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HEIDI

“ I just feel like if I could take the same quality photos on my phone, I shouldn’t have to pay you,” the Karin in front of me says as she places her grown-out manicured hand on her hip.

I sigh, placing my camera on the table. “They’re different qualities though. You’re just looking at the photos from my small screen.”

She shakes her head. “It’s the same.”

I bite my cheek in an attempt to keep from snapping. “What would you like me to do here, ma’am?”

“I’d like to get my money back.”

“The money you paid for the non-refundable deposit?”

She nods.

I scoff.

Photography seems to be a dying art, and every single month I see this more and more often. People who go through all the trouble of hiring a photographer for their children’s engagement, graduation, or wedding photos only to stand behind me and take photos on their phones as I direct the posing.

I’ll never understand why these people hire photographers in the first place, but it aggravates me to no end, and I’m never quite sure how to handle it. I mean sure, most people would be on my side if the customer wants to mouth off and leave me a bad review for coming here to do what I was paid for. But more and more, people have been a little loony.

“Fine,” I tell her stiffly as I whip my phone out of my back pocket. “I’ll give you half of your deposit back. The other half covers my time here.”

A complete waste of time, I want to say.

The woman bristles as if she’s going to argue for the full amount, but as soon as the notification comes through on her phone that it was sent back to her, she seems to drop it.

Spinning on her heel she heads off in the direction of her high school graduate, leaving me to clean up all of my equipment.

I lost money coming here. I lost money the other day, too as someone cancelled last minute.

When I first left the agency I was working with, things were good. I was nannying for Briar, I was getting a few jobs here and there with really great pay. Life was going in a really positive direction.

But when Leo got a real assistant, leaving Briar at home and able to look after her daughter, I had to rely on my photography income to pay my rent at Mila’s townhouse, because lord knows I can’t afford to live on my own.

I’ve been stuck between a rock and a hard place trying to decide which is worse: asking my friends or my parents for help.

Trudging back to my shitty little civic, I place my camera bag in the back before tossing the bundled-up reflector beside it. Grabbing the handle to my driver’s side door I give it a tug, ready to sink into the seat that still smells like the coffee I spilled down myself three days ago and listen to my rage playlist, only for my body to ricochet back against the door.

“What the f—” I start before processing the object in my hand.

The door handle.

My car door handle snapped off.

And I’m holding it.

“Can this day get any fucking worse?” I mutter as I walk around to the passenger side.

Managing to get that door open without an issue, I climb into the passenger seat carefully, crawl over the consol, and finally settle myself in the drivers seat.

Only to realize the passenger door is still open.

When I’m finally settled in, I count to twenty, focusing on my breathing with each number in an attempt to relax.

My eyelid twitches, nearly sending me into another rage, and when I finally let go of the door handle I’ve been holding, discarding it onto the passenger seat, I remember that it means at some point I’m going to have to pay to get it replaced.

It’s when I’m finally turning the car on that my phone buzzes in my pocket with an incoming call, Mila’s name flashing across the screen of my radio.

“Yeah?” I ask.

“You sound like you’ve had the absolute best day ever,” Mila says in the chipper voice that makes me want to strangle her.

“I’ve had a moderately fantastic day, thank you for noticing,” I reply, but I can already feel my nasty mood drift away. A blue butterfly lands on my windshield, and I even start to smile.

If there’s one thing that can fix almost everything, it’s my friends.

“Are you coming to the gallery tonight?” she asks as the whoosh of water in the background reminds me I definitely didn’t put my cereal bowl in the dish washer this morning on my way out.

“Uh, I was actually thinking about staying home tonight.” Guilt wafts over me as I purse my lips, knowing what she’s going to say before she says it.

There’s a pause as the running water grows louder, and I know I’m on speaker phone. “I really think that you should come out with us. You’ve been staying home far too often lately and it’ll be good for you. Maybe we can wingman for each other?” she sounds hopeful.

I wrinkle my nose. “That sounds horrible, actually.”

“Come on Heidi, you love going out. What the hell has gotten into you in the last few months?”

My complete and utter lack of money, that’s what, I think. Because it’s true. I used to love going out with my friends. A great dinner out followed by drinks in the back room of Lulu’s with the jocks was my version of an absolutely perfect night.

But that was before I went on vacation with Isla and Briar, and before I told Briar I would be totally okay with just my photography business. It was before I spent half my savings on fixing my camera a small child kicked, and before I had to pay what felt like a million fucking dollars when I broke my finger trying to catch the damn thing as it fell.

“Mila, I don’t know. I don’t really have a night out in the budget right now.”

“You don’t need to worry about budgeting, you know we never pay there.” This is also true. There’s enough men at Lulu’s that we never really have to worry about paying for drinks. And if random strangers won’t do it, Leo or Owen generally pay our tab if they’re around.

But that doesn’t ever take away the nagging, terrifying anxiety of what if no one is there this time, and I’m left with the bill? Sure, it’s never happened. But what if it does?

There’s only so much checking my bank account I can do all day, and after years of hearing about how I need to get a real job with real benefits, I’m constantly paralyzed by the fear of my friends thinking the same thing of me.

Yet at the same time, I’m starting to think that everyone beating that into my head are right.

I do need a real job, and I do need real benefits.

My friends are some of the most successful people I know. Briar has a home cooking cookbook coming out soon and Isla has the gallery where she shows her brilliant paintings that so many people pay twice my whole year’s income for.

Maybe some people just simply aren’t cut out for making a living as a creative, and I really need to just come to terms with it.

“I don’t know,” I tell her, biting my thumb.

“You’re coming out with us,” she states finally. “Come home and get changed. There’s a showing at the gallery at eight and we’ll grab drinks and nachos after.”

We hang up on a sigh, and while I’m pulling out of the park, I can’t help but feel like I’d rather be going anywhere else.

“Have you ever thought about showing some of your photographs here?” Isla asks for the twentieth time.

My stomach drops. “I haven’t photographed anything that could really be put in here.” Taking a sip of my champagne, I silently pray she drops it this time.

“You used to though. Why don’t you start that back up?”

“Portraits pay the bills,” I shrug, clearly leaving out that they don’t even really do that.

Isla’s eyes narrow at me slightly, and I can tell that she’s not going to ever let this drop.

I throw up my hand. “I’ll think about it, okay?” I ask with a smile.

“We’ll come up with a game plan. I really think that it could be huge for you,” she tells me with a smile. She’s always been so incredibly sure of me, but why, I’ve never understood.

The place is packed with two types of people: men and women dressed to the nines with more money than they know what to do with falling out of their pockets, and artsy types looking around for inspiration. I know these types well, because both Isla and I were these people years ago.

I’m still that person.

I can walk into any room and find inspiration. It’s in the woman across the room wearing a fairly unassuming necklace I happen to know is an eternity collar who casually moves in a perfect orbit around the tall, muscular older man studying a particularly provocative piece. It’s in the mom who walked in five minutes ago with her five-year-old only to realize what she’s walking into and take a sharp turn back out the door.

It's in the dim lighting, the smell of vanilla and bourbon being pumped into the room, and the… the men walking into the gallery right now with their hats tipped low.

Men that look strangely familiar.

It’s not until the tall one up front stops suddenly, the two behind him barreling into him, that I realize it.

“Are you fucking kidding me?” Isla hisses under her breath, tipping her champagne back with a rough swallow. Wiping her lips with her arm, she looks toward the men with a killer glare. “I told him to stop with this shit.”

My phone vibrates in my pocket and I whip it out, Isla following suit.

Briar

He said he was running out for coffee creamer, but I just checked and he’s in your area. Keep an eye out and I’ll kick his ass when he gets home.

Leo has been banned from Isla’s showings since the first time he showed up, causing everyone in the area to flock to him and forget all about Isla’s work. It was truly sad and tragic for her and I don’t think she’s completely forgiven him for it even to this day.

But the thing about Leo Warner is that he’s going to try to do the right thing every time. He just fucks up sometimes in the process.

In an attempt to make up for what happened and also show support for his sister, he’s tried sneaking into multiple showings recently wearing a broad array of disguises. Mustaches he definitely stole from Owen, a wig that looked like it was purchased straight from Spirit Halloween, and today, a simple baseball cap.

Usually it’s just him, and Isla sends him packing back home to Briar, who does, in fact, kick his ass. She’s our first line of defense, and although she’s pretty good most of the time, she can’t completely contain the giant, lovable man child at all times.

He’s come a long way in a short amount of time, but if there’s one thing that he’ll probably never lose, it’s the desire to support his sister even when she simply doesn’t need it.

“Want me to take care of him?” I ask with a sigh.

“There’s more of them tonight. We can both go.”

Of course I knew that there were multiple of them when they first walked in. But what I really didn’t take into account is who the other two were.

It’s when I look closer at the massive man close behind Leo that ice freezes in my veins.

And when his eyes meet mine, widening just so before looking away, panic begins to set in.

Emmett Gardner. Linebacker for the Baltimore Cobras, and America’s scary teddy bear after this last season.

Quiet. Weirdly allusive for such a large, terrifying man. Keeps to himself. Hates the press. Loves his daughter, though only a select few people even knows he has one. I’m pretty sure I knew about her before half his teammates, including Owen.

Emmett Gardner is a weirdo.

But he’s a weirdo that I’ve wanted to sink my claws into since the first day I saw him run out onto the field at that first game Isla took me to. There’s just something about a man in uniform—the sporty kind—out on that field tackling other grown men that apparently does something for me, which, if we’re honest, was a huge wake up call for me because what?

I was never raised with football. Never really had it on at home, never really paid attention until Isla and I became close, and even then, I wasn’t really one to take her up on her invitations to join her in the family’s private suite at the stadium on game days. I wasn’t ever against it or really judgmental at all, it just simply wasn’t my idea of fun.

And it wasn’t until I started nannying for Briar that I started getting to know the man standing in front of me.

It wasn’t until our tropical vacation when the season ended that I really got to know him in any real capacity. One magical night of watching a sunset and spilling our guts later, and we were texting almost every day.

And then it was done. I didn’t know why. Nothing had changed. It wasn’t even like we were talking about anything big and important ever, either. We exchanged memes and updated each other with news. I wished him luck when he told me Elara was over and challenging him to a video game.

Nothing really prepared me for him ghosting me, and I was shocked with how hurt I was by it.

And now he’s here and the big dude is practically shielding himself with Leo, who’s just a few inches shorter.

Behind him is Cooper Henry, who I haven’t exactly nailed down just yet.

As Isla makes her way over to the men, I watch as Leo looks everywhere but her, inching away slowly as if wanting to disappear into the crowd.

“What are you doing here?” she hisses, grabbing his arm.

“I’m not sure what you’re talking about, I’m just a citizen of this fine city attempting to buy some art,” he bristles, dipping his head even more to shield his eyes.

“Leo come on, please?” her arms drop.

There’s not much I can do other than stand behind her ready to kick him out if I need to, but my eyes are stuck on Emmett, who bites his lip and whispers something to Cooper.

“Does this look like a showing that I want my brother at?” Isla gestures around the room, and I can see the exact moment Leo realizes just what the subject of her gallery was tonight.

Women’s anatomy.

“Okay, well, yeah I may have fucked up,” he looks up at the ceiling as if he’s seen enough. “Meet at Lulu’s later?”

“Is Briar going to be there?” I ask.

“She’s watching the girls,” Leo responds, gesturing to Emmett.

“You were supposed to be getting coffee creamer, Leo. Go back to Briar.”

With a sigh, Leo agrees and retreats. “I feel like I need a drink after that,” I say under my breath.

“What do you mean?”

“That was awkward, wasn’t it?”

She shrugs with a slight purse of her lips.

Suddenly a man in a meticulous black suit walks up to us, asking politely to speak to Isla about a piece.

I use it as my queue to find Mila, who’s been walking around taking people’s information for Isla.

“Hey,” she says as she takes a check, smiling at the woman as she walks away. “Isla doing okay?”

“Yeah. Leo snuck in.”

Mila gasps. “We had a code 8?”

I hang my head. “We did indeed.”

Mila peers around me toward the door, her dark hair falling over her shoulder. “She looks stressed.” She contemplates something for a second, her eyes narrowing slightly. “Okay, that’s it. We’re going to Lulu’s after this,” she concludes finally as she hands me everything she was holding, making a beeline for our friend.

My lips tighten as I look around the room.

I can do this, I tell myself in the hopes that some day I’ll have said it enough that I’d actually believe it for once.