Seeing Colour

by Amber Faucher

  She stood and began gathering her things. As she slid into her coat, she announced, “I am off to meet Connie at the photoshoot. Can you see that Ian finishes all the work orders in the back before closing up?”

  Evie stiffened, managing only a nod. Mara left the store, and the redhead was left behind, bereft in her office. Evie tried to swallow the lump that had swelled up in her throat, but she nearly choked on it.

  Stop being so jealous! You’re acting like a fool! Mara is not just his ex, she’s his business partner. Of course, she would be involved in the photoshoot for the promo shots.

  Thinking logically did nothing to assuage her rising disappointment. She marched out to the front desk, desperate to check her phone for messages from Connie. Contact of any kind that could help to alleviate this choking despondency. Her fingers tapped the home button, the screen illuminating to reveal one message.

  C.S. – Did Ian make your latte the way you like it;)

  It had been sent hours ago. Still, it was something! She opened the phone and quickly texted a message back.

  E.M. – It was almost as good as yours. Almost.

  Below her message danced the three little dots that indicated he was typing a response. Her teeth bit into her lip, impatient for him to finish. The dots disappeared. Her shoulders fell lower, her hopes swan-diving off the spire of the Empire State building, as her internal Connie-voice began supplying excuses. All of them ended with the same resounding answer. He was too busy for her.

  This was beginning to feel eerily familiar to her last break-up. The good dissipating into a subtle absence that she could continually excuse. No! Connie’s not like that! I'm just stupid and needy and incredibly desperate. Get a grip, Evie, you’re letting your emotions evict your brain!

  The girl began to clean the store for closing. Edgar was still grinding away as she finished a quick mop. Evie poked her head into the back to see where Ian was on the tower of work orders. Gone! Not a single tray remained beside Tracy, and only one more laid to the side of Edgar, the frame waiting for its last lens still in the cutting bay.

  Ian was strangely absent, so the girl backtracked, finding him at the lensometer on the table in the staff room, verifying prescriptions. Here also was the tower. All of the glasses were finished, checked, aligned, and cleaned, ready to be called for patient pick-up. Her mouth fell agape.

  “Glad to see you’re finally impressed,” Ian quipped. “Are we closed yet?”

  Evie shook off the daze, finding the words to answer, “Five more minutes.”

  “Good,” Ian replied, jumping up from the chair. “We can call these tomorrow. I will pack up the frames for the shoot and then we are away.”

  “We?”

  “Yes, we have to meet Connie and Mara at the photoshoot. I have all the frames ready to go. We’ll have to fit them all on the fly.”

  “Won’t the shoot be done with?” Evie questioned, exasperated to not understand what the man was talking about, “Didn’t it start this afternoon?”

  “Connie met with the photographer to start the frames themselves, but the models were slotted for later to accommodate all the different schedules.” Ian clarified.

  As he closed the two carrying cases and jumped over a stack of finished work orders on the floor, he moved past her out the door. Impatiently he demanded, “Didnae Connie tell you?”

  “Nope,” Evie chirped the word, thick with sarcasm, “not a thing.”

  Ian rolled his eyes and growled, swearing loudly in what must have been Gaelic. When he came back with his coat on, he ordered her to shut the lights off and grab her purse. With her teeth ground together, Evie did as she was bid. She found Ian at the front door, the toe of his sneaker impatiently tapping.

  They didn’t talk as the car drove. Evie just sat and fumed out the window until the car pulled to a stop at a residence. In her mind, photoshoot meant a multitude of bright lights, cameras of all descriptions, and a plethora of assistants milling about in perfect unison. Instead, they met Connie and Mara in a basement studio. Serena and Becca were seated on a couch, while the flash of a camera could be seen in the adjacent room.

  Connie brightened when he saw her but did not move to speak to her. He simply spared her a warm smile that crinkled his eyes. Serena, on the other hand, bounded off the couch and grabbed hold of her arm. “You’re here!”

  Serena had exchanged her puffy pom-poms for long black waves that had been weaved into her hair. She had gone from cute to classy in one appointment, the waves forming perfectly round ringlets that framed her cherub-like face and rolled over her shoulders, glossy and voluminous. Her skin glowed with a golden hue, her eyes lined to appear more open and large. She was dressed in a plain white tee with a v-neck collar, exposing her thin length of neck.

  “Did you bring the glasses? I can’t wait to try them on!”

  Both Serena and Becca had picked frames out with Connie, while she had been stuck in the back edging. They had two pairs each, one plastic and one metal, for variety. The blood drained from her face as she realized why Ian had been sent down to take over. The frames would have never been ready had Ian not spent the day catching up for her. Her heart sank, jerking and sputtering as it slumped like a dead wet thing to the pit of her bowels. She had failed at the one thing she could contribute, and it had been relegated to someone else who was better at it.

  In the absence of a response, Serena had concernedly called her name, pulling slightly on her arm like an impatient child. Evie came back to life, realizing she had fallen into a self-pity stupor, and right in front of both her bosses!

  “They’re right here,” Ian said, placing the cases on the low coffee table in front of the couch.

  The girls excitedly tried on the glasses, checking themselves out in a mirror.

  “They’re gorgeous! Will you fit me, Evie, please!” Serena asked.

  The dispensing optician obliged the request, adjusting the frames in turn as best she could without her tools and equipment. Serena spent the next five minutes posing and making duck-lips in the mirror, as Evie fit Becca’s two pairs. Both looked splendid in the new frames, the bright colours playful against the dark glow of Serena’s skin, and brightening the pallor of her girlfriend’s.

  As she finished, Evie was perturbed to see that Ian was fitting frames for Connie. His hands moved with expertise, looking familiar with the task that she had wanted.

  “Next!” Came a raucous call from the photographer’s room, as a lean man returned to the waiting room.

  Mara looked up from her phone and took the man’s extended hand in a firm shake. “Thank you, Takashi,”

  He smiled, his attractive features congenial, as he replied, “You owe me, Mara.”

  Connie shook his hand next, a firm nod his way of thanking the man. Takashi moved towards the stairs with Mara was close by his side. He slipped into a leather jacket, remarking, “I want the first frame line half-price.”

  “You cut a hard deal,” Mara answered, her eyes narrowed at the man.

  “I can’t wait to get them in my practice,” he replied, sparing Connie a glance, before his dark eyes landed back on Mara, “We still on for later?”

  “Of course,”

  “Thank you,” Connie replied, over top of his ex-wife, much to her chagrin.

  Takashi gave them one last wave before heading out of the small studio.

  When he was gone, Evie noticed that Serena was as well. She found Bacca standing inside the doorway, and when she glanced inside, she saw Serena in front of the camera. Her frames were perfectly positioned, as her head moved expertly to the photographer’s beck and call. Evie caught Becca give a breathy sigh as the brunette watched the woman she loved working the camera with undeniable gusto. Serena really was cute as a button, and the baby blue of the metal half-frames popped against the contrast of her skin, the fiery orange and red marbled arms sparking the honey in her eyes aflame.

  The photographer moved quickly through the shots with his cooperative model, a
nd Serena left the spotlight, juiced from the experience. The man zeroed in on Evie, trapping her in his gaze, “You now, up onto the stool!”

  Evie’s hands sprang up in a plaintiff plea, as she babbled a quick, “N-no-no, not me.”

  The photographer gave an exasperated roll of his eyes, as Becca shrugged and offered to go next. Relieved, Evie let Serena take her arm, as her flatmate fished shamelessly for compliments, “I made quick work of that camera. I’m a natural.”

  “You’re adorable,” Evie confirmed, glad to have the subject off of herself.

  The girl’s dark eyes watched her girlfriend, as the photographer snapped away with his camera, and Evie heard her give the same amorous sigh. “Becca has done well, hasn’t she? This guy, he knows what he’s doing, and getting’ friends to model saved Connie and Mara a lot! And why not have us model the frames? We are all normal people! That’s who’s gonna be buyin’ them anyway.”

  Remembering something, she gave Evie’s arm a tug, adding, “Oh, and I brought your other frames. I noticed them in the bedroom and grabbed them before I nipped out with Becca.”

  “My frames…?” Evie thought aloud, panics icy grip spiking her heart rate once more.

  “Och,” Serena scoffed, before scolding her, “I canna believe you’d forgotten them! You’re gonna be the prettiest of all, with your beautiful red hair. Didn’t you see how excited the photographer was to lay eyes on you?”

  There was no way she was going to model for Connie’s frames! She wasn’t a model! Serena, sure, she was as cute as a button. Mara made as well be a model with her sharp features and perfectly arched eyebrows and Connie, hell, he was literally tall, dark, and handsome—every girl’s dream!

  “What’s the matter, Red?”

  “I-I can’t do this…” was all she could stammer as she backpedalled from the room, her muscles coiling to bolt.

  “Oy, come off it,” Serena reprimanded, holding her firm, “yes, you can!”

  In her blind fright, Evie’s wide eyes landed on her boss. Both of them. They were sitting at opposite ends of the couch, Ian leaned against a wall nearby. All three were looking at her with eyebrows raised.

  “She’s fine. No worries!” Serena lied, in that sunny carefree way of hers, as she pushed Evie back towards the photographer’s room.

  “What’s the matter with you?! It’s just some pictures!”

  “These are not just pictures,” Evie snarled back at her flatmate, trying to pull her arm free, “It’s for the brand! It’s more permanent!”

  Evie brought her hands up and covered her face. The redhead felt naked suddenly, the weight of all of her tumultuous emotions culminating into panicked hysteria. Serena’s grip tightened on Evie’s biceps as she questioned, “Did ya not ken that we were all modelling for the promo shots? Connie didnae tell ya?”

  Evie just shook her head again, her hands still over her face. Serena tried to pry them away, but the redhead only gave a smidge.

  “Next!”

  Evie’s heart threatened to jump out of her mouth.

  “Connie! It’s yer turn!” Serena yelled over her shoulder, as Becca came up to the two of them, brows knit.

  Together they herded Evie into a small bathroom and sat her down on the toilet. Serena knelt in front of her, one hand on her knees. Gently she brushed the hair back from her face. “I’m sorry this is comin’ as a surprise to ya. I thought ya ken.”

  “Connie meant to tell you,” Becca offered.

  “Then why didn’t he?” Evie chided waspishly.

  “You know there’s no way for us the answer that.” Becca returned indifferently, “All I know is that he has been swamped and very stressed.”

  “But you’re important to him,” Serena emphasized, “You’re important to Thistle. You made all this possible. Who better to promote the brand than you? You deserve to be here more than any of us."

  “I’m sorry,” Evie apologized, sniffing back the tears that brimmed at her lashes, “you’re both being so kind to me, but I…I don’t think that I can go through with this.”

  “You don’t have much choice,” Becca chuckled light-heartedly, placing a hand on her shoulder. Evie looked up into her eyes, as she explained, “You’re unfortunately our quintessential Scot.”

  “What?”

  “C’mon, Red!” Serena laughed, twirling a strand of her long red hair around one of her delicate digits, “The flaming red hair, the milky white skin, the blue eyes…”

  “But, I’m not even from Scotland!”

  “Ironic, I know,” Becca chuckled, “but no one else is oing to know that.”

  “Connie needs you to do this,” Serena enforced, “for Thistle.”

  “Then why didn’t he tell me? Why can’t he tell me that himself now?!”

  Serena gave her a lop-sided smile, full of mirth and pity. “Oh, Red,” she cooed, smoothing back her hair again, “You have it so, so bad.”

  “Stop saying that! What’s that even supposed to mean?”

  “You’re so in love,” Becca translated pointedly.

  Evie didn’t feel like she was in love. She felt abandoned and forgotten. They hadn’t talked, they hadn’t spoken on the phone, they had barely shared a text or two! She hurt, in ways she had vowed never to hurt again, and Connie was the cause of it.

  “He can’t run to your aid and comfort you now…”

  “Why not?” Evie shot back, “I’m the only one he forgot about!”

  Both the girls shared a sad laugh. Serena’s smile was not mocking but sweet with concern. “Look, your Prince Charming can’t be that charming right now, because his ex-wife is around.”

  “Oooohh,” the word drew out as it exited her mouth.

  Evie felt terribly stupid and overwhelmingly exhausted. All this fuss about Connie and the frames and the pictures, when all she really desired was to feel connected with him again. Evie longed for him to hold her, so she could rid herself of this infuriating craving. She was expecting the impossible, and it had torn her apart.

  “Evie, that photographer is dying to photograph you, so let’s get your make up tidied up and forget about all this,” Becca suggested.

  “Aye,” Serena confirmed, with a wink, “let’s make Mara jealous!”

  The girls did as they had promised. They spruced up her haggard appearance with some fresh cosmetics and a proper brushing. When they came out of the bathroom, Mara was just finishing up her shots. Connie jumped up from the couch, and with the limited privacy, the other room offered, reached for Evie’s hand.

  “Next!”

  Their fingers twitched. Didn’t dare touch, as Mara left the camera room. She was evidently pleased with her session. When Mara glanced in the direction of her dispensing optician and ex-husband, Evie turned her head down to the floor to avoid her gaze.

  “Well, Coinneach, I will leave you to finish this up. There’s just Evangeline left, so I’m going to be on my way.”

  Connie wasted no time. When his ex-wife was gone, he closed the gap between them in one commanding step, his fingers capturing her hand in his large palm. An apology began but was cut off by the sharp call from the photographer. “The redhead! Now, if you please!”

  They shared a smile as he walked her into the other room. The golden eyes of the photographer lit as he rushed to receive her. He shooed Connie away, but the stubborn Scot stayed put. Evie went to the stool, the bathing lights surprisingly warm against her skin. The short photographer’s agile fingers fussed with her hair. He pushed it how he wanted it, as he mused aloud, “Such colour! It is like fire!”

  Over the photographer’s shoulder, Evie saw Serena in the doorway. The lights made it hard to see beyond, but she could make out a thumb’s up. Her gaze found Connie, and she raised her chin a little higher.

  “This will not do,” the photographer groused with a grimace.

  The redhead froze as the photographer deftly popped open the top three buttons of her shirt. Connie charged forward, his large hand nearly swallowed the offe
nder’s wrist, as he stayed the photographer’s progress. The smaller man reefed his hand free, stood to his full height, and lectured the giant Scot, “The collar is too high! You wanted the shots to be focused on the face. She must remove it!”

  “It’s fine. I have a tank-top on.” Evie reassured, obliging the photographer.

  “Much better!” the photographer sang, applauding her as he ran back to his camera, “Your neck is so long, so elegant, so perfect!”

  Connie’s brows lowered from surprise to suspicion as he stepped out of the way again. The photographer had his eye to the camera, adjusting the lens. Without pulling back, he waved a dismissive arm at the lingering Scot, wanting him to move back further. Connie’s bright eyes leered at the little man, sharp and threatening. The dark head bobbed up from the camera lens with a scowl of its own.

  “Too close, too close!” the photographer barked, his shooing motion now both arms swinging.

  Connie’s lips pressed into a thin line as he took a small step back. He planted his feet, crossed his arms and dared the man to shoo him again. The little scuffle between the two lightened the mood.

  With the practiced eye of the photographer back behind the camera, Evie took a cleansing breath. She squared her shoulders and sat straight. Following the photographer’s easy directions, she moved how he pleased, smiled how he wished, and finished the picture sets with each of her frames, feeling calm and confident once more.

  14

  “I don’t know about these,” Evie complained, as she flipped through the headshots on her smartphone.

  Ian leaned over her shoulder, glancing down at the shots.

  “Aye,” he agreed, turning back to his work with the edger, “Won’t fool no one. I can see the Canadian all over ya.”

  “Shut up!” Evie shot back, gouging him with her elbow.

  “It’s the truth, ain’t it?” he laughed, moving to feather the lens on the handwheel before popping it into the plastic frame he was working on, “There ain’t nothing Scottish about you, lass.”

  “Well, there is way back there somewhere. My mother’s parents were both Scottish.”