Page 496 of Rock Me All Night
Epilogue
The most respectedphoto editor in the country is shaking my hand. There are words coming out of her mouth, something about loving my portraits, about wanting to hire me to shoot a feature for her magazine. A feature spotlighting an A-list, Oscar winning actress. Something edgy, with personality, like all these lovely photos on the wall.
I nodyesand point her to my agent. Do I really have an agent? It's hard to believe that this is my life.
A familiar voice grabs my attention.
"Willow, sweetheart, these photos are amazing." Hazel takes my hand and pulls me away from the editor. She scans the walls of the gallery and settles on the first of my dozen pictures—a moody portrait of Tom. "I was worried you'd given up photography to follow him around the country when you turned me down."
"No way in hell I'd give this up."
Hazel smiles. "I'm almost glad you aren't my assistant."
"Almost?" I ask. "What's wrong with my replacement?"
"His ego is bigger than your boyfriend's and he's not even half as attractive." Hazel nods to Tom in the corner, directing a star struck gallery attendee to one of my portraits with a proud look on his face. "Enjoy this night. It's the only time you'll be more in demand than he is."
"Thank God. I'm not sure how the guys do this celebrity thing. It's exhausting."
Hazel kisses me on the cheek. "I'm proud of you honey. Your parents here?”
I shake my head. "No. We're not close. But—" I point to Ophelia, in the corner next to Tom. "Tom's mother is here. She's sweet and badass. You'd like her."
Oh. They're looking at the portrait of Ophelia, the one I took, in her words, to immortalize her one good tit. It gave me an idea—to offer discounted and free boudoir shoots to cancer patients, to help them feel at home in their bodies again.
The demand has kept me busy. Really busy. But it's more than worth the time crunch for the joy that spreads over people's faces as they look at their finished pictures.
Hazel laughs. "You've always been a daydreamer. I'm glad you haven't changed. Good luck with everything."
She nods goodbye. There's someone else ready to talk to me. A fan. I have a fan. It's totally bizarre. I have a dozen portraits in the most prestigious gallery in all of Los Angeles. A showing of my work. For the next six months. The owner is charging outrageous sums for my work.
It's dizzying.
I make it through another five introductions. Then ten. I'm about ready to drop when I feel arms around my waist. My body floods with warmth as Tom pulls me closer.
"You hanging in there, kid?" Tom presses his lips against my neck.
"Mmmm. I'd rather be doing this somewhere else."
"You sure?"
"Positive."
I scan the packed room. It's been a solid three hours of schmoozing. It's overwhelming, everyone here to support me, to see my work.
My studio business started slowly—a few clients here, a few clients there, but now I'm booked Monday to Thursday and every other Saturday. I mostly shoot boudoir but I make time to squeeze in editorials, headshots, even engagement photos. At first, Tom helped with the practical bits, but now I have the hang of it.
I'm a real, honest to goodness business owner.
A real working artist.
His hands go to my hips. "I have something to show you."
"What is it?"
"A surprise."
"Can I have a hint?"
