Tragic
Page 6
I feel satisfied at that because I love making my own decisions.
Like today, for instance. I walked out of that job after they accused me of stealing. They did fire me first, and I could've stayed and groveled, but I didn't. I walked away.
Now I'm homeless, jobless, and broke. But at least I'm not scared and at least I'm not broken and at least I'm not letting people who know nothing about me dictate who and what I am. Even though I spend my nights with drug addicts and criminals, and probably ra**sts and maybe even murderers—I am less afraid in that shelter than I was at home with my ex-boyfriend.
The noise of a camera shutter snaps me back to reality. "No, don't move, Rook. You're perfect right there."
I take my attention back to the window and the memories, ignoring Antoine. If that's what he wants, then f**k it. What do I care? This whole thing is probably a set-up anyway, to get me to do p**n movies or something.
The shutter continues to snap, but Antoine becomes more and more chatty. Directing me to move my arm, or tilt my head, or close my eyes, or frown.
I do it all just like he asks. Just like Elise told me to.
And I never once smile.
And he never once asks me to.
"What are you thinking about, Rook?" Antoine says later, when he's fussing with his camera and everyone else except that Ronin guy has left.
I look over at Antoine. He's tall and thick. Not fat by any means, just thick. His hair is dark and his eyes are blue, like mine, like that Ronin guy. He's wearing dark jeans and a black t-shirt, and for an older guy, late thirties maybe, he's handsome. Not hot or cute, but definitely handsome in a chiseled jaw and scratchy face kind of way.
I can see why Elise is his lover.
"None of your business," I answer him after my pause.
His reaction is lost on me because I turn back to the window.
"Do you enjoy modeling?"
I shrug. "It's a job."
"Do you have a book?"
I have no idea what that means so I just say, "No."
This time his reaction is not lost on me because he bellows out a laugh. "No? If you're a model you have a book. Show it to me." He pulls out a card and offers it. "Here is my e-mail, send me your photos."
I take the card and meet his eyes this time. "I am not a model and I have no book, whatever that is. I just need a job. The invitation card said $100 an hour. I just need the money."
"Test shoots pay in pictures, child. You don't get paid for today, but I'll give you a CD with your images, just give me your address and I'll send it when it's ready."
I'm the one who bellows out a laugh this time. "Pictures? I don't need any f**king pictures! I need money!" I walk back over to the style station and Elise is watching me with a nervous expression. "Where's my bag? I'm leaving. What a waste of time. Pictures!"
My hoodie is still in the little changing area and I whip the tank top off and pull the thrift store bargain over my head. When I come out from behind the partition I thrust the shirt at Elise. "Here."
She accepts it and I grab my bag and walk out the door.
Pictures!
What a load of shit! I just wasted my whole day, I'm on the wrong side of town, I'll never get back to the shelter in time to get a bed, and I have no money to even take the bus because I needed a ten-dollar coffee from freaking Starbucks!
I descend the stairs as fast as I can and when I get to the bottom I just stand in front of the heavy oak door, unsure of what to do next.
I collapse on the bottom step and start to cry.
Chapter Five - RONIN
Her name is Rook. She's wrecked, those were Elise's words. She and Antoine are fighting over the TRAGIC campaign. Elise says no way, Antoine says she's the only one that can do it. With one look out his door, he picked her. He fell in photographer love with her.
I smile to myself thinking of his words, because I knew it.
We need her.
But Elise has power in this house. Elise, no matter what Antoine says, wears the pants in their relationship because if Elise is unhappy Antoine cannot live with himself. He falls to pieces when they fight.
So we work on her for almost half an hour inside the office. We wear her down, we make promises. We will watch Rook, we promise. We won't push her, we'll be careful. We promise all these things if Elise will let us keep this girl.
We want her that bad.
Of course, for very different reasons. Antoine wants to shoot her, I want to keep her. Antoine wants to take pictures of her gorgeous body and her fragile face, but I want to peel away her layers and see what's underneath. Antoine wants to make her famous and I want to hide her away in my room, under the covers of my bed, under me.
By the time we get Elise to agree to our plan, I'm half afraid the girl might've left, but as soon as we open the door she's there, next to the window where Elise left her. She's looking outside, so deep in thought she hears nothing. Not the dozens of workers who mill about in her immediate vicinity and certainly not us as we extract ourselves, full of longing (Antoine), pity (Elise) and desire (me).
We walk up behind her and still her gaze remains fixed on the people down below. You can just see she's not with us, that her thoughts are spinning and her life is chaos. It's written all over her face and Antoine sighs as he sees it too. I can read these girls almost as well as he can by now—that's my job. To get them worked up—to make these girls feel things—to bring those feelings out. Paint those feelings on their faces so when Antoine lifts his camera he's not capturing the body, but the mind.
Like today, for instance. I walked out of that job after they accused me of stealing. They did fire me first, and I could've stayed and groveled, but I didn't. I walked away.
Now I'm homeless, jobless, and broke. But at least I'm not scared and at least I'm not broken and at least I'm not letting people who know nothing about me dictate who and what I am. Even though I spend my nights with drug addicts and criminals, and probably ra**sts and maybe even murderers—I am less afraid in that shelter than I was at home with my ex-boyfriend.
The noise of a camera shutter snaps me back to reality. "No, don't move, Rook. You're perfect right there."
I take my attention back to the window and the memories, ignoring Antoine. If that's what he wants, then f**k it. What do I care? This whole thing is probably a set-up anyway, to get me to do p**n movies or something.
The shutter continues to snap, but Antoine becomes more and more chatty. Directing me to move my arm, or tilt my head, or close my eyes, or frown.
I do it all just like he asks. Just like Elise told me to.
And I never once smile.
And he never once asks me to.
"What are you thinking about, Rook?" Antoine says later, when he's fussing with his camera and everyone else except that Ronin guy has left.
I look over at Antoine. He's tall and thick. Not fat by any means, just thick. His hair is dark and his eyes are blue, like mine, like that Ronin guy. He's wearing dark jeans and a black t-shirt, and for an older guy, late thirties maybe, he's handsome. Not hot or cute, but definitely handsome in a chiseled jaw and scratchy face kind of way.
I can see why Elise is his lover.
"None of your business," I answer him after my pause.
His reaction is lost on me because I turn back to the window.
"Do you enjoy modeling?"
I shrug. "It's a job."
"Do you have a book?"
I have no idea what that means so I just say, "No."
This time his reaction is not lost on me because he bellows out a laugh. "No? If you're a model you have a book. Show it to me." He pulls out a card and offers it. "Here is my e-mail, send me your photos."
I take the card and meet his eyes this time. "I am not a model and I have no book, whatever that is. I just need a job. The invitation card said $100 an hour. I just need the money."
"Test shoots pay in pictures, child. You don't get paid for today, but I'll give you a CD with your images, just give me your address and I'll send it when it's ready."
I'm the one who bellows out a laugh this time. "Pictures? I don't need any f**king pictures! I need money!" I walk back over to the style station and Elise is watching me with a nervous expression. "Where's my bag? I'm leaving. What a waste of time. Pictures!"
My hoodie is still in the little changing area and I whip the tank top off and pull the thrift store bargain over my head. When I come out from behind the partition I thrust the shirt at Elise. "Here."
She accepts it and I grab my bag and walk out the door.
Pictures!
What a load of shit! I just wasted my whole day, I'm on the wrong side of town, I'll never get back to the shelter in time to get a bed, and I have no money to even take the bus because I needed a ten-dollar coffee from freaking Starbucks!
I descend the stairs as fast as I can and when I get to the bottom I just stand in front of the heavy oak door, unsure of what to do next.
I collapse on the bottom step and start to cry.
Chapter Five - RONIN
Her name is Rook. She's wrecked, those were Elise's words. She and Antoine are fighting over the TRAGIC campaign. Elise says no way, Antoine says she's the only one that can do it. With one look out his door, he picked her. He fell in photographer love with her.
I smile to myself thinking of his words, because I knew it.
We need her.
But Elise has power in this house. Elise, no matter what Antoine says, wears the pants in their relationship because if Elise is unhappy Antoine cannot live with himself. He falls to pieces when they fight.
So we work on her for almost half an hour inside the office. We wear her down, we make promises. We will watch Rook, we promise. We won't push her, we'll be careful. We promise all these things if Elise will let us keep this girl.
We want her that bad.
Of course, for very different reasons. Antoine wants to shoot her, I want to keep her. Antoine wants to take pictures of her gorgeous body and her fragile face, but I want to peel away her layers and see what's underneath. Antoine wants to make her famous and I want to hide her away in my room, under the covers of my bed, under me.
By the time we get Elise to agree to our plan, I'm half afraid the girl might've left, but as soon as we open the door she's there, next to the window where Elise left her. She's looking outside, so deep in thought she hears nothing. Not the dozens of workers who mill about in her immediate vicinity and certainly not us as we extract ourselves, full of longing (Antoine), pity (Elise) and desire (me).
We walk up behind her and still her gaze remains fixed on the people down below. You can just see she's not with us, that her thoughts are spinning and her life is chaos. It's written all over her face and Antoine sighs as he sees it too. I can read these girls almost as well as he can by now—that's my job. To get them worked up—to make these girls feel things—to bring those feelings out. Paint those feelings on their faces so when Antoine lifts his camera he's not capturing the body, but the mind.
