Page 346 of Rock Me All Night
My cheeks flush. I'm nervous enough that the rejection only barely stings. Tom is quite the subject. I mess with the blinds until the lighting is just right and snap half a dozen shots.
"What's the point of these?" He sets his elbow on the table, leans against his palm, bored.
Impatient, demanding Tom. He looks great on the screen. The pictures are bursting with personality and he's barely doing anything.
"Practice for me." I line up the condiments and take another few shots. "You owe me for that paying for me bullshit."
"How can I owe you for paying for you? That doesn't make sense."
"You know it does."
He smirks. There. Photographic evidence that he knows he's wrong! Ha. My triumph is over quickly. Tom grabs the camera from my hands and taps a few buttons on it.
I try to grab it back but he stands and holds it up.
"Don't look at those," I say.
"You take naked self-portraits?"
"No."
"Then why not?"
I struggle to come up with an explanation. My pictures are personal, but I need to get over that if I'm ever going to be a professional. "Never mind. It's fine."
"These are good too." He hands back the camera. "I have a proposition for you. We have a photographer for our shows. Hazel. She's been talking about taking on an assistant for the tour. Would you be interested?"
"Hazel as in Hazel Alexander?" She's a legend of portrait photography.
"Yeah, that's it."
God, yes. I almost bite my tongue. I almost forget how to breathe. "Yes. Of course."
"Cool. I'll call her after we eat."
"Call her now."
He cocks a brow. "Demanding again."
"Call her now, please."
"Maybe… not sure what I get out of it." He smiles. "Maybe if you make it worth my while."
"Anything."
"Thought you'd say that."
God, his look is smug. I want to slap him and kiss him at the same time.
Tom shifts back, slides his knees open to thatblow meposition. "I need to do a little work rehabbing my image. Since my—" He motions to his crotch. "Haven't been going home with lingerie models on my arm. Tabloids are forgetting how much they love me."
"So, what, you need to go to the clubs and dance with other celebrities?" I ask.
"And I need someone to capture it." He points to me. "Someone who will look natural on my arm." His eyes scan my body. "No offense. Cause you look good in that tight sweater. But the women I have on my arms tend to dress a bit more—"
"Slutty?"
"Tsk. Tsk." He shakes his head in mock outrage. "So judgmental of women who show off their tits and ass."
