“You’re seriously going to work wearing heels? What if they want to go down by the beach? There are rocks everywhere. You’ll break your neck.” Nick is standing at the foot of the bed with his hands in his pockets. It’s an honest question, but I’m not taking anything at face value with this guy.
Pushing up from the mattress, I walk over to him. With my fuck-me heels on we stand eye-to-eye. I smile and laugh lightly. It sounds a little evil. “Listen, I know I’ve shot more weddings than you, and, since you copy everything I do, I know that you can’t come up with a single idea on your own. The way I see it, you should put on a pair of heels and kiss my ass. Maybe you’d actually learn something and you wouldn’t have to be a monkey with a camera anymore.” Harsh much? Maybe, but the guy is a dick. He totally has it coming, and I’m not holding back.
His lips curl into a playful smile. “Are you suggesting that you’re a better photographer than I am?”
“I’m not suggesting it, I’m saying it. You’re shooting second this week. Stay out of my way.” When a team of photographers offers coverage for a single event, there’s a main shooter—called first—and a secondary shooter. The person shooting second is typically less experienced and can’t nail the shots needed to shoot as first shooter. It’s a slam at his ability.
“I am not shooting second.” Nick inches closer so he’s in my face. “If you think that I’m going to hand over this wedding to you, you’re mistaken.”
I laugh lightly and tip my head to the side. “How cute. You think you have a choice in the matter.”
His warm breath slips across my cheek as he speaks. “I do, and if you get in my way, you’re going to wish you hadn’t.”
I press the end of his nose like a button, which seems to shock him. “We’ll see about that.” I turn on my heel, grab my gear bag, and head toward the elevator feeling like I handled that very well. I suck at confrontation. Stuff always goes totally screwy and I usually end up making things worse.
While I’m waiting for the doors to open, Nick appears in a black jacket and dark jeans. He looks like a freaking rock star. If Sophie acts like a Ferro groupie and swoons because Nick is at her wedding, I’m going to lose it. Nick is all charm and smiles again as he steps next to me, camera in hand.
“You forgot something,” I say without looking at him. Like all his gear. What the hell is he going to do with one camera?
“I don’t need multiple bodies,” he says it seductively. When I glance at him, he winks. “When I find something I like, I tend to be monogamous. I’m satisfied with one camera and a good lens.”
Another couple materializes from the room next door and steps into the elevator with us. They’re dressed for dinner, so I assume they’re also going to Sophie’s wedding. The old woman has silvery hair cut short and styled in that poodle hairdo grannies typically sport. She smiles at me. “Are you the photographer for Sophie’s wedding?”
Holding out my hand, I smile as she takes it. “Yes I am. Sky Thompson from Bella Chicks studio.”
“Is this handsome young man your beau?”
I nearly choke. Nick thrusts his hand past me. “Nick Ferro from Bella Clicks studio.”
“So your studios work together?”
“Yes,” Nick replies.
“No,” I say at the same time and then glare at him. The doors open and the old couple walks out, wishing us well. After they’re out of earshot, which is like two steps, I hiss at him. “Don’t tell people that we’re working together.”
He shrugs. “Fine, just trying to save you from embarrassment.”
“Yeah, I’m sure.” I roll my eyes and walk away from him, but the guy stays glued to my heels.
“So, nepotism, huh?”
“Bite me, Ferro.”
“Later, Sky.” Before I can reply, he disappears into the crowded lobby.
CHAPTER 9
I try to stop mashing my lips together, so I don’t get labeled as the crazy girl, but I think the shower curtain dress kind of did that for me. People smile carefully at me and leave a wide berth as they pass.
I find the room where dinner is being served, pull out my camera and slap on my 20mm lens. After adjusting the camera settings, I get to work photographing all the little details in the room before everyone arrives.
I have my camera to my face when I hear Daddy’s voice. “Tell me that the crazy woman in the shower curtain everyone is talking about wasn’t my daughter.” He’s standing in the doorway with a big smile, his hands tucked into his pockets. He seems so old and fragile compared to my mother. As a child, I thought my Dad could rule the world and save me from anything, well, anything except my mother. He holds out his arms. “Get over here.”
I step into his arms and feel his hands pat my back, before he pulls away just enough to kiss my cheek. “Hey Dad.”