Through the Lens
Shannon Dermott
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents are products of the author’s imagination or are used factiously and are not to be construed as real. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, organizations, or persons living or dead, is entirely coincidental.
All rights reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced in any manner whatsoever without written permission, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles or reviews. The scanning, uploading and distribution of the book via the Internet or via any other means without permission is illegal and punishable by law. Please purchased only authorized electronic editions and do not participate in or encourage piracy of copyrighted materials. Your support for the author’s rights is appreciated. For information address Wicked Truth Publishing.
First Edition
Copyright 2012 Shannon Dermott
All Rights reserved
DEDICATION
This book is dedicated to my daughters. You know how you are.
ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS
This book would be nothing if not for several people.
First, Danyele Johnson, it is with your editing skills that this book exist. If not for your words of wisdom and writing skill, this couldn’t have happened.
Then, to all my beta readers whose advice shaped this book to what it is. I couldn’t have done it without you. Many thanks to Heather Youse, Michele Hammel and Jennifer Smith, you guys are like gold.
To my graphic artist who did this cover as well as many of my other covers Amber McNemar from eThink Graphics.
And thanks to Phyllis Cox, my editor.
Contents
DEDICATION
ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS
Prologue
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fifteen
Chapter Sixteen
Chapter Seventeen
Chapter Eighteen
Chapter Nineteen
Chapter Twenty
Chapter Twenty One
Chapter Twenty Two
Chapter Twenty Three
Chapter Twenty Four
Chapter Twenty Five
Chapter Twenty Six
Chapter Twenty Seven
Chapter Twenty Eight
Chapter Twenty Nine
Chapter Thirty
Chapter Thirty One
Chapter Thirty Two
Chapter Thirty Three
Chapter Thirty Four
Chapter Thirty Five
Chapter Thirty Six
Epilogue
About the Author
Prologue
People say right before death, your life flashes in front of your eyes. Well, choking and gasping for mine, I can testify that it’s sort of true. But the likelihood of my telling was drifting away as I could no longer get air into my lungs. Coasting into the blackness, I looked through the haze that was my vision and wondered why, why was he doing this.
My life in surround sound didn’t start at the beginning. No, it isn’t my whole life. It started just months before at a crucial moment in my life when I brought my camera up to my face and looked through the lens for the first time.
Chapter One
Blowing dust off the box caused billions of particles to shoot out catching in the air. They swirled and floated around me seemingly to twinkle in the light that passed through the dormers of our attic, creating a show that I couldn't help but watch for a few moments before I got back to work.
“Dad, why did you let Mom talk you into this?” I asked absently. Though of course, I knew the answer. My Mom had my Dad wrapped around her finger.
Laughing, he said, “Jessa, I promised your mother for years that I would clean this place up.”
The joke, however, was on me, because here I was up here with him. Granted it was cool despite the summer heat, but it was still a Saturday. And while Mom was at her bistro, no doubt driving the staff crazy, my life held no plans. Jenna, technically my identical twin, although we don’t look much alike, was off at cheerleading camp. And my best friend Madison was off on a date with her new boyfriend, my other best friend Bradley. Therefore I was relegated to chores like this with nothing better to do.
Opening the box in front of me, I took out what looked like giant CDs. Sliding one out of its slip cover, I blew more dust off its black vinyl-like surface. “Dad, what are these?” I asked with a frown on my face. All the dust had me wrinkling my nose from a threatening sneeze. Just when he spoke, however I did, in fact, sneeze.
“Gesundheit,” my Dad said.
“Thanks,” I said. “Now what did you call them?” I asked because I hadn’t heard over the noise I made.
“Records, albums, vinyls,” he said, exasperatedly.
Giggling, I thought about how my Dad was forever explaining the difference of his world “back in the day” and ours now. Not saying anything, I put the record back in its place and moved to open another box. This time, I pulled out a clear plastic box that held a cassette. The picture that showed through the top had four guys with the words Mötley Crüe underneath it. So I knew it what it was, but I couldn’t help again teasing my dad about it.
“Dad, what about this?” I asked.
Lifting his head from his perch on the side of the other dormer, he pushed a hand through what my Mom liked to call his “Clark Kent” style hair, referring to Superman’s secret identity. “Those are cassettes,” he said. “I’ll have you know those are classics and can never be replaced.”
Mumbling more to myself with raised eyebrows, I said, “Sure, sure, sure. Whatever you say, Dad.”
I was about to take a break, the novelty of this chore wearing off when I saw the weathered brown box sitting abandoned on a stool. This box would change my life forever. A lot of people claim to know the moment when their life changed, but I was sure. Because lifting the camera out of the box had introduced me to the very thing that would influenced the actions that led me here. If only I had been aware that the very strap of that 35mm SLR camerawas the noose that was now killing me at this very moment, maybe I would have put it back down. Maybe I'd dropped it instead of cradling it preciously in my fingers.
Easily, I sank back into the flashback and out of my predicament. “Wow,” I said a little loudly.
But I heard my father move. He walked over to me and lovingly touched the camera. “Ah, this brings back memories,” he said, looking like he was reliving his own slice of the past. “This camera is how I met your mother.”
Now that was a story I wanted to hear. My Mom was an older version of my sister. She had been head cheerleader in high school. She was voted most popular. She was a stunning beauty. She had been in a different world from my Dad. My geeky father was handsome, I guess, but he hid behind his spectacles. Still his bright blue eyes shown through. And when he smiled, little dimples appeared giving a peak into how handsome was. But then again Dad was a CPA not some model. And even though I found him attractive and he would forever be my hero, I knew people thought that Mom was out of his league.
Taking off his glasses, I saw the guy that could stop hearts. And as he wiped his eyes from all the dust I couldn't understand why he would hide behind those things when he was lucky enough to look like that. But he puts them on again, like a shield and said, “I was taking pictures on campus, and there she was. She did
n’t recognize me even though we’d gone through high school together. I’d had a crush on her for years. But behind the lens...she saw me.”
Then he was off in dreamland, still holding the camera like it was his prize possession. I gaze at him absently, admiringly, until I turn back to the box, giving him his privacy, continuing to work while he reminisced. He shocked me when he spoke suddenly. “You should try. Do you want me to show you?” he asked, while holding the camera out to me.
And for the next hour, at least I think it was an hour, too engrossed in the camera to be aware of the time, Dad showed me how to use it. There were rolls of film, so we loaded the camera with it, though he wasn’t sure if the film was any good. Still, he thought I should give it a try. “Why don’t you go down to the mall and take pictures. You were going to run anyway. Today is supposed to be a beautiful day in the eighties. You really should be outside.” By mall, he meant the National Mall which was more of a park between the Capitol and the Lincoln Memorial. Not the place where my sister frequented like a second home. And the distinction, didn't need to be said aloud, he knew better than anyone how different Jenna and I were. It would be nice, and I’d been on a mission. I had been fat… well, overweight. That was the main reason why my sis and I didn’t look alike. She was like a size zero and, well, I wasn’t. We ate nearly the same things, but that didn’t seem to matter, I had been the unlucky one my Mom said I got those genes from Dad’s side of the family. Looking at him, you wouldn’t know it. He was still rail thin like my Mom and sister. And I'd been the only piglet in the family.
Well, that was before. I’d made new resolutions. My Mom had started a new healthy menu at the bistro which helped to inspire me. And this was my senior year. Things could be different. Maybe I’d even get asked out if I wasn’t the fat girl because no guy had ever asked me out before. And now my two traitorous best friends decided to date each other. I think that had been the final straw to break that pushed me to make changes in my life.
So only after a few months, I was running at least two miles per day. I wouldn’t win any prizes on time, but I was doing it. And I’d lost quite a bit of weight. I’d never tipped the scales under average recommended weight for my height, but that was okay. I was happy to be considered “average” sized, not skinny. But no one would call me fat anymore.
“Hey, we can even get the film developed tonight when you get home,” he added, sweetening the deal of having to getting out and doing something outside of the house. Dad was trying really hard for me to have a social life. He knew about my two friends who’d ditched me for each other. Knew I had virtually no one else. But I was honestly happy for them. And I wanted to go, experiment with this camera, but there was one problem.
“Jenna has the car,” I said. I let out a deep breath. I mean she and I got along just fine. We even got along really well when her friends weren't around. So it wasn't like I was somehow irritated at her. It was just because she was in all the school activities, so I let her have the car. And now it gotten to the point that she never even told me she was taking it, or for how long, it become more or less hers. Even that was supposed to be ours ... but I never complain.
Dad just nodded, “I’ll drop you off at the metro then.”
Almost giddy with excitement over having a camera, I didn't think of Jenna, I just nodded in agreement and jetted downstairs to change into my running gear. And with a little over an hour later, I stepped out on the National Mall.
After walking a bit, I took in the sights, not sure what to take pictures of. The great weather brought out people of all shapes, colors, and sizes. It was a mixing bowl of cultures that I just couldn't get enough of.
I quickly take the camera out of its molded case and I pulled the strap over my head. With the lens cap off and back in the case, I pushed all of the excess camera equipment back into my lightweight backpack and shrugged into it. So it was just me, the camera in my hands and the world around me.
Pointing my camera to the east, I lined up my site with the U.S. Capitol. Click. It was amazing history that stood before me. The building had been built years ago, yet there it stood in all its majesty. Click. Click. Click. After several shots, I tilted my camera down and found an impromptu football game with guys that looked like they might be interns or college students. Click. Click. The intensity of the game was intriguing. They grappled and fought for the ball, yet after every play, they smiled and traded friendly jibes. Click. Click. Click. I continued to snap a few pictures as they played the game.
Moving away, I found a mother who was kneeling down next to her son. The cutie’s lower lips quivered as she wiped at his mouth and hands. Click. It was too precious not to miss. Then I noticed the upside-down ice cream cone and widened the lens to snap a few profile pictures of the two before the little guy let out a gut-wrenching wail.
Laughing a little because the boy was so adorable, I shifted my camera and twisted the lens to change the distance of my scope, just the way dad had shown me earlier. And there he was, sitting on the backside of a bench with his feet planted where his bottom should have rested.
Chapter Two
I took in the black boots, black jeans, and then a black tee strained from his defined muscles. Add to those visuals, his movie star face framed by a full head of dark hair that caught the wind just right. My finger was trigger happy (click), and I couldn't help but snap a few shots of him (click. click. click). And although he was facing me, he hadn’t been looking at me. His gaze was directed out into the masses, people watching I imagined. My hand nervously moved to the lens to tighten the shot on his face.
And that’s when I saw the color of his eyes. They were the bluest of blue that would make the sky want to cry from jealously. He was hot, a ten on the Richter scale. We’re talking casotrophic heartbreak. But the way his eyes bore into my lens-. Crap, he looked at directly me. Saw me. My nervous finger clicked off the shot before I shifted away in embarrassment. I did a 180 towards good old Abe and walked a couple steps, feigning more interest as I started to line up an extreme long shot of that memorial. I needed to get out of there. Had he known I was taking pictures of him? I was poised to walk away in the direction of the memorial and make my escape when I heard a voice behind me. He was too close and I knew because I felt his breath on the back of my exposed neck. And I knew who it might be by the sheer amount of baritone in the voice. Slowly, I turned around, heart knocking against my chest.
It was him. And he was like really tall. I'd already been tall but he had a good head over me, making me look up at him, guiltily while he looked down at me with no hint of shame. In fact his face was surprisingly empty, devoid of anything I could read. With his head at an angle, he spoke again, “So, do I get to see?”
With no experience at all with guys other than Bradley—I mean who dates the fat girl— I was struck by his proximity, the fact that he, looking like that, was talking to me. And I am barely able to stutter out, “See what?”
Chuckling, he exposed impossibly white teeth, he said, “My picture.”
The duh, must have crossed my face and I tilted the camera, which had been cradled in my palm, to reveal the ancient camera I was using. “This isn’t digital.”
“That’s a problem then,” he said, his face expressionless again. No, there was expression, I thought looking up at that face, hands shaking. And the look I saw there made me swallow hard.
“Why?” I asked, feeling like cotton had filled my throat.
“I think there must be laws about that or something.”
“Laws,” I repeated, perplexed.
“Yeah, laws. I don’t think I gave you permission to take my picture.” His posture said he was dead serious. Were there laws? I had no idea. And would he try to call the police or something. I didn't mean to do anything. I had been caught up in the feeling of the new camera, caught up in the sheer amount of attractiveness one person could have.
Taking my camera in his hand, the strap around my neck pulled me closer to him. H
e didn’t seem to notice that we were basically sharing too much personal space. He studied my camera like he knew a thing or two about them turning it over this way and that.
“You’re not going to open it, are you?” I asked meekly, scared he would press charges. And that if he'd open it carelessly, try to force it open, the vintage camera might break let alone ruin the film inside.
With a sardonic arch of his brow, he said, “I should. Do you have a release form? I mean, you can’t go posting these pictures without permission.”
“I, I never,” I stammered. I had no idea how many laws I might be breaking. “I promise I won’t post any of your pictures.”
Not looking at all convinced, he said, “How do I know that? Do you know how much my face is worth?”
Priceless, I wanted to say but kept that little comment to myself. I didn't want to seem creepier than he probably already thought me to be. I found myself licking my suddenly dry lips. Was he a model? There was no doubt he could be.
Sighing, at my lack of response, he said, “Well, I guess you owe me then.” Owe him, I didn’t even know him.
“Look, I promise to destroy your picture,” I said, quickly. “I really didn’t mean to break any laws.”
And then he broke out in a brilliant smile, a truly bright genuine smile that catches me off guard. "What did you mean to do?"
Blinking my eyes rapidly, I at a loss on what to say. “I was capturing life,” I admit. What I don’t say was that I was also capturing beautiful things like himself.
“Is that all?” he asked, with a sardonic brow raised.
Stuttering seemed to come natural suddenly. “I… It was just so beautiful out here.”
“So you like beautiful things,” he said. And I get the impression he’s caught on that I find him attractive. And there is no way he doesn’t know just how hot he is.
Through The Lens Page 1
