Page 131 of Riot Act
Savage Love.
Raw and Powerful, Callan Cross’s epic Art Wins Again.
This time, America’s most controversial Photographer scoops himself the Hasselblad.
“TheHasselblad?” I whisper.
Dash props himself against my doorjamb. “You’re gonna have to forgive my complete ignorance when it comes to photography, but what the hell is a Hasselblad when it’s at home?”
“It’s the most prestigious award a photographer can ever attain. A lifetime achievement award,” Wren says, yawning. I’m surprised he knows this. “But it’s never been awarded off the back of one fucking photo before.” Squinting, at my naked form on the cover—all ink, bruises, and attitude—he continues. “And he won it off the back of Pax’s flaccid dick.”
I hear him speak. I keep my mouth shut about the dick comment, though. I’m reading.“Callan Cross began his career with a photo of violence. His then-high school sweetheart, Coralie, posed in private after being severely beaten by her father. The photograph depicted Coralie with a number of horrific injuries. Cross submitted the image to competitions, not expecting anything to come from it, but the image immediately swept the nation, featuring on the cover of a number of publications, as well as heavily dominating the Art and Culture sections of nearly every prominent newspaper at the time. Since then, Cross has made a name for himself as a photographer with an axe to grind. Many of his exhibitions have featured stirring political statement pieces that have caused controversy and polarized the art community…”
It goes on and on. I drop the magazine, reeling a little. “Who’s got a cigarette?”
Wren gives me one. I smoke it, finishing his coffee, staring at the sight of myself, naked on the front of the Kingston’s Photography Journal.
“Thisisthe same guy you’re going to work for, right?” Dash says.
“Yeah.”
“The one you’re moving to Virginia for?”
I nod.
“People are definitely going to recognize you when you show up to shoot with him now,” Wren says.
They were going to recognize me, anyway. What with so many advertising campaigns under my belt, and my face being plastered all over the papers in New York for thrashing Jonah, I have a very recognizable face at the moment. Now, I’ll have a very recognizable dick, too.
“Goddamnit.” I groan, rubbing my fingers into my eyes.
“What?” Wren bites back a smirk. “I thought you’d be kinda stoked about the front cover of a photography journal. And Iknowyou don’t care about the whole world seeing your shit. You strut around with your dick swinging free all the time.”
Typical timing. Seriously. I breathe, trying to convince myself that this isn’t a complete nightmare, but it’s no good. Itisa complete nightmare. I let my hands drop, taking another look at the journal, hoping it won’t be as bad the second time, but there’s no denying it. My dick and balls are right there for everyone to see. They even layered the image, so I’m standing in front of the journal’s title and the strapline and none of my junk would be obscured by text.
“Chase’s dad is gonna see this today,” I sigh.
“And?” Dash doesn’t understand: I’ve never been the kind of guy who’d give a shit about a girl’s parents. His confusion is justified. But today, I need to make a good impression. I really need for Robert Wittonnotto hate me today. Warily reaching into my pocket, I take out the small black velvet box that I snuck into the dark room to retrieve, setting it down on the glass top table in front of me next to the copy of Kingston’s.
Dash and Wren go very, very still. Wren inhales sharply through his nose. “What the hell isthat, Pax Davis?”
“You know damn well what it is,” I grumble. “And I asked her dad to meet me this afternoon, so I could—”
“You’re gonna ask him forpermission?” Dash crows.
“Urgh. Don’t.” I will legitkillhim if he makes this any more uncomfortable than it already is.
Wren’s still staring at the box like it’s a snake that might bite him. “Open it,” he commands.
“No.”
“Fuck that.” Dash lunges, snatching the little jewelry box before I can stop him. “You’re not slapping that thing down on the table and then not showing us what’s inside.”
I want to bare my teeth and snarl at him, but…fuck it. It’s too late now. He has the damn box open and he’s frowning, showing the contents inside to Wren. Both of them look perplexed. “Uhhh…d’you need to borrow some money, dude?” Dash asks.
“Yeah. What the fuck isthissupposed to be?” Wren takes the little woven gold band out of the box, holding it up disdainfully. “I hate to break it to you, but most girls like diamonds. And this piece of ratty thread hasglueon it.”
I grab it from him, putting it back in the box. “Fuck off, asshole.”
