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Thinking about a pretty girl and how she made you feel wasn’t the wisest choice for me, I had too much else going on. And I didn’t need complications. Nope. I was going to be a professional and contact Lacey in a professional manner because I was a professional.
Maybe if I said it enough times to myself, I’d actually do it.
*^*^*
I stressed the whole next day at the library for my morning shift. I was so out of it, that I had trouble shelving the books, even though I could normally do that in my sleep. I knew I had to contact Lacey ASAP and that Jen was going to ask me about it when I got to work later. So, I sucked it up and got out my phone when I had my lunch break before heading to the café.
Please let me leave a message, please let me leave a message,I thought as the phone rang. Of course, she picked up.
“Hello?”
“Hi, may I please speak with Lacey Cole?” I probably sounded like someone who was trying to sound professional, without actuallysoundingprofessional. Why was I such a dork sometimes?
“This is she,” she said and I could hear a lot of background noise.
“Yes, hi, hello, this is Anna, from the Violet Hill Café? Jen asked me to call you and work things out with what you had in mind for the photos and the story.” I had practiced what I wanted to say and I still sounded awful. Why was I like this? Why couldn’t I be confident? Oh, right, because she was gorgeous. I had such a weakness for pretty people.
“Oh, hello, Anna,” she said, and Isworeshe was smiling when she said it. I could just hear it in her voice.
“Hi,” I said again, like a dope. Wow, I needed to get this situation over with so I didn’t embarrass myself further.
“I’m actually doing some work in a friend’s studio. That’s how I found out about the café. Do you want to meet me there and we can discuss?” Oh, well. I guess?
“Um, sure. I have to work until seven tonight, though. Could I come after?” I hoped she would say yes so I could just get this done.
“Yeah, that works. It’s the Shelly Jones photography studio. Do you know it?” Oh. Yeah. I did. She specialized in taking sexy boudoir photos. Mostly of women to give to their men on Christmas and Valentine’s Day. Not exactly the kind of person I could see hanging out with Lacey, but then again I didn’t know much about her. I’d been tempted to stalk her online, but had refrained out of self-preservation.
“Does eight work for you?” she asked. Shit, her voice was so sexy.
“Yeah,” I said. “Um, see you then?”
“See you then, Anna.” I tried not to imagine her saying my name in the throes of passion. I did not need that in my brain, thank you.
“Okay, bye,” I said before hanging up.
Please let me be more suave tonight. Please.
*^*^*
I told Jen that I was meeting with Lacey after work and she seemed satisfied with that.
“You told Sal anything?” Jen rolled her eyes. Today she was rocking several shades of glittery shadow that made her eyelids look like a galaxy. I would never be able to pull of that look, but she could.
“I’ll only tell her when it’s a definite. You know how she feels about ‘social media clickbait’,” she said, using her fingers to make air quotes.
“Yup, I do.” For someone who was still quite young, Sal was a hardcore Luddite. She didn’t even like people paying with cards, and Jen had had to talk her into upgrading their equipment all the time. But she was a lovable grump and I adored them both.
“So, maybe get something in writing? Like a proposal or something? I don’t know. Just some parameters so we know what’s what.” That sounded like a good idea, and something that hadn’t even crossed my mind.
“I will. I’ll work up something with Lacey.” Why did that sound totally dirty? I could feel myself blushing, but Jen didn’t seem to notice.
“Sounds good.” I got through the rest of my shift and hurried home to shower and get myself presentable before driving over to the photography studio. The lights were off on the first floor of the building, but there was a glow on the second floor. I texted Lacey to let her know I was out front and she told me to come around the back and head up the stairs.
I knocked on the door at the top of the dark stairs.
“It’s open,” Lacey called and I cautiously stuck my head in. She was working, crouched behind a camera and taking photographs . . . of a cat.
“Hey,” I said, not wanting to disturb whatever was going on. The all-black cat sat placidly on an elaborate velvet chaise, not even disturbed by the clicking of the lens or the lights trained on it.
