Page 123 of Who's Your Daddy?

It’s a beautiful garden wedding, small and quaint, with only about seventy guests. I take pictures of every detail, trying to make sure I capture the sheer exquisiteness of this special day. The bridesmaids and groomsmen. The décor and souvenirs. And, of course, the two lovebirds. I get them from every angle. As they say their vows. As they cut the cake. Their love is captured in the way they smile, the way they look at each other.

“You guys look amazing,” I say to Tori as I adjust her dress.

She’s so excited she’s virtually vibrating. After a quick congratulatory hug, I get back to work. I ask her to look over her shoulder with her eyes cast toward the floor and take a few solo pics before I instruct her husband to join her. Walking back a few steps, I kneel to get a different angle.

The couple gets called away because it’s time for the first dance. Shontelle and I follow them inside, and I continue taking pictures as they sway to the slow beat.

“They’re so beautiful together,” Shontelle says, gently dabbing her eyes. “I want what they have. They’re so—”

“Excuse me.” A woman cuts in. “Are you Lia?”

I’ve never met her, so I’m skeptical about answering. “Uh...yes. I’m Lia.”

“I’m Tori’s aunt Mavis. Tori has been raving about you and your work.”

“She has?”

“Yes. My mother, Tori’s grandmother, is turning ninety next weekend, and we’ve been looking for a good photographer. Tori said you’re fantastic, but also reasonably priced. I believe she said she’s paying you two-hundred dollars per hour.”

“Sorry, what?”

My eyes almost pop out of my head. I thought I was doing this for free. We never discussed payment, and I certainly had no intention of charging her for this. I’m just taking photos, for goodness’ sake.

“Her usual rate is more than that,” Shontelle says, subtly nudging me to play along. “But she gave Tori a discount because we’re all friends.”

“Okay.” Mavis nods, taking out her phone. “Well, I’m willing to pay double your usual price because it’s such short notice. Tori gave me your number, so I’m just going to shoot you a quick text.” She types rapidly on her phone. “There. Send me a quote of the different packages you do and how much each of them costs.”

I’m still too flabbergasted to say much. “Sure.”

She squeezes my arm and gives me a warm smile. “Thank you. It was nice meeting you, Lia.”

I wait for her to be out of earshot before I turn to Shontelle. “Why did you say that?”

“Girl, that woman is loaded. You can’t pass up an opportunity like that.”

“But I’m not a professional photographer.”

“She doesn’t know that.”

“I can’t charge hertwo hundred dollarsperhourfor something I’m not qualified to do.”

“Yes, you can. You can charge her double because that’s what she’s willing to pay.” She grips my shoulders to make sure I’m giving her my full attention. “This is what you’re going to do. You’re going to go home. You’re going to look for a few photographers and see what packages they offer and how much they charge. And then you’re gonna drop your price just a little lower, so you still seem reasonable, and that’s what you’re going to quote her.”

I shake my head because I’m still having trouble believing this. “It feels like I’m scamming her.”

“You’re not. She’s paying you for your time and talent.” She turns my body to face the bride and groom again. “Now, stop doubting yourself and go earn you some money.”

I take her advice and do exactly that, mingling with aunts and uncles, snapping as many special moments as I can. As the night progresses, I alternate between partying and photographing the crowd. Tori, Shontelle, and I have a round of shots together because I am the legal age to drink now.

We’re having so much fun that I almost forget about all the things Peter said to me earlier (almost). It’s sort of hard to ignore a heart when it feels like it weighs a ton. I do my best to avoid leaving because I’m apprehensive about returning to a place where I’m clearly not wanted. Shontelle and I stay long after the bride and groom depart for the night. Even Rafael leaves, and I catch a ride with Shontelle’s cousin just after midnight.

The house is quiet when I sneak back in. I tiptoe past Peter’s bedroom to ensure I don’t wake him. The last thing I want is another confrontation. All my efforts are getting me nowhere, so I need to come to terms with the fact that I’m beating a dead horse. I need to stop trying.

After a quick shower, I change into a pair of cotton pajamas, but I’m still too pumped. I’m also equally emotionally distraught and that makes it impossible to fall asleep. I’m also a little hungry, so I go downstairs to fix myself a sandwich. From the drawer, I grab a pen and paper, then make myself comfortable on the barstool to enjoy my midnight snack. As I eat, I look up various photographers on my phone and jot down all the pertinent information on each one. Browsing through their websites, I notice a trend in what they offer and how much they charge. This could be very lucrative if I do it properly, far more lucrative than what I’m doing now.

I make a list of all the things I would need to do to make this work. Things like getting a decent camera, starting a website, taking some classes to learn different techniques. All these things cost money, so I also need to figure out how much I need, and more importantly, a plan on how to get that money while trying to save for my own place.

And with each passing day, it becomes more apparent that I need my own place. Peter doesn’t want me here. He said so himself today. I’ve overstayed my welcome, so I need to find somewhere to live ASAP. I rip the top page off the pad and use the next page to make a list of all apartments in the vicinity that are within my price range. There aren’t many because this area is for the more affluent members of society. After jotting down a few numbers and addresses, I rip off the page and start another list with apartments slightly further out.

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