is definitely better. And I angled it a bit more through here.” She pulled the feathered ends forward over my cheekbones. “You like?”

I turned my head back and forth in the mirror and smiled. “I like. You’re a treasure.” I pushed up from the chair and bussed her cheek. “Thanks.”

She beamed as I slid from the chair and Hank took my place.

“If you’re done making the staff blush, get your ass over here so I can dress you.” Our wardrobe stylist waved me over to the rack of clothes he was fussing with. “Kelvin’s ears are starting to smoke.”

I smiled at Jolene. “And so it begins.”

CHAPTERTWO

Alec

For the first few hours,Kelvin’s focus was a series of group shots, utilising the massive multi-paned windows with their views over the Soho cityscape. Polyboards helped with the nightmare bounce of light and shadows, and although that wasn’t our problem, getting it right, along with changing around the other lighting sources, meant a lot of standing around. The foot-deep windowsills could take the three of us in various combinations of sitting and standing, and I could tell by the excitement in Kelvin’s voice as he barked out instructions that he was pleased with what he was getting.

Groups were always more difficult to shoot than solos. Every model needed to look perfect and the clothes needed to look perfect, exactly how the photographer wanted them at exactly the same time—an almost impossible task. But Kelvin was one of the best, and unlike some who posed their models and then asked you to hold that until they got what they wanted—aching muscles and frozen rictus be damned—Kelvin mixed that up with free posing and letting his models have some fun, trusting them to use their skills and see what came out of that. It was all about respect, even if the cowlick over Kelvin’s forehead had lost its flop along with some of his temper, due to the soaring temperature.

By the time we broke for lunch, I was pretty much grilled medium rare and in need of a complete makeup redo. The heat, the weightier fall designs, the furnace-worthy lighting and the barely adequate air conditioning had all taken their toll. So much for any downtime. I got a protein bar in my stomach, grabbed a bottle of water, and headed for the stylist’s chair.

After lunch it was time for my solo shoots, which were followed by more group shots. In Kelvin’s words, these were all about “movement, movement, movement.”

“Make itstreet,” he directed, meaning strong and natural with no swish.

Okaaaay. Movement, but without too much swish? Sounds easy, right? A couple of hours spent walking up and down, followed by jumping and falling backwards onto mattresses while subjected to fans angled to mimic the movement of wind through our hair proved the lie.Oh joy. The draught at least offered some welcome relief from the sweltering heat.

Eight hours, two aching feet, a throbbing headache, a million cells gasping in dehydration, half a deodorant stick, and several makeup changes later, I sagged with relief when Kelvin finally clapped his hands.

“That’s it, everyone.” He opened his arms in triumph. “I’m calling it a wrap. Thank you for your patience.”

The room erupted in applause and no small number of relieved groans, including mine. I quickly shucked the black thigh-length woollen coat I was wearing, then scrambled to remove the three different belts wound around my waist before hauling the white pleated shirt over my head and handing the whole pile to the wardrobe stylist who stood waiting with his arms out.

A few seconds later, I’d scrambled out of the too-small black leather shoes and the gorgeously snug silk-mix chocolate trousers as well. That done, I collapsed into the nearest chair in my black briefs and a pair of socks, guzzled the icy bottle of water Jolene pressed into my hand, and then ran the water-beaded surface over my forehead.

“Thank Christ that’s over,” I groaned under my breath and checked the clock on the wall.Fuck. I was gonna have to head straight to work and shower there.

“You did good.” Jolene patted my shoulder and handed me a wad of makeup removal pads, plus my T-shirt, which I dropped over my briefs. It wasn’t her job, but I loved her for it anyway.

“Thank you.” I beamed my best smile her way and she chuckled.

“Save your charm. I’m sold on you already.” She waved a hand over her shoulder as she walked back to her mirrors. “Shame about the gay thing.”

I laughed. “Get the right bits and you can have me, girl.”

That drew a hoot of laughter from Hank and even a chuckle from Terence, both looking just as exhausted as I was. They made their way past where I was sprawled to their bags on a bench along the far wall. I sat for a minute longer to draw breath, then cleaned the makeup from my face and ran fingers through my sticky hair. A fuckton of product had found its way there over the day.

Kelvin walked over, his blue eyes sparkling in the lights. “You were fantastic.” He clapped me on the shoulder like a proud dad. “I’m super impressed how you handled the last two days, Alec, considering you haven’t done a lot of this work yet. I have to say I was sceptical when Berlini put your name forward, but they were right.” Kelvin grinned. “They’ve got a new campaign coming up, you know that, right?”

I gave a brief nod.

“Well, I think you might have a good shot at it.”

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