by Leddy Harper
We made it to the studio with fifteen minutes to spare, and I rushed to set something up. Not knowing who my subject would be—or even what gender—made it difficult to adequately prepare sets. I had never had a mystery shoot such as this, but I could at least get my cameras ready and make sure the batteries were fully charged.
“I think I heard someone.” Shari came into the room. “Want me to go greet ‘em?”
Shaking my head, I said, “No. I’ll do it. I need to see what it is I’ll be working with to mentally prepare myself.”
I walked from the studio and into the waiting room out front. A small-framed woman wearing an oversized coat sat in one of the chairs. I found the jacket odd since we were in the middle of summer in Florida. She had to be dying from the heat. Her hair seemed clean but pulled back into a messy ponytail. Nothing obviously “hideous” about her, unless Nolan found average looking to mean ugly. Which wouldn’t surprise me in the least.
“Hi, you must be here for your—” My words died on my lips as soon as she turned to face me. Angry, red burn scars covered the left side of her face. With her hair pulled back, I could see her ear had been missing as well. And as she blinked, I noticed her left eye wouldn’t fully close. What the hell did Shari get me into? “Um… You must be here for your appointment.” I hoped she hadn’t caught the fumble, or the horrified expression I’m sure I had displayed before catching myself.
Her eyes only met mine briefly, but in that split second, I’d been able to catch the color—an almost see-through blue. They were amazing, yet she kept them focused on the carpet beneath my feet.
“My name is Novah.” I extended my hand to her.
Without glancing up at me, she placed her tiny hand in mine and said meekly, “Jennifer.” Her voice softly floated through the air, her touch even softer, almost absent.
“It’s nice to meet you, Jennifer. Would you mind taking off your coat? I have an idea, but I need to see what size you are.”
Her head snapped up, and fear blazed through her wide eyes as she gawked at me. “I was only told to come here for some pictures. I really don’t want to, though. You’re probably a very busy woman… I shouldn’t have come.” She abruptly stood, sidled around me, and headed for the exit. The girl was clearly frightened and skittish.
But I had no idea why.
I caught up to her. My hand instinctively reached out and held onto hers, keeping her from moving further away. “Please don’t leave. I can’t make you stay, but I would love nothing more than to take your picture.”
“W-what do you have in mind?”
I wanted to hug her, to pull her into me and offer her comfort. Her nerves were evident in the way her shoulders shook beneath the heavy coat, and the way her eyes flickered about the room without landing on anything significant. The way she chewed on her bottom lip reminded me of a small child. I didn’t know what had happened to this poor girl, and I wasn’t about to ask, but I experienced an intense desire to photograph her. I became compelled to prove to her—and to Nolan—how beautiful she was, despite society’s depiction of the meaning.
I decided to take her to a secluded beach at the end of Captiva Island. It was about a forty-five-minute drive, but I knew from experience we would have some privacy to photograph her in a bathing suit. Without seeing her body, I could only assume the scars from her face extended beyond the cover of her clothes. I knew it would be a feat to get her to agree to wear a two-piece, but I wouldn’t give up until she relented.
And to my amazement, she finally did.
Captiva had tourists, but not many, and the ones who did visit these beaches tended to keep to themselves. It was the perfect place for the seclusion I desired. And since I needed to gain her trust, I had to offer her privacy.
After we arrived, she became introverted once more, and I had to talk her down from the ledge of hysteria she’d placed herself upon. She worried about the few people walking along the shore staring at her. She also became upset because I hadn’t put any makeup on her or styled her hair.
“Listen, Jennifer,” I began. “I don’t presume to know your story. I won’t even try to guess your life, but what I can tell you is this…you are a survivor. Most people carry around their battle wounds on the inside where no one can see the things they’ve fought and won. But you…you wear them on the outside, visible to everyone. Your scars were not caused by weakness—they prove you’re a brave fighter…and a winner. All I want to do is photograph your victory, maybe add a little sexiness to it. I’m really good at capturing sexy.” I offered a teasing smirk as I wiped away her stray tears.
Her shoulders dropped, relaxed, and she released a soft sigh through barely parted lips. She squeezed her eyes shut and then quickly opened them, focusing on me. “Okay.”
With a victorious grin, I walked Jennifer to the edge of the beach and posed her in the calm surf of the Gulf. The waters at Captiva were some of the best around, and I knew without a doubt they would complement her eyes better than any of the artificial backgrounds I had in the studio. With Jennifer, I wanted light—lots of light. So I chose a spot away from the trees and shade, and set to work.
Her skin was light and creamy, although the burns ran along the entire left side of her body. The bathing suit covered her chest, but the scars still peeked over her top, right above her breast. She cowered a lot, showing her insecurity with my refusal to camouflage her imperfections by using makeup. I didn’t want to hide them—I wanted to showcase them, highlight them, bring attention to the magnificence they held. I used the water from the Gulf to wet her hair instead of styling it, going for a more natural look. Jennifer objected to every idea I came up with, but in the end, she reluctantly gave in and let me do my job.
For the final shot, I had her lie down on her stomach in the surf, one arm stretched out beneath her head, and the other tucked under her chest with her fingertips touching her lips. I made sure she lay with her scars showing, the sun hitting them just right. I added some sand to her hair and her shoulder, and then told her to look directly into the lens.
The moment the shutter clicked, I knew I had it. My chest tightened and my eyes burned with an emotion I couldn’t place. I had captured the perfect picture, the definition of magnetism in a photo. Nolan may have sent her to me thinking I would fail, unable to meet his challenge. He may have seen this girl and shuddered at her appearance, but I saw something different. I saw strength, power, and above all else, unadulterated radiance.
A high unlike anything else followed me all the way back to the studio. After changing into her clothes, Jennifer didn’t stay. I offered to show her the raw shots I’d taken, but she timidly declined. I’m sure it had to do with her restraining insecurities—those wouldn’t go away over night.
As I walked her out, I made a promise to myself…once I had them edited, I’d give them to her. She needed them more than Nolan or I did.
Shari and I busied ourselves with Jennifer’s photos on the computer as we waited for the next appointment. I needed the diversion to keep me from obsessing over who Nolan had chosen to send next. Her photos proved to be the distraction I needed; it didn’t take any time at all for me to lose myself in them. They were stunning, needing barely any touch-ups. I simply softened the harsh sunlight. No filters on her actual body were applied or needed.
Before I knew it, the chime on the door rang out through the studio; my next client had arrived. My heart clambered in my chest as I approached the door, not even wasting my time imagining who I would find.
In the waiting area stood a giant of a man. His muscles bulged through the white shirt he wore, and he towered over me by at least a foot—which wasn’t extremely difficult since I stood slightly under five and a half feet tall, but with his build, he made me feel tiny. His hair was kept close to his scalp, almost shaved, yet it seemed as though his face hadn’t seen a razor in at least a week.
I became instantly intimidated, not only by his size, but also by his unsettling expression. His lips w
ere pressed into a thin line, his eyebrows lowered as he took me in, and his nostrils flared on his slightly crooked nose. The only thing about him with the ability to calm my fears had been his eyes. The amber color pierced me and set my insides ablaze.
What Nolan found unattractive about this man, I couldn’t identify.
I stuck my hand out, offering him an introduction. “Hi, it’s nice to meet you. My name is Novah Johnson, and I am the photographer here.”
He didn’t move to return the handshake, only continued to stare me down with his fierce expression. But I wondered if he knew how his eyes came across. There was no mistaking the kindness they held. It was easy to miss with his towering and intimidating build.
Finally, I dropped my hand and glanced down, becoming incredibly insecure. And then I noticed it. The right sleeve of his T-shirt hung loosely from his shoulder—empty. He had no arm to fill the fabric.
Intense heat spread from my neck to my face, and I slowly lifted my eyes until they met his again. He still hadn’t removed his attention from me, and I suddenly felt inferior as our gazes locked once more.
Not giving up, I held out my left hand. “I’m really looking forward to our shoot today. I’m sorry it was such short notice, and I don’t really have anything set up yet, but if you don’t mind giving me a few minutes, I’m sure I can come up with something.”
Finally, he took my hand in his and shook it. Strong, powerful, and hot didn’t even begin to describe his fingers wrapped around mine. His hand literally swallowed mine whole. “Jacob.”
“Nice to meet you, Jacob. You can go ahead and follow me back, and we’ll get you ready.” I knew exactly what I wanted his prints to look like. And lucky for me, I had what I needed in the stock room.
He trailed behind me, his steps hard and heavy on the wood floor beneath our feet. All I could think about was what kind of fucked-up person Nolan was for sending these people to me. Not because they were messed up in anyway, but Nolan had to have been in order to see them as anything other than stunning.
“Jacob, this is Shari, my assistant. Shari, this is our next client, Jacob.” My focus never left my friend as I made the introductions, ensuring her expression didn’t veer toward offensive. “I’m thinking we should use the weight bar with him. Shirtless. Boxer-briefs if he’ll allow us.”
I glanced briefly to my new subject and waited for his opinion. All I got from him was a short nod and stiff posture. I didn’t say anything else, happy he at least agreed to strip down for this shoot.
While Shari got him ready—technically, undressed—and oiled him up, I pulled out my phone to send an email.
Nolan,
You are the most vile human being on this planet.
I didn’t even bother signing it. I quickly sent the message before my anger got the best of me and caused me to spout off things I couldn’t take back. There were many other choice words I wanted to use on him, but figured it could wait until I completed all four sessions. Then I would unleash the full extent of my hatred for him—on him.
Jacob stood silently in front of the brick wall next to the etched-glass window of my studio. I turned the lights down low, only relying on the slight sunlight from outside and the lighting umbrellas. The Olympic bar leveled against his shoulders with his one hand steadying it. Two faux weight plates were stacked on each side, yet it seemed as though he could have lifted real ones effortlessly.
Hard, defined muscles were accentuated by black and grey tattoos along his left arm and upper portion of his chest. Based on how the ink disappeared beneath the heavy scarring, I assumed he’d once had the same art decorating his missing right arm. The oil Shari had rubbed on him made everything stand out brilliantly, catching the attention of the light and camera every time the shutter closed.
After fifteen minutes and various poses, our session ended. I probably didn’t even need to take as many as I had, since his body appeared to have been created for photography, but I wanted to make sure I had enough. He didn’t talk throughout the entire shoot, nor after he pulled his clothes back on. He did, however, give me his phone number so I could contact him once I had the final proofs ready.
“God, I was praying to the heavens you would’ve asked me to pose with him,” Shari said with a sigh once Jacob left the studio. “He was one gorgeous chunk of man-meat.”
My laugh quickly died on my lips as the growing fire of hatred licked its way up my body. “Yeah, and the asshole, Nolan, sent him to me because he thinks he’s hideous. I wonder what Nolan looks like now. I bet he’s nothing to glance twice at. He probably peaked in high school like all the other jocks and now hates anyone considered to be attractive. I bet he’s six hundred pounds and smells like week-old Chinese food.” Knowing how good looking he was as a teenager, I highly doubted he’d regressed that much, but it didn’t hurt to hope.
“What did you ever see in him back then?” she asked, cleaning up the studio while I packed away the equipment.
“Same thing you did. Same thing every other girl in school did.”
Shari came to me and held my shoulders until I looked right at her. “I’m sorry I forced you into this, but I have a feeling you’ll get your justice and move on with your integrity firmly intact. Which is more than I can say for him. Something tells me this right here, these pictures you’re taking, this photo shoot he’s challenged you with will finally release the hatred you’ve carried around all these years.”
“You are unbelievably optimistic, and it’s why I love you so much. But let’s be real here—I don’t think anything will ever make the animosity I live with go away. I’m bound to carry it around with me for the rest of my life. He didn’t simply kiss and tell, Share. He violated me. I have grown up and moved on, but the humiliation will never go away. I’d say the only way justice will be served is if he’s suffered twice as much…and with who his father is, I highly doubt he has.”
Her arms wrapped around me and squeezed my shoulders tightly. I didn’t need the affection, but it was nice coming from her. After all, she’d been the one who stuck by me when everyone else had jumped on the bandwagon of gossiping behind my back.
“I’m serious. He didn’t damage me or ruin me. Look at what I’ve accomplished in my life. I get to do what I love every single day. I honestly don’t think I would have ever stuck with this profession had everything not happened the way it did. I became determined not to let it get to me, and I love my life every fucking day.”
A gentle smile tugged at the corners of her lips, yet it was small and looked full of empathy.
“Enough.” I laughed and waved my hands in front of my face, not wanting to continue this depressing conversation. We’d more than tired it out over the last fifteen years. “I’m ready to go. I need food, a shower, and sleep.”
We locked up the studio and each headed in our own direction after making plans to meet back up there in the morning for round two of Nolan’s challenge.
The text alert on my phone woke me. I checked the time and realized it was only ten at night. Yet with how tired I was, it seemed closer to three in the morning. I’d been so exhausted, I passed out as soon as I got home.
Unknown Number: So you think they’re ugly?
I rubbed my eyes, trying to decode the message. Not understanding what it meant in my sleepy state, I replied.
Me: What do you mean?
I waited and waited, almost drifting back to sleep before my phone buzzed again in my lap, startling me awake once more.
Unknown Number: The models from today. You said I was vile. Does that mean you think they’re ugly? Can’t find anything worth taking a picture of beyond all the imperfections?
My breaths turned labored and my face flamed with heat as my fingers rapidly typed out my reply.
Me: No…you’re the hideous one. They are exemplary examples of what should be considered gorgeous.
I quickly set his number in my contacts.
Asshole: They’re mangled and disfigured.
His ignorance didn’t even warrant a response, so I returned my phone to my nightstand and tried to fall back asleep. Surprisingly enough, he didn’t bother to send another text. And I knew this because I tossed and turned for over two hours before my brain finally decided to shut off and allow me to get some sleep.
Three
The following morning came too soon, but I jumped from my bed with an eagerness I hadn’t experienced in a long time. I couldn’t wait to start my day, not only because I wanted to be done with Nolan once and for all, but also because my interest had been piqued. I couldn’t wait to see who Nolan would send to me this time around.
I arrived at the studio before Shari and began my work on editing the photos I’d taken the day before. Much like with Jennifer’s images, Jacob’s didn’t require many changes. His radiance and expressiveness jumped from the screen. They were gritty and raw, emotionally powerful, and they had me pondering a change from boudoir to the beautifully wounded. Although, I wouldn’t bet I’d have too many people knocking down my door to capture their self-proclaimed imperfections.
Society has completely blinded people with their fabricated depictions of what it truly means to be attractive. Real people weren’t airbrushed.
Shari walked over to me and set her purse down next to my desk. “There’s a man outside, and I think he’s our next client.”
I turned my attention from my computer to her, and tilted my head to the side in a show of confusion. “Is he in the waiting room? I didn’t even hear the chime.” I started to stand but her hand on my shoulder halted my movements.
“No…he’s outside.”
“Then what makes you think he’s my next client?”
