Total pages in book: 121
Estimated words: 113880 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 569(@200wpm)___ 456(@250wpm)___ 380(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 113880 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 569(@200wpm)___ 456(@250wpm)___ 380(@300wpm)
“I didn’t sign up for photos,” Russell says.
Kirsty waves her hand like she’s swatting away a blowfly. “It’s in the contract, darling.”
Russell closes his eyes slowly and inhales a breath through flared nostrils. I didn’t know there was a photo clause either, but then again, understanding contracts isn’t my thing and I was more interested in getting paid for a week's vacation and anything else didn’t really register.
“I think there’s a way that whoever doesn’t want to be in direct shots could be made comfortable,” Oliver says, as though he has a say in this. The guy has an inherent sense of his own importance that is annoying, but I’m envious of.
“Yes,” Kirsty says, deflating a little. “Of course. You can keep your baseball cap on and we can shoot you from behind. It’s just so readers get a sense of the men we’re featuring. A little mystery could add a lot to the allure.” The last part is her rescuing herself from backtracking. Allie’s mouth twitches.
Point one for Oliver. Russel’s relieved, but I wonder how many of us can request the same concession.
Allie hovers behind Kirsty with a level of deference that doesn’t suit her at all. This is her show, and she’s sitting back and letting someone else come in and direct it. There’s nothing worse than managers like this. They delegate, but only until the project is interesting enough for them to want to get involved again. Like, they leave the baking to someone else, and then want to come in to do the icing and flourishes.
Allie deserves to make the whole frickin’ cake. She’s going over and above on this project, although I don’t think she’s going to be transparent about just how far she is going.
“Jonathan,” Kirsty calls, not bothering to look around to see where the cameraman actually is in the room. “Take a look around and let me know where you think the best shots can be achieved. I want to maximize the glamor and luxury so that people associate that with the magazine.
Jonathan doesn’t respond, but he begins exploring the place like a burglar on the hunt for jewels. Allie takes a few steps in his direction, but with one wave of Kirsty’s hand, is stopped in her tracks. “Don’t bother him. I want you to talk me through where you’re up to, and what your plans are for the next few days.”
Oliver stands, shoving his hands into his pockets, and Allie looks between him and Kirsty, waiting, although I’m not sure what for. There’s a strange thick atmosphere that must puzzle the others in the group because Theron raises his eyebrows at Gabe, who shrugs, and Carson tips his head in Clay’s direction, and he shrugs too. Then, as if it was all a weird blip in time, Allie heads to the stairs and Kirsty breezes after her.
Jonathan is quick to establish where he’s going to shoot first, deciding the pool and the seating area are suitably luxurious to meet Kirsty’s brief. Some of the guys disappear upstairs to tidy their appearances. Russell makes himself coffee and fries up a load of eggs, bacon, sausage and toast which he places on a huge platter, inviting everyone to help themselves. I dig in and try to make small talk with him, but it’s tough. He’s a one-word response kind of man who seems wound so tightly it’s impossible to get him to relax. I’ve known guys like him before. Guys who carry invisible wounds from their time in service. Guys who don’t want to open up to anyone about their experiences. I’m thankful that I’ve been open to my family’s support and allowed them to steer me for help when I’ve needed it. I just hope that Russell will be able to do the same at some point. Before we leave, I’ll talk to him and try to make him see the benefit in being open.
Before Jonathan can begin taking photographs, he calls Kirsty to make sure she’s happy. The boss appears, with a flushed but showered Allie trailing behind, clutching ten purple penises in her arms, and moves the photographer's tripod a total of three inches to the left. She then gives everyone instructions about how to pose while looking natural. I don’t get the concept of fake natural posing. Why not just get us to have a good time and snap away?
It’s awkward to see Allie grimacing behind Kirsty, as though everything she was hoping to achieve through this piece of work is being trampled by her boss’s stiletto heels. It’s worse to see how the photography process makes everyone stiffen and become competitive in a way they weren’t before. Oliver somehow seems to avoid getting into almost every shot by taking a call, and then needing to use the bathroom. Kirsty doesn’t seem to notice and by the time he’s back, Jonathan is packing away his equipment and Kirsty is blathering on to Allie about ensuring she gets a first draft over to her before leaving the beach house.