I was a man on a mission.
I'd given the Glees girl exactly a week to come and collect the chip out of the camera, and she never did. I'd gotten the sense that she was lying from the jump. The pictures weren't very good for her to want them in the first place.
But she was good. She had a nice face and a confident physique. Insanely good posture. I thought it wouldn't hurt to coax her back to the studio; however, she'd done no such thing. I'd asked John to let her know I was waiting, and he said he'd told her, but she never showed.
So I was going to her.
I knew that getting her to model would probably be a moot point, seeing as how I'd never seen her face until she randomly showed up to drop the camera back off. This made me curious. She'd never needed a camera before, and she returned it with a bunch of random pictures on it. Not to mention she was clearly a novice. I wondered what she did with her spare time, since she clearly had little interest in the family business.
That evening, I offered to stay until the studio's closing to keep Mr. Glees company after Queenie called out. Mrs. Glees had some type of weekday yoga class to attend, and if I didn't stay, he'd be alone for several hours. I saw this as an opportunity.
"Aye, Mr. Glees? Do you think you could drop me home? I hate getting on the bus this late."
He obliged, and I used that chance to ask a follow-up. "And could we... could we stop by your place also? Your daughter still hasn't come to get this SD card and I'd like to be able to use it again," I half lied. I had at least ten personal SD cards, and I could toss hers in the trash and hardly notice.
"Oh, right. That girl can be so scatterbrained. I think she gets it from me..." he rambled while he dug in a crate, looking for something. "I think she might still have the macro lens for that camera too. She probably won't know what I'm talking about if I ask for it, so could you get that from her too?"
A warmth spread through my chest at how good my luck was. Someone was smiling down at me, had to be.
She had the perfect makings of a muse. Her hair was big, I could tell even as it was pulled behind her at the nape of her neck. Her lips and face overall were smooth and pouty, and I got the impression that she was spoiled. Looking at her parents and the life they'd built for her, it would only make sense.
Her legs went on for miles. When she'd stood in front of me, fixing to drop that camera, we could look each other in the eyes without craning our necks. And she looked about my age.
I blinked, snapping to. I met the girl once, in the middle of doing my job. How had I been able to internalize so much of her form?
I'd be lying if I said I wasn't guilty of flicking through the camera memory to look at her again. She was a stunner.
And maybe, with a little bit more luck, I'd be able to get her back to the studio.
How much money does the photography studio make?
I gaped in awe at the estate. I made decent money working for the Glees family, but my check came nowhere near what their house must cost.
Gathering myself, I got out of the car and prepared to face the girl. I fiddled with the SD card in my hand, suddenly feeling foolish.
Showing up at a stranger's house unannounced? Granted, I'd worked for her parents for over four years at that point, moving through the ranks of apprentice, intern, and now full-time employee, so I wasn't a complete stranger. But this girl probably didn't even remember my name.
It was too late to turn back now, I thought.
The front door opened with a loud ring, no doubt from a security system. The foyer was bare, but just a couple of steps beyond it, Dalia was there, playing with what I assumed was the newborn baby sister.
"Dad, get your child. She's throwing--" she paused as she looked at me. Her composure remained, but she was clearly surprised to see me. Her glossed lips parted slightly, awaiting an explanation.
"I came to clear the SD card," I wasted no time. "And to also pick up the macro lens you didn't return off the camera."
"The what?"
Mr. Glees snorted next to me before gesturing his hand as to say, "Find it, please."
"Where did you store the camera?"
"Um," she shakily stood to her feet and wiped her hands on her pajama shorts. "In my room." They were those shorts that girls wore in the summertime, with the white lining on the sides. Like the first time we met, her legs and belly button were on full display.
"How old are you?" I choked out as my legs absentmindedly followed her to her room. "17. 18 in a couple months."
The subconscious voice in the back of my head blew out a breath of relief. Atlanta girls were age ambiguous, and I didn't want to muse-ify a 15-year-old.
"I'm 18," I offered without her asking.
She didn't much respond. I wished I could see her face to gauge a reaction, but she was now facing the other way, walking towards what I guessed was her room.
To keep from being lewd, I started at her bare feet as she walked. Her bare feet that were freshly painted baby blue...
My heart rate was increasing and my fight or flight triggered. The girl had spoken all of ten words around me, and I was behaving like a maniac.
"Are you in school?" I thought to ask, trying to distract myself from the fact that I was now in her room.
"I'd like to think so. My parents don't work for me to be a dropout," she plopped down on her bed, her feet facing inwards.
"I've never seen you around and I just graduated in May."
"Yeah. You were probably at MLK. I'm at the private school."
"Trent?"
She rolled her eyes in response. "Just a bunch of status-hungry rich kids."
"Oh, but you're so different, huh?" I joked, looking at her large room.
She squinted her eyes at me and I quickly retreated. "So the macro lens. It's a large barrel that snaps onto the frame of the camera. It was in the case with the camera, you might have put it out of the bag to make space--"
"Why are you here?" she asked me.
I blinked at her as if the answer was obvious. "To clear this SD card and get the $1,200 macro lens in your possession?"
"My dad owns the studio, he could have gotten it. And I'm sure you have a million of those lil things," she waved a hand at the SD card I'd been fiddling with since I entered her home. Her finger nails were french tipped, a stark contrast to the bright colors she seemed to wear. Even her bedroom walls were painted a shocking purple.
I licked my bottom lip, nervously. "I wanted to talk to you."
"I don't like men."
My heart sank. "So you like girls?"
I kicked myself mentally.
"That's not what I meant," she cocked her head to the side, looking away from me to recollect herself. After a mere second, she sighed and asked, "What did you want to talk about?"
"So I saw your pictures on the camera and the card."
For the second time since I met her, she seemed meek and embarrassed even. The first time her face blushed in this way was when she realized she'd failed to clear the card herself. She'd been clumsy and misaligned when she'd nearly dropped that camera, but never meek. She must've known they were bad. I didn't rub salt in the wound.
"Yeah, photography's more of my parents' thing."
"Right. Which got me thinking, maybe modeling could be your thing instead?" My eyebrows perked up as I tried to break the offer as smoothly as possible.
"What do you mean?"
"As in you could model for me."
She did a motion with her lips. "I don't see how this benefits me."
"I suppose it doesn't. Unless you're into that kind of thing. I was just trying to break into some freelancing work now that I'm graduated. Trying to make something shake."
"Well that's noble and all," she hoisted herself off her electric blue comforter and crossed me. Cocoa butter. "But I don't think I can be the one to help you. I have no experience or interest in that type of thing. And if you're trying to make something shake sometime soon, I'd advise against me. I'm not really a quick study," she motioned her hand to the SD card yet again. "Speaking of which, you can delete all those pics. I'd like to forget they ever happened."
Without another word on the subject, she reached in her closet and pulled the macro lens out. "My bad for keeping this. I had no idea what it was when I pulled it out of the bag then was too prideful to google it. Forgot all about it."
"I guess that's my cue to leave then," I used my free hand to scratch at the back of my neck.
"I guess it is," she smirked back at me. "Bye..."
"Lawrence."
"Lawrence, right."
"Goodnight Dalia Glees," I said her whole name to illustrate that I clearly thought her more memorable than she did me.
Then she shut her bedroom door. I had everything I'd come for, but I couldn't help but feel I'd left something behind.
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