Page 54 of My Five Daddies

Tori

The camera shutterclicks and Dustin makes that stupid look he always does, with his lips pressed out and his eyes narrowed like he’s some Instagram starlet from2010.

“Good, good,” the Italian photographer says. I haven’t heard him say any other words in English, so I’m pretty sure that’s all he knows. “Good, Dustin.Good.”

I cross my arms and Jordan leans over to me. “What do youthink?”

“He looks good,” I admit. “Honestly if he can get his attitude in check, I think he can makeit.”

“I agree.” Jordan leans against me slightly. Everyone’s eyes are trained on Dustin, so it’s a little gesture that goes unnoticed, but it feels good to me. It’s just another sign of our intimacy, growing everyday.

“He’s still a kid,” I say. “I have to remind myself ofthat.”

“Hard though, when you’re working withhim.”

“Definitely.”

Dustin suddenly stops posing. “Can someone change this fucking music?” he calls out. “Who chose this Eurotrashcrap?”

I glance at Jordan. I know that tone of voice. There’s a meltdowncoming.

“Seriously,” Dustin says. “Techno while I’m trying to fucking model for this guy? I hate thisshit!”

One of the photographer’s assistants, a young girl in her early twenties with blonde hair steps forward. “Balducci chose this songhimself.”

“Good?” Balduccisays.

The girl answers in Italian and they have a quick back and forth. She turns back to Dustin. “I’m sorry, he requests that we leave iton.”

Dustin stares at her and I’m already moving. I walk toward him, ready to calm him down, but it’s toolate.

“Fuck that,” he explodes. “This Italian fuck thinks he’s more important than me? Stupid fucking asshole.” Dustin storms off the set, knocking over a rack of clothes in theprocess.

The scene explodes in motion. The photographer looks pissed off as he converses with his little harem of cute, female associates and helpers. Jordan looks at me and I sigh as I follow Dustin through a side door and into an emergencystairwell.

“The nerve,” Dustin says, still fuming. “I’m the talent. He should be making me happy. Nobody takes meseriously.”

“We all take you seriously,” I say to him. “That guy is just Italian. He didn’tunderstand.”

“He understood. He just didn’tcare.”

I sigh. “He’s good, Dustin, really good. He’s going to make you lookgreat.”

“So the fuck what? Fire him. How many photographers are there in theworld?”

I glance back as Jordan steps through the door. Dustin leans up against the railing, crossing his arms impatiently. “He’s here now, and we need to get this done,” I tell him. “We could find someone else, but it’s too late for that. We’ll never use him again, but we need to get this donenow.”

“The only thing we need to do is make music,” Dustin says. “All this other stuff is just corporate bullshit. And I’m notcorporate.”

I can’t believe he’s saying this. Dustin is the least creative person in the world. He’s talented, sure, but he’s not exactly a musical genius. But again, I have to remind myself that he’s just a kid. He doesn’t know what the hell he’s talkingabout.

“Dustin, listen.” Jordan steps down toward us. “If I agree to give you an extra week in the studio, will you finish thisshoot?”

Dustin perks up at that. “A wholeweek?”

Jordan nods. “You can record your own stuff, if youwant.”

I can see his eyes brighten. “Okay,” he says. “You got adeal.”

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