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Apparently, my counterpart was running late and we aren’t a fan of tardiness.
Shame on them.
“Come now, Ms. Scarlett.” Arm outstretched towards the corner with the candles, the photographer whose name I’ve forgotten for the hundredth time gestures for me to join him. There’s a silk tie draped over his arm that has my stomach diving with nerves, but my feet following him anyways.
I must be crazy. This is how women go missing.
“I assure you, madam, I am a professional.” I feel the color drain from my face as he spins on his wing-tipped heels back to me, the candlelight at his back darkening his features.
It’s creepy as hell.
“Holy shit, did I say that out loud?” My hand is over my mouth in shock, assessing how quickly I can run in these heels to the door.
Is this where he murders me and tells my sister I ran off into the sunset?
He chuckles and steps to the side with a head shake. “No, you didn’t utter a word, however, I know the look. I’ve worked with many a clientele. I honor my word as a professional. You are safe here. We can stop any time you need, for whatever the reason.”
A soft smile cracks at the corner of his thinned lips, setting some of my nerves at ease. It’s not his fault it looks like the emotion hurts his tummy. I give a short nod in response, which is enough to get him going again.
“So … we are going to start out with blind folds on you both,” he says as he holds the fabric out to me with manicured hands and winking cuff links. I take the silk that matches my dress perfectly and watch as he continues about the spot, adjusting candles so the light flickers differently on the wall. I finger the material, feeling the smoothness through my nerves. “Neither of you know a thing about the other, but that’s the point. However!” He spins back to me, sending my heart into a padder with an index finger pointing to the ceiling. “If you recognize the other participant, you are obliged to notify me without causingan interruption.” He steps forward, looking taller somehow, the camera looming from his neck making itself known right in my face.
Holy shit balls, I’m about to do this.
Am I really about to fucking do this?
“This other participant is a high-profile client of mine.” Spinning away from me, the photographer moves about collecting this and that, shit I don’t know how it works or what it’s called but I’ve seen my sister with similar items that piece together and make up a device good enough to take the best photos. He practically levitates from one spot to the next in his perfectly creased slacks and smooth blazer, his gaze coming back to me to make sure I’m listening, his steps graceful. Calculated. “It is imperative that you keep your composure.” I nod, but inside, my stomach is in knots and my pits are sweating. This can’t be good.
Oh, my god. I can’t do this.
My stomach turns, every bit of the reassurance he’d given me melts away the more words come out of his mouth. Who the hell is this other person? Do I even want to know?
“I certainly hope that you won’t recognize him.”Oh no, it’s not a chick.Why is itnota chick?
Why does that freak me out even more?
Oh, God.
“The only thing I will need from you, Ms. Scarlett, is to act natural. You must ignore my presence wherever possible and embrace the moment.”
Embrace the moment.
I suck in a breath at the words, Chip’s voice echoing through my head with that very same phrase. It became his mantra when the sickness started taking its toll on his body and eventually his mind. He knew that each moment was a blessing and that any could be his last. A sense of calm washes over me as goosebumpsblossom across my skin and I work a swallow down my dried throat.
Embrace the moment.
“Ms. Scarlett. Are you prepared?” The photographer stands in front of me, his arms open wide in an invitation. I look from his hands to his face, fill my lungs to the point of bursting, and give him another curt tilt of the head.
I bring the tie up to my face with hesitant movements. It’s soft and thin to the touch, but just as black as my dress. A perfect match.
Inhale, one … two … three …I lift the fabric to my face.
Exhale, one … two … three … four.And wrap it to the back of my head.
One knot to secure, the lack of sight makes my skin prick and hair raise. My hearing goes sensitive, desperate to catch anything that might cause me harm. I pick up on Genevie’s fluid footsteps which actually have a faint limp I don’t think I could have noticed otherwise.
Inhale, one… two… three…
A door in the distance opens and then closes.
