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Chapter 4
ALEX
IknowIshouldn’t, but I pull out my phone anyway as soon as the photographer’s back is turned. I scan my messages, finding Seth’s text messages. He’s been pretty good about updating me about Rachel’s situation. She’s been sticking to Dr. Adams’s diet, even though she’s come to despise it. It’s only been two weeks. Maybe less. I smile while reading through Seth’s messages, happy to see that Rachel’s blood pressure has gone down a bit. Not much, but it’s still better than it going up. We can’t have her going back to the hospital before her due date.
“Alex!” I hear Susan shout.
My head pops up and I flinch as I notice not only Susan’s dark scowl in the shadows but also the photographer’s.
“Sorry,” I say with an awkward smile.
I slide my phone back into my pocket and move into another pose. Technically, I’m not supposed to have my phone on me during shoots. However, I was able to weasel it onto set after begging Susan to let me have it.
“But my girlfriend may have to be rushed back to the hospital,” I remember telling Susan.
I recall the way she rolled her eyes and how she huffed and puffed before finally giving in. Of course, I blame my puppy dog eyes for getting my way. They usually work, but Susan is usually pretty obstinate and doesn’t care what’s going on in other people’s personal lives. I always thought her soulless, believing work came first above all else. I guess she does care about others.
“All right,” the photographer says after we’ve nailed a few shots. “Go and change into the next outfit.”
I strut across the floor to a group of assistants who are smiling at me. They’re young, about my age, and keen to help me with anything I may need.
“Here you are, Mr. Goode,” one girl says while handing me a bottle of water.
Two others wait at my side while I chug the water. They hold a mixture of neon clothes I wouldn’t normally be caught dead in. I finish one bottle and I’m handed another, feeling as if I’ve been walking several hours in a desert. The lights are hot and sometimes I worry about not drinking enough water. I wonder if anyone has ever passed out due to them. I feel a little bratty, since many models do photoshoots outside in the rain and snow, whereas I’m inside complaining about a few lights.
Honestly, I’m quite shocked we’re not doing a photoshoot outside. LA has so many beautiful spots to offer. There are beaches, mountains, and the desert. A part of me worries I’m still being punished for missing the photoshoot in Chicago. I wouldn’t blame them. I should have called them the moment I didn’t step onto that plane. Instead, I had been so worried about Rachel, I completely forgot about the job and the people relying on me.
I stop chugging my water when I see Susan stalking toward me. “Away,” she grumbles to the assistants, and with a flick of her hand, they scatter.
Shit. She’s going to scold me about the phone. I just know it. I should have waited for the photographer to tell me to change. Or, better yet, left it with one of Susan’s many assistants who are so desperate to please her, they’d probably lick the bottom of her shoes.
“Hi, Susan,” I say with a worried smile while setting my water bottle down on the table nearest me. “Is anything wrong?”
Susan’s gaze narrows on me, and with that little change in her features, I feel my heart slamming in my chest. She’s going to fire me. I just know it. I haven’t proved myself worthy at all. This is it. Goodbye cool dream job. It was nice knowing you.
“How’s your girlfriend?”
I swallow the lump in my throat, wondering where this is going. “Huh?” I instantly wince. What was that? Susan asks me a question and I answer with a stupid ‘huh?’
“Your girlfriend,” Susan repeats, her tone irritated. “How is she?”
I bob my head and slide my hands in my pockets. “Good,” I rasp. I clear my throat and say more clearly, “Her blood pressure has gone down a little bit. No trips to the hospital—yet. Knock on wood,” I add while knocking on the table.
“That’s good.”
There’s something in Susan’s tone suggesting she isn’t quite happy with me. I swear she doesn’t blink as she stares. Yep, she definitely wants to scold me about something. Or fire me. Susan has fired several models. She doesn’t care if they’re famous, beautiful, or have money. If she’s done with you, then that means she’s done with you.
“I’m a bit concerned about your dedication, Alex.”
Fuck. Yep. This is the ‘you’re fired’ talk.
“You’ve been checking your phone way too much on set, and I can tell just by looking into your eyes that you’re not here.”
Well, to be honest, I’m not. I’m thinking about Rachel. I’m worried something will go wrong again. Unfortunately, I’m in a completely different state, so if something does go wrong, it will take me longer to get to her.
“I understand why you’re on edge. Anyone would be.”
Okay. That’s a bit better.
