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Chapter Four
MADISON
(aka Grace)
Far from my dream job, I felt awkward as I walked the concourse of the empty arena, waiting to make my grand entrance like I was some rock star about to take the stage in front of twenty thousand screaming fans.
As I looked around the empty building, I lifted my camera and took a handful of pictures.
There was a series of pictures I took that came out really cool looking.
The sunlight poured in through the main glass windows, creating long, narrow lines of actual light. Like yellow fingers reaching through the glass without breaking it, touching anything it possibly could.
I played with some of the settings on my super expensive camera to adjust the tone and the contrast of the picture to make those beams of light pop a little bit more.
Somewhere in those few minutes by myself I caught myself smiling, dreaming of a time when a picture like I just took would matter to someone other than me. Maybe I would have the chance to get that picture printed in a magazine or somewhere online. Or the ultimate dream of someone actually paying for my photography…
My phone vibrated.
A text from my father.
Where are you?
“Shit,” I whispered.
I began to jog toward the section he told me to be at when he gave his speech.
Believe me, taking pictures for some hockey team didn’t exactly make me want to jump out of bed in the morning. The only good thing I had going here was that my father loved to have his picture taken. He didn’t look like the type though. His was all big and mean, a former hockey player himself, but he appreciated capturing moments. Mostly to use them for his benefit later.
I walked down the aisle between empty rows of seats.
I heard the sound of skates on ice. The thudding of a hockey puck hitting the glass. Saw the players on the ice, all of them without helmets except the goalie.
I stood at the perfect angle to get the pictures requested.
My father walked onto the ice and commanded the attention of all the players.
That was his style and attitude.
I secretly just hung back and took as many pictures as I possibly could.
As I moved my camera along the ice, I caught myself taking a few extra pictures of the goalie.
Why? I had no idea.
He stood tall and wide, looking almost monstrous in his gear.
His mask had some skull looking design on it.
Most goalies had custom masks.
So that’s why I was taking extra pictures of him.
Then my father made it known who I was.
Now I had a group of hockey players all turning to look at me.
Cue even more awkwardness.
