Page 32 of My Charming Rival (Stars In Their Eyes 1)
Love ya,
B
I tapped out a reply: As always, I am thrilled that you have succumbed to the joy of silly meme humor. Perhaps next time you really want to freak out Mom, suggest Abercrombie & Fitch for boys and Laverne & Shirley for girls. I’ll let you know if I can hear her screams of mortification from my apartment.
Love ya, too,
J
I answered a few more emails, including one from Jillian in which she’d confirmed the time for the shoot on Friday then added a “warning”: But do not whatsoever let on that I was checking out Jones. OK? It would be totally forbidden if anything were to happen, and besides nothing is happening!
I replied: I’m a vault. You know I’m a vault. Also, a forbidden romance sounds delicious.
As I contemplated such romantic entanglements, my phone rang. I didn’t recognize the number and for a brief moment I hoped it was William, but then I remembered he was listed as HBG.
“Hello?”
“Hi, I’m looking for Jess Leighton.” The caller was confident, young, and accent-free. Bummer.
“This is Jess.”
“I’m Keats Wharton. I just recently started up a photo agency and I am suitably impressed with your work.”
“Suitably impressed. Not a bad adverb to throw around. But how do you know my work, Keats?” I didn’t try to hide and I’d been solicited for freelance gigs before, but I liked to know how the purveyors of said freelance work found me.
“It’s my job to know who the best shooters in town are, and you’ve gotten some impressive shots. Those pictures of Nick Ballast when he turned a bit portly were epic.” There it was again—the series that had earned me nearly half of the money in my medical school fund. Even so, the totality of the balance wouldn’t even cover one semester. “I also appreciated your series on Shelley Mari wearing tight shirts and yoga pants a day after her baby bump rumor. You were the first to debunk the possibility that she was pregnant,” he said, referring to a picture I’d snagged of the bluesy singer heading to The Getty while wearing the slinkiest of slinky outfits a few weeks ago.
“I enjoy a good photographic debunking as much as the next person,” I said, and then waited for Keats to get down to details, though I was delighted that he was familiar with my oeuvre beyond my best known work.
“I have a special assignment for you.”
“What is it?”
“I don’t really want to talk about it over the phone. I’d rather get together in person and give you the details. But it’s a relatively easy shoot,” he said.
“Relatively easy is never actually easy. But then again, this job isn’t easy.”
“Would you be able to meet tomorrow?”
“I don’t know,” I said, and kicked my feet up on the table. He couldn’t see me, but it was a power pose, and I felt I needed power. Besides, this was how a titan in business and world affairs would position himself during a pivotal phone call scene in a movie. I tilted the chair legs back slightly.
“I’ll pay you half up front. It’s a ten thousand dollar job if you can get the picture.”
The chair wobbled with my enthusiasm. I grabbed the edge of the table and righted myself before I cracked my head on the floor. “What type of shot? Don’t tell me it’s a wedding shot because those go for more. A lot more.”
“It’s a hookup shot. And I’ll have a location for you. Can we meet tomorrow morning to discuss?”
“Yes. But what’s the name of your agency?”
“A Thousand Words,” he said and I typed it into my browser and called up his website. He had several decent shots of celebrities on there.
“Fine. I can meet you at seven thirty at the Coffee Bean,” I said, and I gave him the location nearest my apartment.
“You’re an early bird,” Keats said admiringly.
“And since I can catch worms, I assume that’s why you’re hiring me.”
When he hung up, I pictured ten thousand dollars dancing in front of me. Then I pictured eating a few bites of chocolate cake and actually enjoying it. Keeping up the reel of happy images, I pictured William kissing me. Then I pictured him kissing my belly. Then I pictured him kissing my…
I stopped my reverie when the phone buzzed again. I clicked it open.
HBG: Just in case you were wondering, I still have red toes tonight, and I’ll still have them tomorrow.
There it was again. The zoom. The spark. The shivers. My body lit up as I thought about seeing him. My stomach somersaulted with the possibility of another kiss.
Evidently, the ice water trick had no lasting effects. Because I quickly replied: Will need verification, then.
Which was a terribly dangerous thing to say since it meant I wanted to see him tomorrow. But I did, oh how I did.
