Page 108 of With Stars in Her Eyes
“The ‘that’ I was referring to was the photo of Courtney.” Demetrius’s mouth quivered at the corner. “Do you have a portfolio? Of your photographs.Notof stories of cheating photographers.”
“Oh. Of course.” I turned to go to the cabinet in the back and my hand shook as I twisted the latch. At least this was a couple of seconds I could look away from him and freak out silentlyabout the fact that Demetrius Adeyemi was standing in my tiny work-in-progress photography studio. The two portfolios were pushed into the way back since I had compiled them years ago while considering pursuing that type of photography professionally. I hadn’t ever shown them to anyone. One was filled with photos I had taken at local concerts. Journalistic-style film photos of musicians, artists, buildings, and scenes. I had done a little bit of freelance work for magazines during college. The pay had been dismal, and after all the rejections, I had given up thinking I had any talent for it at all. It was right before I decided to go into piercing. The second portfolio was filled with astral photography and nature scenes. This one hadn’t been made with anyone in mind except myself. A few of the photos had people in them, but most of them were of spectacular skies and sweeping landscapes.
“May I sit?” Demetrius spoke in the tone the most eligible bachelor used at a ball when asking a debutante to dance.
“Um… of course.” I gestured toward the futon. My mother’s voice was screaming inside my head. “Do you want something to drink? I have… well, actually just a sink with water. But I might have a cup around here somewhere.”
“I’m all right. Thank you.” He paged through my book of astral photography.
My heart was hammering loud enough his musician ears could probably figure out its time signature.
Objectively, Demetrius was an astonishingly beautiful man. I had never been starstruck by Marshall’s friends, but I wasn’t a football fan for the football. I was only a football fan because football was important to Marshall. But music was different. Demetrius even smelled like a celebrity. What was it about some superrich people that they could smell so good? Were there bazillion-dollar secret cologne companies catering to the rich and powerful?
I had met several celebrities while photographing the events and weddings my mom dragged me into doing, but often, they were less… lesssomethingin person. They were shorter or theirvoices were different, or they had more wrinkles. Or you could see the evidence of all the plastic surgery and filler to the degree that they almost looked too uncanny valley to be real. Demetrius Adeyemi was just as gorgeous in person as he was in photos, but beneath the handsomeness and swaggering charm, he was also incredibly sad.
“Where’s this?”
I stepped forward to see which photo he was talking about. “Great Sand Dunes in Colorado. A friend of a friend had a wedding at a large property about an hour away from there. I went out a few days early because the Great Sand Dunes is supposed to be one of the best dark skies in the US.”
“Dark skies?”
“Minimal light pollution. Makes it easier to take Milky Way photos and get the stars.”
“What kind of crew did you have with you when you took these of Courtney?” He pointed to the photo I was still holding in my hand.
“Crew?”
He nodded.
“It was more of an impromptu thing. We went out—drove out to this place a few hours away from here.” I pointed to the ground rather idiotically. “I was just trying to get a star-trail shot, but we tried something else.” I held the photo up in the window light and saw new details I hadn’t noticed before.
Courtney was a different kind of beautiful from Demetrius. She was obviously stunning while performing as Kestrel, but it was no wonder I hadn’t recognized her. Photos didn’t do her justice.
“So it was just you?”
“And my camera.” My nerves had calmed enough to smirk. “Several cameras actually. This was on film, and I do most of my work on film, but I do some work on digital too.”
“How much do you charge?” He gestured to both portfolios.
“Oh… I don’t do that professionally.”
“But if you did.”
“I guess it would depend on what you were looking for. I really have no idea.”
“How far is this place from Red Rocks outside Denver?” He pointed to the photo over the sand dunes.
“Several hours maybe?”
“We have a show there on October sixteenth and then a few days off. Let me know if you’d be interested in coming out and taking photos of the show and then traveling to the sand dunes and taking some editorial shots.”
My mouth had probably been wide open in shock for long enough to catch a swarm of flies before I closed it, swallowed, and regained the power of speech. “Are you serious?”
“Don’t answer now. But I’ll have my manager get in touch with you. There’s a song called ‘Hourglass’ that’s going to be the first single off the next record. It’s certainly a bit on the nose to be standing on sand, but there’s something about the stars that make you think of the spirals of time, wouldn’t you say?”
“Yes.” My voice came out breathless. “I’ve always thought so.” I reached behind me for the futon to keep me upright. “I need to be honest about something though. I’veneverdone anything at this scale. I’m an amateur really. I quit trying to be a photographer because the only photography anyone was willing to pay me for was soul sucking, but this… this would be the dream, but I’m not sure I can do what you’re asking.”
“All artists are amateurs until they luck into their first break.” He coaxed the photo of Courtney out of my hand.
