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Hell, I’ve been a model since I was sixteen, and even that had just kind of fallen into my lap, it wasn’t my dream job or anything. Now I had to figure out what was my dream job, or take advantage of the skills I’d picked up on set and in the photography and lighting classes I’d taken over the years as a way to keep my mind sharp and make me a better model. It sounded ridiculous now, but it had served me well in my career and earned me a reputation as an easygoing model who followed directions well and always found the light.
But other than being pretty and knowing my angles, I had no real skills. “Dammit.”
I’d spent all morning staring at my computer, scouring job boards and analyzing the job market in Carson Creek. There was nothing that appealed to me, and the jobs that did—lawyer, accountant, veterinarian—I didn’t have the skills for. No answer magically appeared and the proverbial lightbulb did not go off in a moment of genius.
It was time to face the facts, and those facts were irrefutable. I had no life skills and I had plenty of money in the bank. But what kind of parent, what kind of role model would I be if I just sat around all day and did nothing?
No role model at all.
I had to find something to do, even if it was just something to occupy my time.
I picked up the phone and dialed an old friend. “Rashad, it’s Trey.”
“Trey, holy shit! What’s up man? I hear you retired, finally got sick of smiling and looking pretty?”
I smiled at his deep voice, full of laughter as usual. “Nah, my sister passed away and I’m taking care of my niece now. I’m in need of ideas to keep myself busy.”
Rashad sighed, and I knew he would give it to me straight. We’d work lots of runway jobs and ad campaigns together over the years, and he was the closest thing I had to a friend within the industry.
“Where are you now?”
“Carson Creek. It’s in Tennessee.”
He let out a low whistle. “You never did do anything halfway. I’m guessing travel is out of the question, brush up on your editing skills and maybe your reputation will get you some jobs, but you know how it is, everything is pretty much hands on.”
I nodded, because that was exactly the answer I expected. “Just as I suspected.”
“My advice? Live off the money you’ve already made, make some decent investments and be super dad.”
“Meaning?”
“Meaning do all the crap our dads didn’t have time for while they worked long hours just to put food on the table. Bake sales, coaching, mentoring, all that parenting stuff that kids need.”
I laughed at Rashad’s words but they did have merit. “That’s your advice?”
“Hell yeah, and it’s good advice, too. It’ll keep your niece grounded and off the pole.”
I groaned and shook my head. “I could do without that imagery.”
“Yeah well, I could do without wondering if the thong I’m sticking twenty dollar bills in belongs to my buddy’s little girl.” Rashad laughed and the sound pulled me right in, and I vowed to do better at maintaining this friendship.
“And on that note, I’m going for a walk. Thanks, Rashad.”
“Anytime, man. Hey, I have a lead on some investments, I’ll send you the details by email. It’s always nice to let some of that money work for you instead of the bank.”
“I’ll look it over.” After the call ended, I shoved my phone and wallet in my pocket and ventured out into the streets of Carson Creek. It wasn’t Los Angeles, but as I got closer to the Main Street, an actual Main Street, I noticed there was plenty of foot traffic.
Every single person I passed offered up a hello and a smile. Some even stopped to chat and ask about Keri and if we needed anything. It was surreal to me, even though I’d grown up in a small town myself. It was drab and poor, and most people struggled simply to survive. After forty minutes of walking, I felt more useless than ever when it came to my prospects for the future, but I felt satisfied that I’d chosen right when it came to where to raise Keri.
She was a southern girl at heart, and I’d given her that while offering her a shot at a better, more stable future.
I came to a stop in front of a photo studio, surprised to see something so metropolitan in this small town. There was a red and white striped awning proclaiming the property as Val’s Photo Studio & Gallery. I had to go inside and check it out.
Wooden chimes sounded and then a feminine voice called out. “Be with you in a second!”
I smiled at the familiar voice, and when Valona strolled out wearing a long black dress with a multi-colored scarf tossed casually around her shoulders, my smile grew. “Valona? You’re the Val that owns this place?” I couldn’t hide my surprise.
