I pulled the shirt off the rack that was listed with my name and held it up dubiously. “Uh, hmm, do you think there’s more to it than this?”
The light of the window had the sun shining right through the sheer fabric. It was white, with a collar and buttons up the front, almost like an office shirt, but the sleeves had gathers up the sides to the elbows and tied with little red bows.
Henry shrugged at my question.
“For once I wish Mac was here,” I muttered.
Mac wished she was too, but it was party season which meant we were booked solid. This left her channelling Ripley under the drowning weight of work and us running for our lives whenever we hit her sights. Even Peter, who had rapidly climbed the aggressive ranks of the doghood on our street in just the past week, scampered out of her path.
Bec, a short, fine-boned lady with spikey hair, who looked far too young to be the capable stylist she appeared to be, poked her head in the dressing room. “All set?”
“Um, no.” I waved the shirt about. “Is there something I’m supposed to be wearing underneath this?”
“Nope. That’s it, no bra either please.” She left, shutting the door behind her.
Frog and Cooper let out matching shouts of laughter as I stood in disbelief.
“I’m sorry, but did she just tell me to get nak*d?”
“Pretty much.” Cooper smirked as he took his own shirt off and threw it in the corner. “Get your gear off.”
Frog shrugged. “Just ask Bec if you can wear something else.”
“I can’t,” I wailed. “This is our first proper photo shoot. I don’t want to set the precedent of being labelled a prima donna.”
The four boys slid on their provided jeans and stood around bare chested. In minutes they were done. I’d been worked on for hours.
“At least get the pants on, Evie, then I’ll go get the stylist for you and see if she has something else,” Jake offered.
“Thanks, Jakie,” I said gratefully.
I reached for the shorts on the rack and slid them on as he headed out the door. They were black leather, short, and matched the shirt with their gathers up the sides and thin red ties finished in a bow dangling down my legs. A pair of flat heeled, calf high, brown boots sat by my meagre clothing offering to complete the look. Having come out of hair and makeup, my hair was huge, tumbling down my back in wild waves. Liquid eyeliner gave me sex kitten eyes, and someone had spent at least half their lifetime painting temporary tattoos up my left forearm and left side of my torso.
Jake returned with Bec who was looking harassed. “Problem?”
“Well...” I paused, hesitant to be the cause of further harassment. “I’m not sure about the whole shirt with nothing underneath thing. I mean, it’s a really nice shirt,” I tacked on hurriedly, “but―”
“You don’t want your boobs on camera,” she finished for me.
“Not particularly,” I muttered, wondering if that made me a giant prude.
Maybe it did, but didn’t these things come back to bite you later in the ass? I planned on having kids eventually. They didn’t need to be blinded one day while performing an innocent Google search for photos of their mum in her heyday.
She put her pixie like hands on my shoulders and turned me towards her. “This is completely professional and you can trust us, okay? We’re going to have you positioned so that nothing here...” she pulled a hand away to gesture at my chest “...will actually be seen. You’ll be able to tell there’s nothing on underneath, but you won’t quite see what that is. You’ll retain your modesty while still enabling the photo to look sexy as hell. Is that okay?”
I nodded at her explanation and changed, safe in the knowledge that my future children would be unscathed from embarrassment.
Emerging from the dressing room, Jared did a double take and called me over.
“Uh, babe...” With my arms crossed over my chest, he gave my shirt a pointed glance. “Is this a low budget photo shoot?”
What was he talking about? Porn?
“What?”
His eyes flicked to the guys who were standing around without shirts as they waited for me. “They can’t afford to clothe you all?”
I chuckled as Peter tried to climb my boots and kept sliding off and explained to him what Bec had told me. “Trust me, Jared.” I even added my apprehension about my future children and not scarring them for life.
“Yeah?” The corners of his lips curled up slightly. “How many kids you planning on having?”
“Two,” I announced.
I’d thought about this a lot. One of each so I could take my daughter shopping while my son went off to do some sort of sporting activity with his dad. Terribly stereotypical, but this was my little fantasy, and I could have whatever I wanted. Though said fantasy may not bode so well if Jared and I ever headed down that path together. Jenna had three boys before she finally got her little Mactard.
I visibly shuddered and Jared frowned, picking Peter up and tucking him under his arm. “Only two?”
“Why? How many are you planning for?”
“Four.”
“Four?” I shouted. Maybe four was normal in his world, but in the real world that shit would not fly.
“Ah, any time you’re ready, Evie,” John, our photographer, cut in.
I sucked down my panic and turned to John with a brilliant smile. “Be right there.”
Jared eyed my outfit with irritation. “I’m gonna take Petie outside, okay? Leave you to it.”
Jared left through the side door, and John had me sit on a chair in front of a white backdrop while the boys watched on. “Just a couple of single shots to start with,” he advised.
He pushed my legs around a bit until my calves were spread out but my knees still close together. “Now lean over. I want one arm here,” he murmured and put my right elbow on my leg, “and the other here,” and put my left elbow on my left leg, “but cup your face with your left hand.”
He went back to his camera after he’d finished prodding me into a human mannequin and took a quick couple of shots. He muttered a bit with Bec, and she came over to fiddle my arm and hair around a bit.
“Now pout your lips just a little and look to the left of my shoulder. Put your left arm down.”
Click, click, click.
He walked over and showed me some of the images on the back screen of his camera, and I saw Bec was right. You couldn’t see anything but the mere suggestion gave the shot a sexy vibe.
“Sex sells,” John grinned at me. He went back to the camera set up on his tripod and clicked away a little longer as he called out directives.
“Guys in the shots now,” he called out. “Lights, Andy.”
Frog, Cooper, Jake, and Henry moved in as John’s assistant, Andy, started fiddling with the lights until I was blinded as they cast huge shadows on to the white backdrop.
“Evie, in the middle please. Jake and Henry, on either side. Frog and Cooper, I want you sitting straight-legged in front, hands on the floor behind you. Andy, come grab this chair out of the way will you? Right, Evie, face me. Henry, I want you facing Evie. Put your arm across her chest. Jake, stand slightly behind. I want your arm slung across her back shoulder.”
Click, click, click.
More directives, a bit of fuss with everyone’s hair from Bec, and a pat at some shine.
I didn’t whine but this wasn’t my idea of fun. I was starving but couldn’t eat anything for fear of ruining my made up face or spilling something on the tattoos the poor artist had sweated blood and tears for. Not to mention it was hot and sweaty under the bright lights that were aimed our way.
John decided he would alleviate that particular problem by telling me to lose the shirt.
I balked. “Um, sorry?”
“Evie?”
“Yeah?”
“Won’t see anything okay?”
I turned around when the hive of people were removed from the room and unbuttoned my shirt, sliding it off, wondering what the hell I was doing and hoping I could trust John like he said. I tucked my arms across my chest modestly and turned back around as the guys all looked everywhere but at me.
“Right,” John walked over and grabbed the shirt out of my hands and tossed it over on a chair, rubbing his chin in contemplation. “Jake or Henry,” he muttered. “Henry’s pretty, but Jake’s bigger.” He kept muttering to himself, and I laughed at the comment.
“Oi.” Henry elbowed me.
“Frog, Cooper, I want you both standing,” John ordered and rubbed his chin. “Evie, I want you and Henry facing each other and in close. Put your arms around his neck. Henry put your hands in the back pockets of Evie’s shorts. Jake, face me but I want you to put your elbow on Evie’s shoulder and rest your head on your hand, cross your leg over. Frog, next to Jake but face the other way, looking at me. Cooper, next to Henry please. I want you to fold your arms, chin up, face me.”
We all shifted into the requested positions, and Henry’s eyes hit the ceiling as I awkwardly pressed my bare chest against his and slid my arms around his neck. It felt wrong, like I was hugging my brother.
John went back to his camera.
Click, click, click.
“Evie, head up a little.”
I glared at Henry as he gave me an odd look. It wasn’t like I hadn’t gotten down to my underwear in front of the boys on numerous occasions in backstage dressing rooms, but having my nak*d chest mashed all over Henry’s had never been on my bucket list.
“You better not be enjoying this.”
“Evie, look at me please. Henry, I want you to keep looking at Evie,” John ordered.
I looked at John.
Henry smirked. “Please, Chook, it’s like hugging a man.”
Jared chose that inopportune moment to return through the side door with Peter, and by inopportune I meant extremely shitty timing if the unhappy expression on his face was anything to go by. I didn’t blame him. If I found him hugging a half-naked girl for some photo, I’d be more than unhappy. I’d likely be blinded by the haze of red flooding my vision.
Click, click, click
“Chin up, Jake. Frog put your hands in your pockets.”
Click, click, click.
“Jake, I want you to shift so your front is pressed against Evie’s back and look at me. Frog, Cooper, both move in closer.”
After an eternity, whereby man had evolved into space aliens and buildings had been levelled under the melting of the Arctic, John announced that we were done.
By the time I removed the gunk from my face and body and re-dressed, the boys were peeling out of the parking lot in my Hilux, and Jared was leaning by his Porsche waiting, hands slung on the loops of his jeans, black Raybans covering his eyes. Peter was happily chewing the grass at his feet, oblivious to the tense vibe I felt emanating from Jared.
I watched him carefully as I walked over, feeling an odd little nudge that scratched the back of my mind. Nothing serious but I was left with the feeling that maybe this thing with Jared and I was moving a little too quickly.
I adjusted the strap on the bag hanging over my shoulder. “So…”