Derek’s work is always very tasteful and classy, so I hope this will be no different. I’m not a prude, but I don’t really want to see my mother’s assets. I didn’t even see them when I was an infant.
Jennifer changes into the leather trousers she was given and keeps her top on until she’s over at the chair. There is no hesitation. She tugs her top off and hands it to Clara. Hair and makeup people descend upon her, so she sits perfectly still and closes her eyes. She’s a natural.
No one is eyeing her up. They’re all here for a job, and she’s treated with the utmost respect. I stand behind the camera with Derek as he doles out instructions to Jen-Jen. Her eyes are alight when she’s in front of the camera and not just because of the crazy amount of molten-hot lights beaming in her face.
Maybe I genuinely do want to try it.
“Beautiful!” Derek compliments. “You’re perfect, darling. Head a little to the left. That’s it! Hold it there.”
Jennifer’s neck is craned around for her to look back at the camera. If it’s uncomfortable, she’s not showing it.
“Okay, take five. Can someone bring me the Armani? Jen-Jen, you will love this dress. I’ll need you over by the fireplace.”
The set is reworked, so the lighting is perfect, and everything is in place for round two.
My feet start to ache.
“Great! We’re done,” he says after no less than seven bloody thousand clicks of his camera.
Okay, maybe less, but it felt like thousands. Jennifer has been photographed in a number of different outfits and poses.
“Oh, Derek, a couple with my daughter?” Jennifer asks. “Isn’t she beautiful?”
“Judy, get her ready!” He clicks his fingers, and Judy appears.
I’m whisked away before I have time to speak, and then I’m shoved in a chair.
All right, looks like I’m really giving this a go now.
Whatever. You can’t deny that you want to. You’re intrigued, and after witnessing it, you know it’s not seedy.
While I’m being pulled about, I can see some of Jennifer’s photos on the monitor. They’re all stunning. A lady, who I assume is from Vogue, as it’s their shoot, is pointing to different images with Jennifer.
I’m a little nervous. I don’t want her to look at mine. I’m no model.
“What’s Texas wearing?” Judy asks.
Derek comes over and kneels beside me. “I’ve spoken to Jen-Jen, and she agrees that it would be perfect to get you in the same pose. Mother in leather trousers, daughter in leather shorts.” He’s animated as he talks.
I feel hysteria rushing up my throat.
He wants you to go topless.
“I’m sorry. You want me to take my top off in front of everyone?” I splutter.
“Derek, let me,” Jennifer says, floating over to us. “Darling, you saw my shoot. No one will be looking at you with anything but professionalism. It’s discreet. This is your decision, Texas, but make sure you’re making it because it’s what you want and not out of fear.”
A rather large part of me wants Ted to step in. He knows exactly what Dad would say—or shout—but the side of me just starting to emerge wants full control over every decision. Jennifer is right. This is not up to anyone but me. I’m an adult, and I can make my choices.
With my heart trying to shove its way through my chest cavity, I nod. “I want it to be done like my mum’s. I don’t want anyone to see.”
Derek’s toothy smile is triumphant, but he respectfully raises his hands. “Absolutely, Texas. We’ll do this however you like. If you’re uncomfortable at any point, please speak up.”
“I will!”
Oh my God, what are you about to do?
“Why don’t you get seated the way Jen-Jen did? And we’ll set up. I’ll let you know when to remove your top. Clara will be there to take it once you’re covered by the back of the chair. Does that sound okay?”
Swallowing sand, I nod again.
Jennifer takes me over to the chair. She looks pleased but not smug, like I assumed she would be. “If you want that top back on or everyone but Derek to leave, you say. Derek might be the one running this show, but you are in charge.”
“Okay,” I reply. I step over the chair so I’m facing the back, putting my legs either side, and sit down.
“Are you sure?” she asks.
“I’m sure, Mum.”
With a genuine smile that makes my heart further thaw toward her, she backs away, murmuring, “I’m proud of you for taking charge, Texas.” She’s not talking about the shoot. She’s talking about my life.
You can do this. Reach down, and take it off.
I grip the bottom of my top and bring it over my head. Clara takes it along with my bra and backs off. Sitting half-naked, the wrong way around on a chair, in a roomful of people should make me self-conscious, but it doesn’t. I feel strong. The surge of self-assurance makes my heart speed up. I sit straighter, letting my spine stretch out.
You can do this.
The lights are adjusted, and my back heats. My hair is played with, and my face is powdered…and whatever else they’re slapping on.
“Are you ready, Texas?” Derek asks as my hair and makeup ladies retreat.