“You wanted to see me?” I ask, running my hand through my hair in an attempt to cover the hickey.
“I do,” she says while cutting wheat grass with a tiny pair of scissors. “Sit, please.”
I do as she asks, mostly because I am afraid of what will happen if I don’t. For a moment, she’s quiet, other than the sound of her blending together her breakfast in a cup. I start to wonder if she’s forgotten I am here until finally she speaks again. “Concealer works better, you know.”
“I’m sorry?” I ask, and Deborah turns around.
“To cover up hickeys. Concealer works better because it counters the bluish-black pigment of under-eye bags and makes the skin look brighter. Hickies have a surprisingly similar hue,” she says with an unamused smile.
“Right,” I nod, clearing my throat.
“Oh, don’t look so worried. I think this is great,” she says, and my eyes flash up to meet hers.
“You do?” I ask.
“Absolutely,” she says as she sits down in front of me on the other side of her desk. “From the looks of it, you two are getting close.”
“Oh, I don’t know about that,” I shake my head. But Deborah just stares at me before clicking her tongue.
“The way I see it, Ashlyn, nothing but good things can come from this.”
“I guess I don’t understand,” I tell her. Deborah answers by reaching under her desk and pulling out a camera box. She sets it down in front of me, and I stare at it before looking back at her, even more confused than before.
Deborah laces her fingers together and rests her hands on the desk. “Ashlyn. You have an opportunity in front of you.”
“Is that…are you giving me a new camera?”
“You can use that camera, yes,” she answers, and now that I feel like I have permission to touch it, I pop the box open and pull it out. It’s even fancier than the one I had before, and I feel like a kid on Christmas. “To take photos…”
“Of course,” I say with a giddy laugh.
“Of Zane Calloway,” she adds, and I nod.
“I’ll take photos of any model you want,”
“In his home.”
With that, I stop, my eyes flashing up to her. Slowly, I set the camera back down.
“Is something the matter?” she asks sharply.
“No. It’s just…” I grapple with the words I don’t want to say but feel like I must.
“Well, spit it out, girl, I don’t have all day,” she presses.
“It’s just that I don’t think Zane would be too fond of the idea of me taking photos of him around the house,” I explain. In fact, I am pretty sure he’d be pissed. And God knows what happens when he’s pissed. Cameras get busted. The very thought of anything happening to this one makes my stomach turn.
“So don’t tell him,” she says casually as she sips her smoothie.
“You mean…take candid photos?” I ask.
The tiniest hint of amusement plays in the corner of her lips. “Yes. You know, do the thing I pay you to do.”
“I don’t think I can do that,” I say, and I almost surprise myself.
“What do you mean?” she asks coldly.
“It’s one thing to sneak around yards and hide in shadows and behind bushes for photo ops. But I live in his home now. I’m his…we’re dating. And I just don’t think it would be right to go behind his–”
