AllFreeNovel
Share Us
His eyes open as if coming out of a dream, and he turns to me. “You stopped?”
The words sit on my tongue—our hour is up—but I can’t say them. Maybe it’s because I don’t have any clients after him and I’m reasoning whether we have to stop at all. I could shoot him the rest of the night if he’d let me. I could shoot him until the sun rises the next day.
I’ve never felt this inspired. I’ve never felt this alive. I’ve never felt this willing to do anything to achieve just one step further than the perfection we have already found—perfection he isn’t even aware of.
I feel like I’ve struck gold.
I’m holding a winning lottery ticket.
I have found the secret to magic.
“Oh …” He’s taken a peek at his phone, which sits on a nearby table by the wall. “Wow. That … That hour went by so … went by so fast.”
His voice carries the grief of a deflated balloon.
I hear you, Tye.
“We can carry on past the hour,” I suggest at once before I can stop myself. Immediately after blurting that, I reassume my professional demeanor and amend my statement with: “I have no more clients for the night, and … I think we can achieve some nice shots in that chair by the back wall.”
He gives a hopeful glance at the chair before, with a grimace, he turns back to me with worry in his eyes. “I … I don’t think I can, uh … afford … a second hour.” Then with a roll of his eyes, he adds under his breath, “Not that I knew what the first hour is gonna cost me to begin with …”
“It’s waived.”
Tye looks at me. “What?”
“The fee. Your fee. It’s …” I exhale all over my camera unintentionally, then set it down and eye him. “This isn’t a vanity shoot. Not anymore.”
“Vanity …?”
“I’m calling this a time-for-print shoot. In other words, it’s mutually benefiting the both of us, and you owe me nothing. Our work tonight is—” Reel in the excitement. Stop gushing like a little bitch. “—is damn substantial. Tye, you could have a serious career in modeling … if you wanted.”
Those words seem to stun him worse than my just having told him this entire session is free. “A career in … in modeling …?”
“No need to think it over right now,” I tell him. “Just one thing at a time. We can shoot some more, then call it a night, and …” My heart tries to jump out of my chest. I clear my throat and nod at Tye. “… and after you see what we shot today, maybe you’ll agree to scheduling another shoot with me.”
Tye’s face brightens with excitement. “Yeah. Yes. Definitely. I’d love that.”
“You would?”
“Yes. Let’s do some more. And … And also do another shoot sometime. Anytime. I’m all yours.”
I suppress a smirk of excruciating satisfaction.
Those words—I’m all yours—do more to me than he’ll ever know. “It’s a deal,” I grunt, pleased.
[ THE MONEY SHOT ]
The sun today is bright. The lighting is perfect.
A busy week has passed since Dante’s first night with Tye.
And in an alleyway between an Indian restaurant and a shoe store, Dante snaps another shot of his newest muse.
10
“Should I try something more like … this?” He lifts his chin, thrusts his hands into his pockets, and leans his head back against the brick.
“Perfect.” I quickly lift my camera to catch the shot before he moves again. “Oh yeah, baby. That is damned perfect.”
Tye smirks subtly.
Our week together has made him confident.
“Are you sure?” he asks suddenly, breaking his perfect posture and looking my way. “I feel like I’m pretending to be some kind of douchey model.”
Well … a little more confident. “You’re not.”
“You sure?”
“The more you ask, the more I’m sure.” I snap a few more shots. “Take a hand out of your pocket and put it behind your head.”
He obeys. “Like this?”
“Just like that.” Snap, snap, snap.
I get a nice and lengthy moment of him being a perfect vision of strength, youth, and beauty. Then he peers at me. “You get enough shots, Dante? I’m kinda thinking it’s time for lunch, don’t you?”
I will never get enough shots of Tye, no matter how many shoots, no matter how many hours.
“Yeah,” I say anyway, letting the strap around my neck take the weight of my camera. “Let’s go get a bite.”
We hit up a diner on the corner nearby, where we take a seat at a booth by a greasy window that overlooks the street. He’s halfway through chewing a mouthful of burger when he squints at me and says, “There’s been something I’ve been meaning to ask you.”
Even when the kid is stuffing his face, he looks like a dream. In fact … Nah, I shouldn’t snap a shot of him in the middle of a bite. Damn, what’s wrong with me?
