Page 9 of The Parkers' Handsome Holiday
Before it all fell apart.
Before it was just me and Asher.
I sighed and picked up the frame. I pressed my thumb to her face. Beautiful. In the picture, she had her hands wrapped around my arm. We were sitting on a blanket in one of those gray, sterile, boring photography studios because my wife had insisted on us getting a family portrait. Asher was only ten months old in the picture. He was sitting propped up in her lap, bawling his eyes out. His face was bright red, his mouth was wide open, and his two bottom teeth had started coming in and were on display for the photographer. She was smiling up at me.
My eyes were closed.
It was a real, true, disaster of a mess. But it was my family when we were whole and when we were all together.
I ran my thumb over her face. “He likes strawberry jam on his toast now, babe. He’s becoming more and more like you every day.”
4
LINA
Joseph Rickman, Joe for short, had an office the size of my living room and a beer belly that could rival all dad-bods this side of North America. His gut protruded over his belt the same way his moustache did over his lips. He wasn’t a particularly attractive man, but he was a sharp dresser, and that lent him the appearance of importance.
And he was important. He was and had been my agent for the last four years.
Joe motioned for me to take a seat in the high-back green velvet chair across his desk from him. I sat, crossed one leg over the other, and lifted my chin to make sure my posture was exceptional.
“Your week is pretty booked, Lina, but this is good. Business is picking up for you. All the powerhouses are recognizing your beauty, and a shoot like the one today is going to turn heads. Trust me. I think this might be your breakthrough, baby.”
Joe had been calling me “baby” since the first time I stepped into this office, wide eyed, full of wonder and excitement, and completely naive to what the world of modeling would actually be like.
Lonely. Materialistic. Unfulfilling.
I rubbed my hands down my thighs. “Do you think there’s room in the schedule to take some time away? I’d like to have a couple days off around Christmas.”
“Baby, rest is for people who don’t succeed. And you want to succeed in this business, don’t you?”
“Of course, but—”
“Then you have to keep that hustle going,” he said. “I believe in you, but people won’t know who you are unless you constantly show up on magazines and billboards and cover photos. These promotional ads are doing wonders for your popularity. If you back off now, you’re stepping aside to let some other girl steal your spotlight. Is that what you want?”
I shook my head. “No, but I didn’t think taking a few days off over the holidays was asking so much.”
“Everyone takes time off over the holidays. That’s your chance to get the jump on them.”
I bit the inside of my cheek. “How much time are you taking off, Joe?”
He blinked at me but said nothing.
“A week? Ten days?”
He held up his hands defensively. “I’m not the model, Lina. You are. I pull the strings. Book the shoots. Put you in front of the right people. I don’t have to work twenty-four seven to remain relevant.”
Everything he was saying made perfect logical sense, but it still sucked. All I wanted was some time to myself where I didn’t have to wear the world’s tightest dress or most uncomfortable shoes. I could just be me, wrapped up under a warm blanket with a cup of coffee, reading a good book in front of my fireplace.
But that would have to wait. Maybe next year.
Joe sighed and leaned back in his chair, which creaked beneath his weight. “Is this not what you want to do anymore, Lina?”
“I’m not saying that.”
He shrugged. “It sounds to me like you’re experiencing some doubt. That’s normal. We can talk about it.”
I felt my shoulders drawing inward a bit and forced myself to sit up straight once more. “I just sometimes wonder if I’m meant to do this. I mean, I have a degree in mass communications that I never used. All because some guy outside the campus library handed me a business card and invited me to an audition.”
