Rocco frowned, looked around, and then walked over to Dario and Celeste.
“Was he taking photos?”
Celeste looked at him as though he had a cabbage between his ears instead of a brain.
“Duh.”
Rocco looked at Dario.
“Dar?”
“Yeah,” Dario said. “That’s what we’re here for.”
“Yeah, but why didn’t he say something? I didn’t know he was taking photos.”
Celeste grinned. “All the better. It didn’t give you the chance to look like you were getting a rectal exam.”
“Okay,” said the photographer, coming over. “Let’s do this!”
When Rocco didn’t move, Celeste waved her hand at him.
“Go on.”
Rocco stormed back to the car where Nico was still standing, clearly stewing with her arms crossed.
He crossed his arms as well and leaned back on the car.
“Nico,” the photographer said, “lean against the car like Rocco.” He paused. “Okay but move closer. Rocco, what are you doing? Don’t move away. You’re already too far apart.”
Rocco inched right.
“Still too far.”
He inched again.
Exasperated, the photographer snapped his fingers. His assistant came over and pushed Rocco until he stumbled into Nico.
“Sorry,” he muttered.
“Humph.”
After taking only three shots, the photographer sighed. “We’re back to this again? You’re both so stiff.”
“I have an idea,” Celeste said. “Come on, Dario.”
She dragged him over to the car and placed him alongside Nico, pulling Rocco away.
“The magazine doesn’t want photos of me,” Dario insisted.
“I know. They’re not going to use any of them. Just be yourself. Tell Nico a joke or just chat. So Rocco can see what he should be doing and maybe he’ll loosen up.”
“It’s not just me,” Rocco muttered to Celeste.
She waved her hand. “Shush.”
The photographer began taking shots.
“Oh, man,” Celeste cried, “these are going to be great!”
