Henry explains the technical aspects of lighting and staging as I move various couches in and out of the studio until he “feels” which one is perfect for the Hightowers. I try my best to follow along but find myself distracted by Jordyn. I can see her up front. She’s on the phone, obviously talking about me. She keeps glaring back at me past the curtain and gesturing my way.
The door chimes again, announcing the arrival of a herd of denim-clad blond people. Jordyn quickly hangs up and becomes this bubbly, animated freak, which is hysterical in contrast to her vampiric appearance. “Mrs. Hightower. It’s so lovely to meet you in person.”
Jordyn, in her long black skirt and black shirt with billowing translucent sleeves, with her purple-rimmed eyes, and lips such a dark shade of red they're almost black, rounds the counter to greet the woman with a handshake.
Mrs. Hightower looks horrified at the sight of this little half-Malaysian vampire, but she doesn’t want to be rude, so she offers Jordyn the tips of her fingers—the fuck-you of handshakes. If this offends Jordyn, she doesn’t let it show.
“Have a seat. Henry will be with you shortly. He’s just putting some finishing touches on the backdrop.”
Mrs. Hightower opens her mouth to say something, but changes her mind.
“Why don’t you head out and see if anyone wants a drink or something. And close the curtain, will you?” Henry instructs me.
After I struggle with the curtain for an uncomfortable moment, Jordyn comes to my aid, but not without an air of smug superiority. How was I supposed to know there’s a trick to unsticking the curtain involving some choreographed arm twist?
“Can I get anyone a refreshment?” I ask the room.
Mrs. Hightower perks up. “Hello there, dear. I’m Helena. What’s your name?”
“Tyler.”
“What a lovely name. Tyler, do you think you can do me a little favor?”
I glance at Jordyn expecting her to be seething at me for overstepping, but she just smiles at Mrs. Hightower.
Mrs. Hightower places her hand on my arm and gets real close, lowering her voice. “I was told that we would get a few options for the backdrop. But the girl tells me it’s already set up.”
I know Jordyn can hear this. I can’t believe how well she’s holding it together. I mean, I want to tell this lady where she can stick it.
“Um. I can find out for you,” I say, looking over at Jordyn for help. She pretends she’s busy at the computer. “Can I get you some water in the meantime?”
“That would be wonderful. Thanks so much,” says Mrs. Hightower.
“How many?” I turn toward the room full of blond kids of various ages who are just sitting there. Not one of them is on a cell phone or playing a video game. It’s creepy.
When two of the younger and one of the older kids raise their hands in unison, I decide that they are, in fact, the Children of the Corn. They’re probably going to kill us all by the end of the session. I glance at Jordyn, who happens to be looking at me, and she stifles a laugh.
“I’ll be right back,” I say.
“I’ll give you a hand,” Jordyn adds. “Children of the fucking Corn,” she mutters, following me into the kitchen.
“Right?” I say a little louder than I should.
She’s smiling and I’m almost laughing and I’m reminded of when we used to be friends a million years ago.
“And what’s with asking me about stuff when she’s been talking to you on the phone?”
“It’s the makeup. Some people are small-minded.”
“Well, then why don’t you—”
“Don’t.” She gives me an unreadable look, grabs an armful of waters from the fridge, and pushes past me, ignoring my offer to help.
I give up.
“The mom is out there asking about backdrops,” I say to Henry as he fiddles with the flash umbrellas. “She says she wanted a choice.”
“She asked you, did she?” he says, mostly to himself with a bit of a chuckle. “Tell ’em I’m ready for ’em. They can ask me directly.”
I nod and head back out to get the family. The door chimes once again, and the tired-looking, gray-haired husband enters with their two freshly groomed chocolate Labs wearing denim handkerchiefs around their necks. Why not?
“Good timing,” I say. “Henry’s ready for you. Right this way.” I hold the curtain back and gesture for everyone to enter.
“Oh, thank you, Tyler. You’ve been such a help,” Mrs. Hightower says. The unnerving children—there are six of them—get up without making a noise and head back behind the curtain. The oldest, a girl close to my age, offers a vacant smile as she passes. The dad sighs, following with the two dogs.
Henry arranges the Hightowers so they look like the perfection I imagine they strive to present at all times. Then he clicks away while Jordyn and I stand back and watch.
I say quietly, “I didn’t mean to tell you that you should change the way—”
“It’s fine.” Jordyn heads over to Henry, producing a handkerchief from her pocket. Henry takes it with a warm smile and mops his forehead. And suddenly, I need a sugar fix.
Jordyn enters the kitchen as I pull a Coke from the fridge and gestures for me to toss it over. I do.
“You and Henry seem close.” I kick the fridge closed and pop my can open. “He’s your stepdad?”
“He and my mom aren’t married.”