Chapter Four
The model was refreshingly stunning, and as Houjun adjusted the lens and tried a different angle of approach, he noted quickly how photogenic she was. He paused, frowning slightly as he surveyed the backdrop, then set the camera down and walked over to the woman.
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Genrou nearly backed away as the photographer came towards him. His knees felt weak.
"What?" he blurted, his eyes fixed on the hands that were reaching out for him. Please don't, please don't touch me, he begged silently. The other man's eyebrows rose in surprise.
"Just let me try something. Stay still, all right?"
Genrou turned to marble as smooth, slightly callused hands rearranged his fringe, pulling down a few strands to the sides of his face. He forgot to breathe when those warm hands dropped to the bare skin of his shoulders, angling him slightly, and then moved to his chin, tilting his face marginally.
"Keep that position for a bit, okay?" the photographer smiled at him and walked back to get the camera.
He should do toothpaste commercials, Genrou thought blindly.
The photographer moved swiftly around him as the camera clicked rapidly. Genrou could sense the passion and ease with which the man handled his profession, and inwardly, he scowled.
It looks so easy. If I'd known I sure wouldn't have gotten myself stuck in some silly old waiting job…
The photographer walked over to the low table, flipped through the forms quickly, then turned back to him with a wink. "Almost done! Just a few more…can you turn a little to the right, please?"
Genrou complied, wincing as one of the straps slid off his shoulders. Hastily, he pulled the offending material back up, looking at the ground so that his hair would cover his red cheeks.
"You're really beautiful, you know."
His head snapped up, and the camera flashed again, blinding him momentarily.
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Houjun hid a smile as he watched a slight blush color the cheeks of the woman in front of him at his comment. He appreciated loveliness when he saw it, and this woman seemed to exude a unique charisma, one that pulled him to keep looking at her, if only through the lens of his camera.
He finished the last few frames and then walked to the side, sitting down and setting the heavy camera on his lap. Opening the film box, he took out the rolled up black-surfaced canister. Reaching for the entry form, he slipped the film into the plastic bag, and scanned through the data quickly.
Tasu Leika.
He would have to look out for her. Perhaps as a model in the future, or something. Shifting his thoughts to the present, he rose, and went over to her, smiling sincerely.
"Through that door, and you'll see Tomo. Good luck!"
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Genrou accepted the bag, hoping that his shaking fingers were not too obvious. He could feel his palms sweating, and his heart was definitely racing.
"Through that door, and you'll see Tomo. Good luck!"
He smiled back weakly. "Thank you." It came out as a near-whisper, and he stumbled towards the direction of the door that the photographer was pointing in.
I can't wait for all of this to be over.
He stepped towards the door and put his hand on the doorknob, resisting the urge to turn around and look at the other man again. Then he took a deep breath and opened the door, entering the next room.
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He stepped into the shower, the dress in a discarded pile on the wet tiles. As the hot water cascaded over his weary limbs, he ran his hands through his thick red hair, closing his eyes and turning his face up to the spray.
That was the most humiliating thing I've ever done. Even if it's for a good cause.
Like you had many other stellar options, the inner voice in his head reminded. Chastened, he blindly reached out for the soap bar.
Okay, then. We shall think of this as a learning experience, no more and no less. He fumbled as the bar nearly slipped out of his wet hand, but tightened his grip on it and began to soap himself. The worst is over, and now all I have to do is wait for the money…
What if you don't win? the other voice sang suddenly.
His eyes snapped open in horror. How come he hadn't thought of that? What if…what if… He swallowed.
What if it was all for nothing?
The image of a heart-shaped, smiling face with deep-set cinnamon eyes, framed by silky-looking tendrils of long hair, suddenly appeared in his mind. The blood rushed to his ears and his face grew hot even underneath the cool spray. He cursed under his breath.
Fine…
Maybe not 'nothing at all' then.
But he hadn't even gotten the other man's name.
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[A few days later]
It was ten in the morning.
In the cool of the darkroom, the shorter of the two men reached up with the back of his hand to rub his nose, carefully avoiding touching his skin with his chemical-coated glove. The dim red light gave a sense of timelessness, and as they moved around the small place, shoes thudding softly against the cold floor was all the noise in the quiet.
"How do yours look?" Tomo asked softly, his gaze fixated on the print in the dish, his long fingers gently swirling the flat square of negatives.
Houjun looked up and across the room at his friend, his lips turning up in a lopsided smile. "As I expected. Nothing really special, actually. Only about one or two," his own hands gently spread the brackish water over the film as he spoke, and as the picture appeared, he bent closed.
"I remember this one," he remarked, more to himself than to Tomo.
The picture was of a fair, dark-haired woman. Her features were straight, elegant and there was an overall classy appeal about her look. He craned his neck and looked at the name card clipped onto the form. Soi Rishana.
"She is lovely," a warm voice breathed in his ear. Houjun nearly jumped in surprise, but he was more accustomed to Tomo's ways than he would ever admit, so he settled for shrugging instead. The younger man had come up behind him so quietly that, as usual, Houjun hadn't noticed him.
Houjun leaned over, his fingers lightly grasping a peg, before he straightened and pegged the drying film to the line hanging above his workbench. The both of them stood there, silently, looking over that one picture at first, and then at the many that adorned the wall of the darkroom.