Time Exposure (Click Duet #2) (Bay Area Duet Series)

by Persephone Autumn

  “No, Alyson. It cannot wait,” I seethe.

  She locks her phone and rests her hands on her hips. She purses her lips and regards me as if I am behaving like a stubborn child. Obviously, she has forgotten her place in this world. Has forgotten the fact that she only has a paycheck because I grant her such a privilege. Sure, she has other clients, but none of them are as big as I am or as fruitful to her bank account. If anything, she should be vying for my attention. Doing whatever makes me happy.

  “Well, spit it out. As I said, I have other appointments to get to.”

  Beside me, Layla starts biting her fingernails. It is such a disgusting habit. One I tried to help her curb time after time. By the time I finish, she probably won’t have any nails left.

  My eyes dart between the two of them—one worried, the other annoyed. “You’re fired,” I state firmly, not an ounce of regret in my voice.

  Alyson blinks a few times before taking a step back. Confusion mars her face for a beat as she lifts a hand to her chest. “Sorry, I think I may have misheard you. What did you just say?”

  I want to laugh and shake my head, but bite my lip and resist the urge. She heard me loud and clear. Just doesn’t want to believe it. “You heard me just fine. But if it needs repeating… You. Are. Fired.” She jerks her head away as if I slapped her. But before she says another word, I face Layla next. “And you… I don’t ever want to see you again. We’re done. No more fake engagement. No more friendship. I hope you enjoyed the ride because it’s time to exit.”

  Layla goes wide-eyed and stands speechless. She stares at me slack-jawed as her eyes glaze over. A million thoughts and questions flit across her face, but she remains stoic. After a moment, she finally locates her voice. “This is because of her, isn’t it?”

  I don’t owe either of them an explanation after the shit they have put me through, but I answer her anyway. “If I’m being honest, it’s not just because of Cora. But yes, Layla, she is the shift that has made this happen. It was a long time coming, and she gave me the push I’d been missing for years.”

  “You can’t do this!” Alyson yells, not caring who heard her outburst. She points her French-manicured nail in my face. “We have a contract.” Her eyes light up, hoping she caught me in some loophole I forgot about.

  But I didn’t forget about our contract. She must have me pegged as an idiot. Joke is on her.

  “Actually, I can do this. We did have a contract. A contract I had my attorney look over when I told him I wanted to seek a new agent. After some light reading—” I smirk “—it was determined that our contract period ended almost two years ago. But seeing as we had been doing so well together, neither of us paid much attention to that fact. Too bad for you.”

  Alyson is a deer in the headlights. She has no comeback for the truth I just laid on the table. No rebuttal for the fact that we carried on for an additional two years without signing a new contract. This hiccup is a win for me, and a major loss for her. If she would have continued looking out for my best interests, our business relationship may have continued. But greed took hold. And greed loses in the long run.

  While Alyson marinates in the loss of being my agent, I turn and speak to Layla. “You know, we had a great friendship. One I never questioned. We were always there for each other. Had each other’s back. But your ego surpassed your morality not too long ago. And the stunt you pulled in Florida… it’s unforgivable.”

  A lone tear rolls down her cheek, her perfect stage makeup not smearing or running. Sadness hits when I question if I should believe this tear or not. As a model, Layla is an actor. She knows how to put on a show for the camera and crowd. Knows how to make people believe what she is selling. So how can I believe this lone tear is real? That it comes from somewhere genuine.

  The answer is simple—I can’t.

  “Gavin,” she chokes out and sniffles. “I’m sorry. It’s just… Alyson called me and told me what was going on. That you planned to move back to Florida. And I just reacted. I freaked.”

  I shake my head. “You just reacted? You freaked?” I laugh at her, incredulous. “No. What you did was behave like a child who didn’t get her way. Because if I moved away from you, you wouldn’t get to ride my coattails anymore. But instead of talking with me, you chose a different tactic. Chose to be bitter and selfish and vindictive. Too bad it didn’t work in your favor.”

  Her tears flow a little more steadily now. Maybe they are real, but no chance in hell am I letting my guard down enough to question their validity. If my guard goes down, she will push her guilt on me to appease herself.

  “Gavin, please,” Layla begs. “If our years of friendship mean anything to you—”

  “No,” I shout. “You don’t get to pull the friendship card to manipulate me. After the stunt you pulled, knowing full well what it would do, there is no friendship card anymore. It expired the moment you used me as a pawn in some game to keep me. You know what she means to me, and you used that knowledge as a weapon. Friends don’t do shit like that, Layla. Friends congratulate each other when good things happen.”

  In my periphery, Alyson unlocks her phone and begins to frantically go from screen to screen. I told my attorney I planned to speak with Alyson and Layla after the shoot ended, and gave him an estimated time as to when that would be. By now, he has emailed the termination paperwork to Alyson. A few seconds later, my thoughts are validated when Alyson slaps her hand to her mouth and gasps. As if she did not believe me.

  My work here is done. And I have other obligations to attend to. So, without another word, I turn my back on them and walk away. Both women try to garner my attention as I head for the exit, but I ignore them as I push through the door. Already, a major weight lifts from my chest and I breathe a little easier.

  Studio lights blind me as a man attaches a small microphone to my shirt. “Mr. Hunt, could you please say a few words so we can test the mic?”

  I have the sudden urge to behave like a child with a toy microphone. I tap the mic clipped to my shirt a few times. “Testing. Testing. One, two, three. Can you hear me?”

  A woman behind a soundboard with headphones over her ears gives a thumbs up. The man beside me returns the gesture then fidgets with the mic a little more, trying to disguise it behind my shirt. A moment later, he walks off and leaves me to sit on the studio stage alone.

  Before I have too much time to ponder how long I will sit here alone, Janet Maverick sits in the plush armchair beside me. Janet Maverick—one of Hollywood’s top reporters. When she talks to a crowd, people listen. And that is the exact reason I came to her. So my story will be heard by the masses.

  “Hey, Gavin. How are you today?” Janet asks, genuinely interested.

  “Oh, you know. Things aren’t so hot. But I’m hoping this interview will be the fresh start to things getting better.”

  She nods. “I’m sure everything will work out. Just stay positive.”

  A moment later, the stage crew crowd around us. We are asked to get in position on set. Janet and I are asked to say a few last things for a final check of our mics. Then a woman behind one of several cameras begins counting down with her fingers before pointing at Janet.

  “Good evening, Los Angeles. If this is your first time tuning in, I’m Janet Maverick. And you’re watching The Heart of Hollywood. Tonight, I am honored to have Gavin Hunt on stage with me.” Janet faces me and gives a warm smile. “Welcome, Gavin.”

  I have been in front of a camera hundreds of times, but in this moment an overwhelming sense of stage fright consumes me. “Thank you, Janet. It’s great to be here,” I stumble then cough. A stagehand points to a bottle of water beside me, signaling me to drink. Glad someone is looking out for me.

  Janet carries on as if there is no reason to panic. As if millions of people aren’t flipping on their televisions to watch this very moment. Right now, I envy her this.

  “For those of you who aren’t familiar with the man beside me… First of all, shame on you,” she
jokes. “Seriously. Mister Gavin Hunt is a model. You may have seen his work in a magazine or twenty. He has also appeared on the cover of several romance novels. Ladies, check those book covers.”

  Someone behind the soundboard presses a button and some previously recorded laughter echoes around us.

  “But let’s get down to the nitty-gritty,” Janet says. “Gavin, you just returned from a photo shoot in Florida. How did it go?”

  I hold Janet’s gaze, doing my best to ignore the cameras and crew focused on us. After a quick inhale, I answer. “The photo shoot was phenomenal. It was nice to return to Florida after being away for so many years.”

  Janet perks up at this. “Return to Florida? Is that where you’re originally from, Gavin?”

  “It is. I moved out to California when I was sixteen after my mom received a promotion. This past trip was the first time I’d been back.”

  She nods, her face studious over my response. “So, what can we look forward to seeing after this shoot?”

  “I was doing a shoot for Beach Global Magazine. There will be several images with a new line I’m helping them promote. Casual wear for the beach and city. As well as swimwear and undergarments,” I say, waggling my brows.

  Janet lays her hand over her heart before fanning herself. “Gavin, you can’t just say things like that. Now I’m blushing on national television.” She swats me with a small pad of paper.

  “The magazine is set to release at the beginning of summer. Make sure you get your copy. I guarantee you won’t be disappointed.” I wink at her.

  “Ladies, you heard it here. Keep your eye on the magazine stands.” Janet takes a sip of water, then switches tactics. “Other than work, Gavin, how is life treating you?”

  This is why I came here. To expose my life to the masses. Tell my story—the truth as well as the web of lies. I need the façade of what Layla and I had to be uncovered. For all the stories of our perfect “engagement” to be brought out in the light and diminished.

  “Well, Janet, things are a bit rough right now,” I say.

  “Aw, I’m sorry to hear this. What’s going on?”

  “My trip to Florida ended up becoming more than just a work trip. For the first time in thirteen years, I ran into the love of my life.”

  Janet gasps and slaps a hand over her mouth, eyes awestruck. “Oh my, Gavin. I don’t know what to say. Why has it been so long since you’ve seen this woman? And wait… what about your engagement?”

  The perfect segue into clearing the air. Thank you very much. “That’s part of the reason I’m here tonight, Janet. I want to clear the air about a few things. The first thing being my engagement to Layla Hendricks. After running into my high school sweetheart, many things were put into perspective. One of those things being said engagement. An engagement that was done purely for business reasons.”

  “Well, you are just full of surprises tonight,” Janet states.

  I nod. “Indeed. Layla and I have been friends since I moved to California. But that’s all. My heart has always been in Florida. As my career took off, Layla struggled. Our agent got her shoots with several well-known photographers, but nothing boosted her career. After a year, our agent suggested we pretend to get engaged. That my soaring career would lift hers. So, I agreed. Layla was my friend, and I wanted to help her. But while I was in Florida, that favor and my friendship was taken advantage of. As of today, I have cut all business ties with my agent and Layla. And have also severed my friendship with Ms. Hendricks.”

  Janet and I sit in silence for several long seconds. Now that I have said my part—gotten the falsehoods of my engagement to Layla off my chest and told the world I am in love with someone else—relief rushes through my veins. A weight that has anchored me in place for years instantly lightens. With such a simple action, I feel a hundred pounds lighter. Now, I need to repair things between me and Cora. And with my level of determination, I will fix us.

  “Wow, Gavin. I’m not even sure where to begin. If you don’t mind sharing with us, what happened in Florida that sparked this dramatic change? Other than seeing this mystery woman.”

  I hadn’t been given permission to mention Cora’s name, so keeping her anonymity is vital. Although, Hollywood will figure out who she is eventually. But until that day arrives, my lips remain sealed.

  “Janet, there aren’t adequate words to explain what seeing this woman did to me. It’s as if my heart started beating again.” At my words, Janet and a few of the female crewmembers swoon. The visual adds a smile to my face. “When I was younger, I didn’t have a say in my family moving to California. But now, I make all my decisions. And that’s why I have chosen to move back to Florida.”

  Saying the words aloud, announcing them to millions of viewers, sets my pulse to a wild gallop beneath my sternum. But after seeing Cora, after being in the same space as her for a week, there is no possible chance of me staying away. Not anymore. Cora is everything I always wanted. A breath of fresh air. The only person to soothe and satiate my soul. Moving back to Florida is something I should have done years ago. For too long, the flashing lights and starry eyes distracted me. But I have no doubts this is the right choice. Cora has always been the right choice.

  “Well, Gavin. I’m not sure I know what else to say. California will miss you. I will miss you,” she says, smiling wide.

  “You haven’t seen the last of me, Janet. I’m not leaving the industry. Just making some personal changes. But you’ll still get to glance at my pretty face,” I tease.

  “Whew. That’s good news. I’m not sure how my life would continue if I didn’t see you around the city.” She pauses, reaching across the space between us and resting her hand on mine. “Thank you for sitting with me today. It was wonderful to see you. Keep us posted on how things go with this mystery woman.”

  “Will do, Janet. Thank you for having me.”

  As Janet says her parting words into the camera, I review all the things I need to do in my mental checklist.

  Fire Alyson. Check.

  Give Layla the boot. Check.

  Review my new agent’s contract. Still need to do.

  Call Micah. Still need to do.

  Deal with the house. Work in progress.

  As I walk off the stage, my phone dings in my pocket. When I retrieve it, there is a message from the realtor I contacted yesterday. Her timing couldn’t be more perfect. And I take it as a sign everything will work out as planned. At least that is what I hope.

  “Of course, you can stay with me, man. I’d never leave you on the streets. When do you think you’ll get here?” Micah asks.

  Not sure why I was worried, but I am so relieved he said yes to me staying at his place until I buy a new house. Micah and I have known each other almost twenty years, but I had my doubts about him agreeing to let me stay. He may be my best and longtime friend, but how he acted around Cora while I was in Florida had me antsy to hear his response. The fact he said yes alleviates another concern.

  “Maybe in the next few days or so. The house is under contract and I’ll know more tomorrow or the next day. Is it cool if I ship some boxes and my car to your place?”

  “Sure thing. Whatever you need. Mi casa es su casa. Just let me know when they’ll be here, so I’m home when they arrive.”

  The sale of my California house is moving much quicker than anticipated. And I took it as yet another sign. The cosmos are rooting for me—for me and Cora. The stars aligning invigorates me, has me doing things at maximum speed. If the forward momentum continues at this pace, I will be back in Florida within a week. Hopefully sooner. Fixing things with Cora can’t happen fast enough. Being with her again, especially.

  “Thanks, bro. I’ll shoot you a text with the shipping info. For now, I’m only sending clothes and necessities. When I find a place, I’ll have everything else shipped.”

  Micah and I talk for a few more minutes, catching up on other things. After we hang up, I go into beast mode. By the end of the day, ninety percen
t of my house is packed into boxes. Lucky for me, I have never been a packrat. By no means am I a minimalist, but over the years I had no desire to fill my house with endless knickknacks. I suppose I always knew I would pack things up.

  I call the shipping company and set up a time to have the boxes and my car picked up. After, I set up for the remaining boxes and furniture to be shipped to my mom’s house. When I told her how quick things were progressing with the sale of my house, she offered her unused two-car garage as storage space.

  Everything came together with ease. How can I not believe in fate? Everything continues to line up for us to be together again. If it isn’t divinity, I don’t know what it is.

  But as I lay awake in bed, I question how I will fix things with Cora. As smooth as things are going, a twinge of doubt lingers in the back of my mind. It taunts me and has uncertainty creeping in my veins.

  What if she rejects me? Although the chemistry between us is more than obvious, I hurt her. More than once. Hurt like that doesn’t just vanish. What if she doesn’t forgive me? The possibility lingers in my thoughts and gnaws at my heart. Because as much as I have done to prove my promise to Cora, the possibility of her not letting me back in still stands. Which begs the question…

  What if all this is for nothing?

  Eleven

  Cora

  News travels fast in the photography and modeling circuit.

  Only two days have passed since I sent over the finalized photos from Gavin’s shoot to the magazine. Riffling through thousands of images of Gavin wasn’t easy by any stretch of the imagination, but eventually I selected my top three from each look the magazine wanted. Most of the images I sent aren’t my personal favorites—those I kept all for myself—but they are notable and sales-worthy photographs.