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He flipped his hair over to one side as he dug through his cosmetic bag. Then he pulled out a compact and a tube of lip gloss with a subtle tint to it. As he held up the mirror and applied the gloss to his lips, I took several pictures. He looked up at me and grinned, and I snapped another photo.
I kept photographing him through five more outfit changes, before he decided we were done for the day. We went to our room and climbed onto the unmade bed, and he tucked an arm behind his head and grinned at me. He’d changed into his favorite grayish blue lace-trimmed underwear and a matching camisole for the last set of photos, and I murmured, “You’re the most beautiful person in all the world, Gabriel.”
He grinned at me. “What an overstatement.”
“Nope, it’s a fact.”
I jumped up and stood on the foot of the bed. Then I held the phone above him and snapped a photo as he laughed and asked, “What are you doing?”
“Trying to show you what I see.”
I almost lost my balance, and he said, “Come back. You’re going to fall off the bed.”
“Just one more.”
He was still laughing as I bounced from one foot to the other, and he threw his arm over his eyes and said, “You’ve taken a million pictures today. Be done already!”
I snapped one final photo, then stretched out beside him. “Here’s actual proof of how beautiful you are.” When I showed him the screen he sighed and shook his head, but he was smiling. After I put the phone on the nightstand, I gathered him into my arms and said, “That was a lot of fun, and I think we got some great shots.”
It made me sad when his smile faded. “I had fun too, but I can’t help but think it’s all a bit pointless.”
“What makes you say that?”
“I just don’t see how I’ll ever be able to afford actually getting a company off the ground. I have about six thousand dollars in the bank, which I was able to save because I had free room and board at the resort for the last year. I’m willing to spend every cent of that, but I know it’s not enough. Even if we somehow manage to produce some inventory, there are a million other expenses that go into starting a business.”
“So, maybe what you need is an investor. Your friend Sawyer is the obvious choice, since you mentioned he likes lingerie. Plus, his husband’s family owns a department store and several manufacturing facilities in the UK. I bet they’d know exactly where to go to get your lingerie made at a good price.”
He sat up and shook his head. “There’s no way I’d ever ask Sawyer for money. He and his husband have already done so much by opening their home to me, both when I needed a place to stay and again for this visit. I’d feel like I was taking advantage of their friendship.”
“You wouldn’t be going to him for a handout. You’d be asking him to invest in your company, which would end up making him a profit.”
“Or not,” he said. “This whole thing could crash and burn, and I’d feel terrible if my friend ended up losing money because of me.”
“Then what’s the alternative?”
He muttered, “To give up on this crazy idea.”
“Already? We’ve barely gotten started.”
“It’s such a nice fantasy that I could turn my passion into a business, and this photoshoot felt like living a dream. But realistically, there’s no way I can afford to do this.”
I asked, “What if you scale it back and just make pieces to order?”
“I thought about that, but it isn’t really what I want. The dream is an online shop with stuff people can actually afford. It’s time-consuming to make custom pieces versus having them mass-produced. That means I’d have to jack up the price if I wanted to earn more than a dollar or two an hour by sewing everything myself.”
He had some good points, but there was no way I was willing to give up so soon. “I get not wanting to involve Sawyer and Alastair, but what about asking Roger for some contact names? You said he’s worked closely with Alastair’s family for years, so he might know people in garment manufacturing who could answer our questions and give us some cost estimates. What if this is cheaper than we’re assuming it is?”
Gabriel shook his head. “He probably would know who to contact, but I don’t want to open that can of worms. The moment Roger even suspects I need something, he’ll launch into full solve-all-my-problems mode.”
“I bet you can reel him in, though,” I said. “Just explain that all you need are some names and phone numbers, nothing more. What’s the worst that could happen?”
