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Focusing on Jase, she asked, “And what about you? Boundaries?”
“None,” he replied immediately. I swallowed. In my mind, I could picture him naked and standing in front of a camera. I bet that was a sight to see. He added, “Anything my co-model is comfortable with, I’m comfortable with.”
“Well,” Paloma said, “thank you both for that heads up. It’s good to know going into this. You’ll be receiving all legal paperwork, as well as a detailed itinerary this evening. We’re hoping to start shooting within a week if you’re able to accommodate that?”
I nodded without hesitation. It wasn’t like I’d gotten that job at the burger joint. Jase, on the other hand, looked hesitant for a second, but quickly masked it.
“Yeah. Yeah, that’ll be fine,” he replied.
Paloma looked absolutely delighted.
We spent another half hour talking about random things, which I think were more for me and Jase’s benefit than for Paloma’s.
Age came up and I was surprised to learn that Jase was twenty-three, making me a year older than him. He lived with two other guys in a neighborhood not too far from Nob Hill. He was single and didn’t have any kids and currently worked at a spa but modeled on the side. I made a fool of myself when it was my turn to talk, especially about what I did for a living. But in the end, we had a good time. Jase even walked Paloma and me to our cars at the end of the mixer.
He was cute, fit, and seemingly well-mannered. I was looking forward to working with him over the next couple of weeks. Model-to-model, of course. Nothing more.
A week later, I was back in the car, driving the fifty miles from San Jose to San Francisco. It was a gorgeous day, the perfect day for shooting on the beach like we would be doing, according to the itinerary.
I was fresh out of the shower, my curly, still-damp hair pinned on top of my head to dry. For me, prepping for a shoot was a process. I worked out and ate clean as hell leading up to it and then I shaved and waxed my body to hairless perfection. The only hair left on me was on my head and eyebrows.
Excitement with a touch of nervousness spiked through me. Today, I would be shooting pictures that were going to be on book covers. That was surreal. And sort of immortalizing.Grinning, I turned up the Bruno Mars song on the radio and sped up. San Francisco, here I come!
We were meeting at Baker Beach. Per the itinerary, the hair/makeup artist and the photographer would be waiting in a beach cottage owned by an author in the boxed set. Paloma hadn’t been kidding when she said they were all chipping in to make this catalogue happen.
It took forever to find parking, and by the time I did, then located the cottage, I only had five minutes to spare before I was due in the chair.
The beach house was small and old, going by the fading paint on its clapboard exterior, but it had a charm about it. I knocked on the sand-worn door and waited, stepping back in surprise when it opened and Jase appeared, wearing a white tank top and shorts.
“Hey, you made it,” he said.
I smiled, suddenly nervous.
“Yes, barely. I’ve been circling the lots at the top of the beach for a half hour, trying to find a parking spot.”
He smiled, understanding written all over his face. He was a local, so of course he knew what a nightmare parking was.
Changing the subject, I asked, “So, you ready for today?”
His grin widened. “Yeah. I can’t believe we’re going to be on the cover of a book…er, books! That’s hella wild.”
“Right! Guess we better tell the photographer to catch our good sides.”
“Please,” Jase scoffed playfully. “You don’t have a bad side anywhere on you.”
Was he flirting with me?
Before I could decide whether or not to call him out on it, three people bustled into the small living room.
“There you two are!” a woman exclaimed loudly. She sashayed—yes, sashayed—over to Jase and me and smiled. “Paloma was right, you are stunning together!” She held out her hand. “I’m GG Rawlins.”
My eyes lit up, I knew she looked familiar. She was an author whose work I’d read a few times.
“Kelendria Towers, but you can call me Kelly,” I replied, shaking her hand. “I’m a big fan of your book, Evan & Ivory.”
“Thank you!” she gushed.The Cheshire Cat grin on her face spoke volumes.
A stout, greying man with a camera hanging from around his neck stepped forward. “GG?” She turned around to face him. “If you want beach day shots and not sunset shots, we’d better get moving.” His tone wasn’t snide or rude, just factual.
