Clearly

“Hello,” I heard a female voice say, causing me to turn my head to see who it was. There was a tall woman greeting me, her brown hair swept back in a bun and a deep blue sundress set upon her tiny frame. She seemed like such a kind, welcoming woman.

“Hello,” I responded politely, putting my bag down so that I could stand up and shake her hand.

“You must be Dalton,” she said politely, smoothing out her dress before sitting in the seat across from me.

“Yes, ma’am,” I told her awkwardly, smiling.

“How do you like my home?” She asked me.

“It’s truly exquisite!” I said enthusiastically. “Some of the sights are amazingly beautiful; I’d love to photograph them. Your home is truly amazing,” I told her truthfully.

She laughed, a happy tingle coming out of her throat. “Please, take as many pictures as you would like. If everything goes as planned we will be keeping you around for a while, young man.”

I didn’t know what she meant but I decided to continue with the conversation, not wanting to find myself in an awkward situation surrounded by silence. “Would you like to see my portfolio?” I asked politely.

“Yes! Of course!” She said happily, reaching her hand out to me.

I reached towards my photography bag, unzipping it delicately before I reached in and pulled out my portfolio. “The pictures are placed in order from when they are taken so you can see how I’ve not only improved throughout the years, but the different types of skills I have. The last picture was actually developed only yesterday, the family had loved it.” I’m not trying to brag, I’m just trying to point out a few of my achievements in the field of photography.

She nodded thoughtfully, skimming through my portfolio, analyzing each picture before moving onto the next. “I must say,” she murmured. “That these prints are absolutely divine. I would have hired you off of the first photograph but seeing how you’ve improvement is amazing. I used to be a model and I wish that they had photographers like you in my time, you capture angles perfectly.”

“Thank you, ma’am,” I told her around a grin.

“Please, call me Mel.” She is such a down to Earth woman, not what I was expecting for the wife of a world renowned lawyer.

“Mel,” I said happily. “What made you decide to stop modeling?”

“Ah, I loved it, but I was getting old. The business became more risqué and it’s not something that I necessarily support. On top of that, I met John and fell in love. I wanted to fall in love and have a family once we started our lives together, not pursue a career that could inevitably come crashing down the second I got one wrinkle or gained one pound.” She explained. She is a very insightful woman, has a good head screwed onto her shoulders.

“It’s rare that you find people like that in the world these days.” I responded. “Most people don’t appreciate true art anymore. They just look for photographs with naked men or women or something inappropriate. They’d look at these and think they’re cute then move onto the next, not having the scene engraved in their mind.”

“You are very right,” she told me as she closed my portfolio. “Some ways that people view the modeling industry these days are just… atrociously degrading. I’m proud that I removed myself from it in time. And about appreciating good art, yours is amazing. You really have an endless amount of skill, Dalton,” she said around a motherly smile.

“Thank you,” I told her. “Photography is just one of those things that I’ve loved and have wanted to pursue my entire life, even if my parents didn’t necessarily agree with my decision.”

“And why would they not agree with your decision? You are truly talented. Some people would kill for some of the skills you have.”

“They wanted me to become a lawyer since I received scholarships to prestigious law schools, but I wanted to follow my passion, as cliché as that seems.” I responded, blushing a bit.

“Oh, dear, that’s not cliché at all! You should always do what you want to do, not what others want you to do,” she said as she leaned forward and patted my knee. “My husband is a lawyer. You may have heard of him, John Walter Gordon.”

I nodded my head. When I heard that a rich family was interested in my skill I googled them. I tried not to get dragged into the world they lived in, the word of high class citizens that are constantly tailed my paparazzi, because I believe paparazzi are the lowest of the low. Paparazzi spend their time building people up just so they can tear them down. It is a horrible profession and truly hurts some people. I refuse to take part in that. I’m a photographer purely for the art, not for the exploitation.

“Of course I have,” I told her softly. “He’s the most sought after lawyer in the United States.” I told her softly.

“Yes, yes he is.” She beamed proudly. She was bragging a tiny bit but I wasn’t offended, after all, if I had a husband like that I would claim bragging rights as well. “I must say,” she said softly. “When I first thought about hiring someone that wasn’t well known I was a bit worried, thinking they’d be rude, unintelligent, and lack great skill, but I’m glad I found you, Dalton. I’d really like for you to take this job.”

I beamed at her, not believing my ears. “I’d love to! I could use the money and I feel like I could expand my photography horizon if I were to walk around your lovely estate. However, if you don’t mind my asking, why would you want to hire someone that isn’t well known when you can hire virtually anyone in the country?” I was truly curious. Ever since Mel had called me a week ago this question has been eating away at my mind.

“It’s really a simple answer. Professionals are arrogant fools and like to sell their photographs to magazines, something that we don’t really like.” She explained.

“Oh, I wouldn’t do this for fame. I do it purely out of love of the art.” I told her honestly.

“I can see that,” she told me, pointing to my portfolio. “Your portfolio says it all. I have yet to see someone with a portfolio as extensive as yours.”

“Again, thank you. I don’t think I deserve your compliments.” I told her truthfully. “Now that I have the job, though, do you mind telling me what the job is?”

She laughed. “Oh! How silly of me. I can’t believe I hired you for a job and completely forgot to tell you what exactly you would need to be doing. Anyway, I have a daughter named Marcie. She’ll be sixteen soon and she needs to throw this huge bash, you know, a sweet sixteen. She needs a photographer for her party.” She explained.

“Sounds easy enough,” I told her quietly. Taking photographs for a sweet sixteen can’t be all that bad.

“Not necessarily,” she said as she furrowed her brow. “Marcie is an interesting girl. She’ll probably have you coming by every day for a new photo shoot completely irrelevant to the one the day before so that she has a huge variety of photos. She never makes decisions until the last minute.”

“I’d feel bad, miss, intruding on your property every day.” It’s not a life time client, it’s just a way to get money.

“Well, until her party, we would like you to come by every day,” she explained.

That’s asking a bit much of me, don’t you think? “I-“ She cut me off.

“I know it’s a ludicrous idea, but will you please allow me to explain?” She asked me softly.

“Of course, please, explain,” I said, gesturing with my hands as I put my portfolio back into my photography bag.

“Thank you,” she said politely. “Marcie is extremely unpredictable so we’d rather have you around instead of having to call you all the time. Now, I know this may be of inconvenience for you when it comes to not only your job but your relationships. We’re not asking you to live with us, maybe spend a night or two if you stay really late, but not live with us. We have a son that is around your age, so you could spend down time with him. And since we’d be taking away from the opportunity to get other clients we’d be willing to pay you one thousand dollars for every roll you take. Considering you’d get at least a two rolls a day for Marcie, you’d be making a pretty good living.” She said, staring at me intently.

“One thousand dollars?” I asked softly. “That’s a lot of money for just one roll of film.” She has to be kidding me.

“My husband and I are aware of that, but we figured we’d need to convince you to come by every day and give up other customers for us. Also, Marcie can be a bit of a handful sometimes. It’s also a form of guarantee that you won’t leak any photographs to the press.” She elaborated. “Oh! I almost forget. We’d be willing to add on an extra one hundred dollars for any roll of film that is in color since you told me that color film costs more than black and white film.”

“You really don’t have to,” I tried to explain. “I wouldn’t release the pictures to begin with.”

“Dalton,” she spoke softly. “You are truly admirable to try to give back such an outstanding sum of money, but your payment is my husband and my decision, and this is what we’ve decided.”

“There’s no use fighting it?” I asked quietly, a laugh bubbling past my lips. She is a stubborn woman. She made up her mind and there’s no turning back. I could use the money to buy a bigger place and expand my studio, after all. “You’ve got yourself a deal,” I told her.

“Great!” She said excitedly. “Now, why don’t we go to meet Marcie?” She said, standing up and motioning for me to follow her. I slung my photography bag over my shoulder before following her through her lovely home. I hope Marcie is like her mother, but I’ve been lead to believe that she is practically the complete opposite.

What have I gotten myself into?