Pitts Pa.
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Thanks to Lois the Super Beta and Susan the Uber’ Editor….you guys ROCK!
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CHAPTER ONE: Pittsburgh, PA
I can't believe this, I have the fucking most beautiful man I have ever seen in my studio and I am going to fuck this up somehow. But, if I didn't, then I wouldn't be me.
"Mr. Kinney, this will go a lot fast if you would just go into the bathroom and empty your sphincter."
"What the fuck, Lady!" he sneered.
Oh, sexy sneer, click. Oh, my God, those lips! Click, click.
"I am sorry, Sir, but you are giving me a face that says, ‘Hey, I haven't had a proper bowel movement here for a week!"
"I don't need this shit," he growled getting up to leave.
"Hey there Mr. Sensitive, would you mind sitting back down for five more seconds? Mr. Vance isn't going to be pleased that his corporate head shots will be sans his new partner."
"Fuck Vance!"
"Well there is an image I'm going to have to delete from my memory bank. You don't look like bald and short would be your type." Oh, smile and a smirk! Click, click, click, click. He sat back down on the stool and gave me a pitiful sigh. Click.
"This going to take much longer?" he asked, tapping his long slender fingers on his Armani clad thigh.
"No. Have some place to be?" Oh, he doesn't look happy. I looked over the top of my camera at his face, which had just practically slid to the floor.
"No."
"Won't take much more, just, um…do you want a drink, or something, I have a few bottles of something..."
"No, I just want to get this the fuck over with and get out of here."
"Gotcha." I went back to work on the pictures. Click, click. "It might go faster if you smiled, just ever so slightly. This is supposed to be for a brochure that says, `Hey, I am a demi-God of the advertising world. Hire me!"
"There is nothing demi about me." He snorted.
"I am sure. Excuse me."
Fifteen minutes later, I decided to give up. I had a few rolls and hopefully there was something salvageable in the bunch. "Ok, that's it, you are free to go."
"Thank god," he said getting off the stool to leave.
Because I am me, and I just can't help myself, I have to say it, "Um, before you leave I would like to give you the phone number to the local suicide hot line."
"What the fuck are you talking about?" he said, genuinely shocked.
"Oh, you know us photographers. We are all so insightful, we can look into the souls of our subjects and just tell these things. You really need to talk to someone. Bad."
He walked quickly over to me, getting right into my personal space. He was about half a foot taller then me and sixteen times my size in general.
"Oh yeah, what the fuck do you think you can tell about me?" Menacing, scary, broken, I have seen this all before too well. I know it like the back of my hand.
"You have recently been hurt deeply, your face, your eyes tell me that," I squeaked. Why do I do this to myself? Vance just wanted a few head shots and here I was mixing myself up in his business. Again.
"You know fuck all about nothing," he sneered, but didn't move.
"I'm right."
"You're nosy."
"Nosy and right." I stared right into those fucking unbelievably sad hazel eyes.
"Are we done here?" he said, taking a softer tone. Wow, he gave up a lot faster than I thought he would.
"For now. I will be over at the headquarters in a couple of hours after work to take the ‘His Highness and his underlings’ shot under the company logo. Vance said you needed to be there, although I am not sure how attractive it's going to be, with you being what? Seven feet taller than him? Maybe I can bring a milk crate for him to stand on.” He laughed, almost a real laugh!
"Can't you do something in the dark room or with computers to even things out?"
"Honey, I am a photographer, not a magician."
"I thought you were a fortune teller."
"No, I just read and collect souls."
"I am not sure Vance would like it if he heard this."
"This," I said smiling and beginning to tidy up, "is nothing he hasn't heard a million times before," I said about the height thing.
"So you know him?" Oh gotcha! Curiosity about the Vance Man. Mr. Egomaniac wants some dirt on Mr. Egomaniac. And he had on a game face as he sauntered closer to me. Fuck, I wish I had him back in front of the fucking camera. I grabbed my hand held off the side table. Mr. Kinney was in full flirt. My knees and other parts of my body began to tingle. Mother of god, this guy is gorgeous!
"Yes, I know him."
"Personally?"
"And professionally. I have been doing most of the local photography stuff for your company now since he bought out Ryder…thanks for noticing."
"Well I am an idea man, the creative stuff is left to others. But I have to admit that recently the quality of our photo layouts has greatly improved. "
"Oh, fuck that," I said clicking away. I think I got an actual smile with that comment. "You have been in retro graphics land with the Liberty Air campaign and I know you haven't used a photographer for your other accounts since the Brown layout. Which, by the way, I would like to thank you for the great bed side reading material, if you know what I mean." He did and rewarded me with another killer smile. "Yes, you really captured the full spectrum of demographics on that one - women buy most of the stuff and a gay community with a jock strap fetish." He began to laugh and went and sat back down on the stool.
"So, how do you know Vance, personally?" Click, click.
"Oh, now I have heard all about you, Mr. Kinney. Somehow I think if you thought really, really hard, and actually took the time to remember my name you would know exactly who I am." He looked at me quizzically, like he was searching his memory bank for my name in the first place. I thought I'd throw him a bone.
"My name is Cally, Callasandra."
"Callasandra…"
"Callasandra Vance."
"Callasandra Vance, um… he doesn't have any children…" He let that little piece slip out betraying his inner monologue.
"Not any more," I smiled sadly. "No, I am not his daughter. Think harder."
"His ex-wife?" he asked quizzically. They all do that. It really, really gets old but with the age difference between myself and Gardner, I am used to it.
"Yep." Click. Click
"His first ex-wife?" he said wide eyed! Bingo, we have a winner!
"That's, who is his first ex-wife?" I laughed.
"Thank you Ms. Trebeck."
"You…you're much taller than him," he said sheepishly, trying to get past the inevitable mathematical calculations going off in his head.
"Yeah, that's always been a sore spot for him." Brian smiled, click, click, click. "That's the money shot! Ok, go away!"
"Uh…"
"Sorry, one personal bit of information is my limit with Vance. See you at the office." I went and began to busy myself with my camera equipment. Fuck, Gardner wouldn't be too happy if he knew where this conversation had turned to.
"So, I'll see you at what? Five, Five thirty?"
"Yep. Thanks for coming by, Mr. Kinney, I know how busy your schedule is." We had both slipped back into the formalities of the situation.
"Sure, yeah, later." And then he was gone, leaving me to clean up the mess I had inadvertently spilled all over the place. Ugh! Vance would kill me a thousand ways for this. I hope Brian knows how to keep his beautiful, pouty mouth shut! At least it would give him something to think about other than whatever seems to have been eating at his brain the entire shoot.
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Brian
Fuck, his first wife? Shit, she looked 14, how could she be the first one? Cynthia had dug up all the personal shit on Vance after he bought the company and nowhere did it mention he was a fucking child molester. Uh, strike that… those in glass houses and all. I didn't know Vance liked younger women. Well she certainly was beautiful in that beautiful, interesting hetero way, tall, slim, fashionable, fuckable. God, it's a relief to think about something other than Justin. Fuck, can't I go thirty seconds without dragging him into my brain!
I grabbed for my cell and called the office, "Cynthia, batten down the fucking hatches, clear my afternoon, we have some work to do!"
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