AN: I still don't own twilight. S.M does.
I am looking for a beta, if anyone is interested.
On we go….
|Bella|
This is my favorite time of the day, early morning. Everything is calm and still and the studio has a magical quality to it. I step into my large warehouse flat and look around. The building used to be an old fabric warehouse back in the mid 1950's. It had seen better days when I decided to buy it. It has an urban charm to it that most people overlook.
The exterior is made out of faded red brick. It stands as tall as a two story building, but only houses one level. This is the main reason I loved it. On the west side of the building, there is one large floor- to- ceiling glass window that lets in an exceptional amount of natural light. This is my favorite spot to set up for shots. The interior is nothing fancy. The walls are concrete, and in some places there are patches of exposed brick. I recently had a beautiful mahogany wood floor installed. The space is large and open and everything flows together. I have several set up's throughout the studio, some consist of a simple backdrop and some are more opulent. The far left wall is covered with large canvases of my favorite pieces I have done throughout the years, as well as my awards and publications. I mostly use the east side of the warehouse to store all of the props and equipment that I am not using. Antique chairs, winged sofas, baskets, buckets, stools, backdrops and floor drops in every color. I suppose I would come across as a packrat to anyone who isn't familiar with fine art portraiture and the many pieces that are used to achieve a desired look. I take a few steps farther into the warehouse and flip the lights on as I go. The building comes to life as everything becomes illuminated by the horrendous florescent lights that hang down from the ceiling from long steel cables. I refuse to shoot with florescent lighting, that's why most of the time; the lights remain off while I am in the studio. We have several light stands and soft boxes set up throughout the studio. They put out a soft diffused light that is perfect for photographing. My computer is located in the far right corner of the large space; it sits on a simple desk and is open to the rest of the room. I make my way over to it, flipping it on as soon as I take a seat. I am behind on my editing and I have a publication due in two days. I may have been slacking. Instead of staying in late and post processing all the images from the session, I went out with Rose and the rest of the crew to have a few drinks. A few drinks turned into a few more and I now have a raging hangover and at least six hours of editing ahead of me.
You may as well get comfortable.
I pull out my cell phone from my brown leather camera bag and look at the time. It's just going on seven in the morning. I have an hour before the crew will start stumbling in, as hangover as me.
I have five people on my payroll at the moment. Jake is my equipment operator. He moved all the heavy equipment and furniture to the correct places and makes sure everything is secure and stable. Rosalie is my best friend and my receptionist. She deals with all of the phone calls, walk- in's and appointment bookings. I don't know what I would do without her. Angela is my assistant. She helps tweak things around during my sessions and is especially helpful when I am posing newborns or older babies. Ben is my manager. He deals with all the social crap that I hate dealing with. He keeps my work up to date and in the hottest magazines. He markets my work and stems the flow of calls for interviews, mentorships and photography advice. Not that I don't enjoy helping others who are just starting out. I really love mentoring in fact. I just cannot help everyone and it becomes too much to deal with after a while. I answer emails on a weekly basis from other photographers who have questions and want insight. I just cannot answer them all. Most of them ask what equipment I use, what my camera setting are for a particular image, how I get the lighting the way it is or how I managed to make my photography business successful. After a while I just put a section on my website that list's all my equipment and some pointers for shooting and post processing images. This helped a little, but I still get a ton of emails and calls weekly. Alec is my tech guy. He deals with my entire website, social media and blog updates. He rarely comes into the studio though, unless he needs something in particular. I let him work from home.
I am currently working on a maternity shoot that is going to be published in Vanity Fair with an article about the celebrity baby boom. Apparently, everyone is having babies left and right and in case someone hasn't noticed, Vanity Fair wants to create an article to inform the masses. I could care less about the article. I only care about the photos. I open up Photoshop CS6 on my computer and access the files from yesterdays shoot. Heidi Valdez is a world famous model who is having her first baby in a month. If you ask me, she is a tad bit too skinny and toned for someone who is getting ready to give birth, but my opinion doesn't matter. She was an excellent model during the session and I got some breathtaking images with her and her fiancé, famous soccer player Demetrio Agresti. I chose a simple beige background for the majority of the session. Heidi wore a simple pair of off white lace booty shorts and a piece of lace fabric wrapped artfully around her breasts. Demetrio donned a pair of faded and ripped designer jeans that hung low on his narrow hips and showcases his toned body. Some of the images were more contemporary, with a simple hand placed over a bulging belly. Some were much more sexual. My favorite was a shot of the couple on a four poster bed that was covered in simple white cotton sheets. Demetrio was leaned back against the headboard with his soon to be wife sitting between his legs. He had his head dipped down, as if to whisper a secret in her ear. Her head rested back on his shoulder. Her eyes were closed and her lips had a slight pout to them. Demetrio's thumbs were hooked into the front of Heidi's lace boy shorts, the weight tugging them down just a hint.
I already knew I wanted this image to be in a stark black and white. I started a new layer in Photoshop and began adjusting the levels accordingly. When I was satisfied with my work, I added my favorite black and white action to the photo and saved the image onto my hard drive. It was one for the walls. I would have to ask Rose to order a canvas print for the studio.
At 8:00 am on the dot, Rose slides open the large metal door to the studio and drags herself across the room to my desk. Her hair is up in a messy bun and she is wearing her largest pair of Prada sunglasses. She is unusually dressed down, wearing a pair of artfully faded skinny jeans and a red v-neck t shirt. She has fluffy white slippers on her feet.
"I feel like shit" She groans loudly. Taking her sunglasses off and wincing at the bright florescent lights.
I try to hide my amused smirk while taking the Starbucks cup she is holding out to me.
"Yeah… well you look like shit too." I say with a snort.
"What the hell happened to you last night? I tried calling you and you never answered." I say with a raise of my brow.
Rose lets out another groan before plopping down onto my desk.
"Royce" She says before taking a sip of her coffee.
Royce King is Rose's on again and then off again boyfriend. They are usually only on again when Rose is drunk. Lately she has been seeing him more and more and I have to wonder what is going on that is making her return to old habits.
"Isn't this like the third night this month you have spend with him? What's up with that?" I am not ashamed of being nosy. Rose and I share just about ever dirty secret there is with one another. We have been friends since college. She was the first model I ever had the opportunity to photograph and we hit it off right away. She doesn't model anymore, not that she couldn't. She is absolutely gorgeous in every meaning of the word. Now she helps out at the studio and teaches yoga three times a week at the local rec center. She claims she is happy but I don't believe her. Something is not right. Her eyes are tired and she has dark bags underneath them, her eyes don't sparkle that familiar aqua marine blue and her jeans are a little too loose. I don't know what she is hiding from me, but if she is hiding it, it must be bad.
Before I can dig any deeper, Jake comes walking in. He is dressed in his usual dark jeans, white cotton shirt and motorcycle boots. His hair is perfectly coifed and his russet skin has a slight luminance to it. He places his bike helmet in the small utility closet next to the bathroom and turns toward us.
He doesn't show any outward signs of being hung-over or tired.
Asshole.
"Good morning ladies." Jake smirks.
"Not looking so hot there Bells, one too many tequilas?"
"I hate you Jake."
"No you don't. You're just jealous."
"Only of your ability to handle copious amounts of hard liquor and still show up to work looking like one of those well rested assholes on the Tempur-Pedic commercials."
"Maybe it's because I have a Tempur-Pedic mattress" he winks.
"You're lying" I narrow my eyes in suspicion.
"Well maybe if you took me up on that offer, you might find out." Jake counters with a cheeky grin.
Rose perks up at that statement, moving her gaze from Jake to me and then back again.
"What offer?" Rose's eyes flash with mischief.
I blush ten shades darker and turn my head, feigning a sudden interest in my computer screen.
I cannot believe he had the balls to mention it after so long.
During my sophomore year in college, I met Jake at a frat party my roommate had taken me to. I may have drank a little too much.
OK…yeah. I drank way too much.
One thing led to another and the next thing I know I was half naked in some frat guys room, rehearsing to become the number one slut on campus. I can remember the exact moment I knew it was going to all go bad and backfire on me. Backfire it did. Somewhere between alcohol induced kisses and my top being removed, I felt a sudden wave of nausea. I set up quickly, throwing Jake off of me in the process. The room was spinning and I felt off balance. Knowing I wasn't going to make it to a bathroom in time, I grabbed the wastebasket located next to Jake's computer desk and heaved into it.
Sexy, I know.
Jake and I slowly became friends over time, seeing each other at the same social events and running in the same circles. We both chose to ignore the awful memory of our drunken night. But the sexual attraction just wasn't there. At least not for me.
Last spring had been a busy time for me, I had just scored an ad campaign with True Religion, bought the new studio and was going through a divorce. After hitting up a few clubs one night with Rose, Jessica and Lauren, I was sufficiently drunk. I called Jake to come pick me, Rose and Jessica up after Lauren ditched us for some guy she had picked up a few clubs back. Jake dropped Rose and Jess off first, since they lived on the other side of town. I told Jake to drop me by the studio. My car was still in the parking lot and I could sleep it off in the studio and head home in the morning. What really ended up happening was vastly different from what I had planned.
I had somehow misplaced my keys at the club and was unable to get into my studio or my car. Jake offered to drop me off at home instead. At this point I was really feeling the alcohol. The rest of the night is a fuzzy blur. All I know is that I woke up in my bed, next to a very naked Jacob Black. The only reminders I had of the events that happened that evening were a large hickey on the side of my neck and a used condom in the bathroom wastebasket. It must have been a memorable night for Jake though, because he hasn't stopped asking me out on dates or to his house ever since. He doesn't mind my rejection at all it seems. He is persistent but not in an obnoxious way, and for that I am grateful. A part of me wishes I could feel that same attraction for Jake. My life would be so much easier. He is a great guy. He is sweet and caring and hilarious. He may be somewhat promiscuous at times but I have seen him hold down a couple serious relationships in the past. He is reliable and stable and everything a woman my age should be looking for in a partner.
But the spark is just not there. Having already had one failed marriage, I don't want to travel down that road again.
The studio phone begins to ring, bringing me out of my head.
"Me and you will discuss this later" Rose points her finger at me before heading off to answer the phone.
"Sorry, Bella. I thought she knew" Jake says sheepishly. I can also detect a touch of hurt in his eyes. It takes me a moment to gather my words. When I look up to reply to Jake, he has already left.
Way to go Bella.
I spend the rest of the afternoon editing and retouching photos. At noon, Rose saunters back over to me. At first I feel anxious because I really don't want to recount the entire events of my drunken night with Jake. Lucky for me, she doesn't even mention it. Instead she informs me that my photography apprentice is unable to travel to Chicago.
"She said she really was looking forward to doing the mentorship but she thinks it is more important to focus on her pregnancy at this time." Rose finishes explaining the extenuating circumstances to me.
"That's too bad. Her work was pretty good. Maybe we could find someone local since we are on such short time now?" I wonder aloud.
"I can contact Cambridge Art Academy. They have some really talented students at that school and I'm sure we can find someone who is up to the challenge" Rose suggests.
"That's a high school right?"
"Yeah, a really prestigious high school with a limited number of students from around the country, Bella. They only accept the best of the best."
"Or the richest of the richest" I counter.
Rose rolls her eyes at me.
"Ok, yeah. Call Cambridge and see what you can do. If this doesn't work out, I can just skip the mentorship program this year." I say while swinging my purse over my shoulder.
"Bella, you can't just skip it. Do you have any idea what the Professional Photographers Association will say about that?"
"So what, one year I don't 'contribute to the photographic art community' I think we will live if I don't mentor someone this year. Plus, I have a good explanation for it not doing it this year, my apprentice got knocked up and can't travel to Chicago" I shrug my shoulders.
"You really want to piss them off more? As if not letting their beloved Jane Turner photograph you wasn't enough!" she huffs.
"Screw them. Jane Turner is a mediocre sell out who doesn't have a stitch of talent. She made her name off of boning members of council and stealing other people's hard earned ideas. I refuse to let that cow profit off of my image in any way.
"Besides…..Ben says that from a managers perspective, it gives an illusion of unavailability that makes me that much more popular in the art world. It's good for business."
"Bella" Rose sighs.
"You're giving me gray hairs. Can't you just play by the rules for once? What's the big deal? Let her do your memoir thingy and present it to the art academy at the award show. It's only a few photos and a brief description of who you are as an artist. Besides, don't you want your profile up in the museum? I mean, that's a big deal and very few photographers get offered that prestige!"
"No, Rose I cannot just play by the rules. I didn't come this far by playing by the rules. I only learned the rules so I could break them in every way imaginable. Those smarmy assholes just hate that I break every photographic rule there is and still do better work than them. I don't want to be an honored photographer in their ridiculous hall of fame. I don't want a memoir and I don't want Jane Turner taking my photo or claiming responsibility for anything that pertains to me and my art! As long as Aro is the head of the council, I will continue to decline the award and the memoir" I slide the metal door to the studio closed a little too hard on my way out of the studio.
