Page 110 of As The Shifter World Turns

110

BE CAREFUL WHAT YOU WISH FOR

Martin

When I agreed to do this modeling thing I assumed it would be a catalog shoot and done. I knew from an old colleague whose kid was in a bunch of catalogs that the money from that wasn’t great—definitely not great enough to pay a bill, but given my finances it would be good enough.

How wrong I’d been about the entire situation. Stormy, as it turned out, was as big of a deal as he thought he was and that was saying something. He had initially wanted me only for a show he was doing and not so much a model to be seen in his clothing. That morphed quickly into a nearly full time gig.

I didn’t hate the work itself. I just had to put on weird clothing and look confident in it—done. At least that had been working for me so far. It was all the rest of it that was starting to wear me down. I had to be on all the time. Frown in Stormy’s clothing—unacceptable. Look like I wasn't having fun for a magazine shoot—hell no. Say no to a booking—kiss of death. This maybe I will give it a go job had morphed into my entire life.

And it was great. I had enough money to save for a house, I was able to afford Cadillac medical insurance for my family, and I didn’t have to worry about over-spending because I wanted a cup of coffee from the fancy place.

“You ready, Mart?” I hated that George, the agent Stormy connected me with, called me that, but sacrifices needed to be made if I was going to give my family what they needed.

“Yeah. Where’s the shoot?” We were doing an authentic layout or something. I wasn’t altogether sure. The call came in while I was on vacation and I was more concerned with getting a flight quickly enough so I didn’t lose my opportunity. This career was short lived according to George and I needed to make the most of it.

“Low Brow,” he said. It was only after I arrived that I figured out it was a new bar designed to look like a hole in the wall dive bar. They spent gobs of money to make it appear like a shitty, run-down, sticky-floor kinda place no one wanted to be caught in. Had they pitched the idea to me, I’d have thought they were trying to lose their money. The place was packed, a line around the block, proving that my instincts should stay the eff away from bar ownership.

“You’re just gonna chill with some other models and they’re going to capture it all on film.” He made it sound easy. It was not.

Three other men were wearing clothes from the same collection I was. It was weird looking if you asked me, but I wasn’t the one paying the bill. They plied us with shots and beers and quarters for pool, the photographers following us around as we pretended to just be a random group of besties hanging out at the bar.

It was last call when George dropped me off at the hotel and the next morning my head felt like it had been run over by a steam roller. At least my bank account was full.

I checked my phone to see what time it was and it was dead. Getting out of bed to plug it in sucked, but I managed and took some pain pills and downed a glass of water while I was up. I didn’t have any place to be until—I wasn’t sure, but it wasn’t now. I fell back into bed and let sleep take over.

The next time I woke it was two in the afternoon and housekeeping was knocking on the door. I sent them on their way and grabbed my phone to see if George had texted me my schedule.

He had. But also Neil and Toby had sent me picture after picture of them at the park, Charlie in half of them. They looked like they were having so much fun and I longed to be with them, but I couldn’t. I needed to be here, working, bringing home the bacon as it were.

Bacon. Maybe I needed to go hunt down some bacon. I still felt like shit, but the greasy goodness sounded perfect.

I put hearts on a bunch of the pictures and padded into the bathroom to brush my nasty ass teeth and take a shower.

My phone was pinging nonstop as I came out of the bathroom.

George. He had twenty questions for me, but instead of asking them in one bloc he entered them one at a time. It was his way of controlling me and making sure I didn’t just not hear or see the notification. He should’ve seen that being jobless made that added step not necessary. If he asked me to freaking fly, I would. He wasn’t my boss per se, but if he didn’t want me working, I wasn’t going to be working which made him even more powerful than if he was.

I picked it up and started answering each one of his questions. Looked like it was going to take a while.

As I was closing out, I saw a message from Toby and Neil. Toby wanted to talk to me and I threw on a shirt and hit the video chat button and waited for him to pop on the screen. Toby and Neil were wearing matching shirts with sloths wearing hats on them. They looked adorable and like they were having fun. I was glad for that.

“Hey guys.” I waved at the screen.

“You okay, Dad? You don’t look so good.” Toby’s worry reached his eyes. Shit.

“It’s bad lighting and I worked really late last night for a magazine thing.”

Neil didn’t look like he believed me. He’d been less trusting as of late and it was starting to bug me. I’d never done anything to break his trust and he was injecting something into this that wasn’t there. Maybe it was me gaining recognition or maybe it was the money… I didn’t even know but things weren’t great.

“Tell me about your day.” I slapped on my happiest looking face.

Toby told me all about rides and Charlie’s giggles at the elephants and a train that went around the park. He sounded like he was having a blast.

“I’m so glad you’re having fun.”

“It’s not as much fun as if you were here,” he said almost too softly to hear.

“I know, son. But I’ll be done soon. And when I am, we won’t have to worry about money anymore.”

“I never did, Dad.” He looked behind him. “I gotta go. It’s almost time for the show. Love you.”

He ran off as I was telling him I loved him too.

“You really should be here.” Neil didn’t pull any punches. “And don’t think I don’t know what a hangover looks like. Working my ass. You were out drinking with the guys and there’s no rule that says you can’t have friends and have a few beers but fuck you—this is a family vacation and your sons are on it without you.”

“That’s not fair and you fucking know it. I’m doing what I need to do to keep this family afloat and you're just jealous because I’m making more than you.” I hated the words as I said them, but wasn’t able to stop myself from continuing the venom. “And I was working, which you would know if you bothered to fucking trust me. My shoot was at a bar and I’m not hung over. I’m just tired.”

“You look like shit. You’re hungover and no. I’m not jealous of you. I got to spend the day with two amazing kids making a lifetime of memories. That’s worth more than any paycheck.”

He hung up and a text came right after: Message me when you get in tonight. We need to talk when you're not hung over.

I’ll message you when I get home. Love you. I might be pissed, but I learned my lesson long ago that any day might be the last and if something happened to me, he needed to know I loved him. It was messed up thinking, but what wasn’t messed up?

I love you too. Don’t forget to message me.

Spoiler alert: I fucking forgot.