“And a clean up on aisle twelve,” Patricia added, holding the phone away from her ear to reduce the pain she felt as Gabrielle laughed hard and loud on the other side of the line.
“Only if you are really, really good.” Jean agreed.
“Or, it’s been a while, so don’t get too full of yourself,” Cheryl Lynn retorted.
“Baby, when I get done with John, the only name he better remember is mine. If there is another name, I’ll just have to try harder.” She paused for a second, “Or get Gabrielle to off the other bitch.”
“I’m not even going there,” Cheryl Lynn admitted, “That would be too easy for you.”
“With what part?” Jean asked.
“Harder.”
“Oh, let’s talk about the …” Jean started talking before Bethany Anne put up a hand to stop Jean in mid-sentence.
“Would you ladies mind continuing this another time? We are on a schedule. Patricia can ask Natalia, and if she agrees, then Operation Beefcake is a go.”
Patricia pointed to her phone and nodded that Gabrielle was fine with doing the photo shoot.
Bethany Anne wasn’t worried about the five-hundred-year-old woman. A slinky bathing suit wouldn’t offend her at all. Hell, she would act concerned, but Bethany Anne doubted full nudity would bug her either. As you age, you tend to lose your inhibitions and five hundred years is a lot of time in which to lose them.
“Ok, next step is the photographer, who is going to take the pictures?” Bethany Anne asked.
“Why not get the same guy that did the shots of your cars?” Jean asked.
“What was his name?” Cheryl Lynn asked, “I can look it up if you don’t know it.”
“Mark Koeff, from California. I think he goes by another name as well for some of his work.” Bethany Anne said, “I’ll call him and ask. If he will do it, I’ll get a Pod over to pick him up later so he can work with the guys.”
“Do you think they will have problems in front of the camera?” Jean asked.
Bethany Anne eyed the shorter woman, “I think if I let you rub John down with the baby oil, he won’t be able to get in front of the camera.
Jean smiled mischievously, “Sure he would…eventually.”
CHAPTER FOUR
Rancho Santa Margarita, California - USA
Mark Koeff had been surprised to get a phone call from Bethany Anne earlier that day. It took him about thirty-seven seconds to say ‘yes.'
He grabbed two bags of camera equipment to hand to the man who had landed a black Pod that night in his backyard. It was a good thing the vehicle could fly straight up and down, his yard was pretty small. Orange County had a lot of positive things going for it. However, large lot sizes weren't one of them.
Tanner, the guy helping him, grabbed the two heavy bags that contained the lighting equipment and walked out of Mark’s kitchen into the back yard. Mark watched him for a second as it sunk in that Tanner wasn’t struggling with the weight at all.
Kari, Mark’s wife, came and kissed him good-bye. He stepped over to the twenty-seven inch iMac he used for his business and shut it down. Mark had rescheduled some headshot work by a few days to do this gig, but only one person complained, He offered to do his pictures for free, just a week late, which seemed to please everyone.
“Come back safe, sweetheart,” Kari told him. They kissed another time, and the two walked out to see Tanner standing in front of the Pod.
“Ready?” he asked Mark.
Mark turned to Kari, “I’ll be safe. I’m going to be shooting pictures of heavy duty guards. I’ll just hide behind them if anything happens.” He chuckled as he sat down in the Pod and Tanner helped him strap in with the five-point harness.
Kari watched as the black Pod lifted into the darkness before disappearing from her eyes. She turned to go inside, hoping she didn’t hear about her husband in the news.
—
Mark was amused to be teaching four of the most famous guys in the protection business the ins and outs of his profession to calm their fears. While he often had to reduce anxiety for those he photographed, doing that for these four, who probably walked through walls rather than finding the door, was funny.
As long as he didn’t let them know he was laughing on the inside, he should be fine.
Mark had made it to the Pacific to land on the QBS Polarus with the famed Ad Aeternitatem a couple of hundred yards away, heading to the west at a slow pace.
His stuff was offloaded as he was shown to the meeting room on the huge ship. It was in here that he found the four guards waiting for him. Mark had kept a few things with him to help with the discussion. He shook everyone’s hand and exchanged names before opening his bags. Placing the contents on a table at the front of the room, he looked up to see that the four men had taken seats in the front row.
Mark held up a camera body. “This is a Canon 5D Mark III, I have the Mark IV pre-release version Canon provided me to review before release, but for this shoot, I’m going with my tried and true tools.” He looked at his attentive audience, “I’m sure you have preferred tools you use.” He got some nods of agreement.
Mark set the camera down and picked up a long cylinder, “This is a Canon 70-200 zoom lens, which gives me the flexibility to go slightly wider if I need, but primarily to take advantage of its 2.8 aperture at a 200% compression factor to obtain dappled, indistinct backgrounds. I also love the way it flattens the nose and brings out the eyes, making a deeper spiritual connection with the viewer. This lets the viewer catch a glimpse into the soul, which is eminently more appealing.”
He put down the lens and picked up the next piece of equipment, “For lighting, I’ll use the on-camera flash as a fill. It’s called this because it fills in shadows caused by the main lights. It also triggers slaved kicker strobes, which I’ll place one on each side to rim light your torso and your face. This will also create more detail, texture, and dimensionality, showing your muscles better.”
Mark put down the flash and leaned back against the table to speak to the guys. “Regardless of the site, I’ll want the positioning or pose not only to reflect the natural activity of the location but to possibly tell a story. That will create a feeling of catching you in action, unaware of being photographed.”
Scott put up a hand, and Mark paused, “Can you give us an example?”
Mark nodded, “Sure, for instance, suppose we choose to shoot at an animal shelter demonstrating your compassionate nature and love of animals. I’d have one of you comforting a small dog, wrapped in your shirt. Should we to go to a beach location, you might be standing in line for lunch at a quaint bistro in the noonday sun, needing no shirt, or walking away with your hands full with a small plate, sandwich, and drink. Should Cheryl Lynn’s goal be to capture you in work-related activity, like guarding, I’d have to consult with you and ask you what sort of scenario would either stop you from wearing a shirt or cause you to disrobe and then we’d recreate that scene. The idea is to create images that make women viewers feel a bit of the voyeur, catching you involved in real activities. This allows the ladies’ imaginations to run wild, engendering emotional connection and a sexier image.” He smiled to the guys who were all nodding in understanding.
Mark took a second to make sure they were all looking at him again before continuing. “Look, trust the process and know that I will not allow you to do anything that would make you look anything less than powerful. If I don’t like how things are developing, we’ll simply start again and take a new approach. If you don’t feel comfortable with any direction or requested action, you have the ability to stop and tell me. It’s integral to the process that you OWN the story and feel it. Our goal is to create an image that is illustrative, which means capturing believable situations or stories with honest emotions. Together we can make it happen. However, we will only be successful when you trust me. Don’t try to be or do anything ... rather be and do as you would if you were all by yourselves with no one watching.”
; Mark paused for a moment and thought, “Ok, here is an example scenario. Just as you stepped out of your brownstone to pick up your paper early one morning, wearing only towel or boxer shorts and coffee cup in hand, your front door suddenly slams behind you and you don’t have your key.”
“That’s Eric,” John commented and received a punch on his shoulder from Eric.
Eric smiled, “Mark, I’d have to use the towel, beach size, of course, assets must be hidden, and beach size is the only size appropriate.”
“Stop lying,” Darryl shot back laughing, “I’ll get you a washcloth, which will be sufficient to hide anything. Hell, you don’t need a fig leaf, just pull a blade of grass, and you will be just fine.”
“I’m sorry, but there hasn’t been a piece of grass that can hide my anatomy since the Jurassic period,” Eric shot back.
Scott leaned forward to look past Darryl to ask John, “How the hell does Eric know the term Jurassic?”
John smiled, “He saw the movie.”
“Right, good point.” Scott leaned back, “I thought my view of reality was being called into question here.”
“Look, you ass!” Eric shot back.
Mark was watching the men fire comments back and forth, his head going from one to the other and then back again. He interrupted to try and get the conversation back on track, “Hey guys?” He felt almost a click of a laser sight as all four snapped their eyes back to him immediately, “May I continue?”
“Sure, sorry.” Eric said, “Just have to make sure I protest this obvious effort to spin a falsehood about my manhood here.”
Mark nodded, “I got it, beach sized towel. So, moving on. Once a storyline is established, we will then set it in motion… My words will focus you, much like a movie director’s, reminding you of the scene, and interjecting surprises. You just recalled you have a meeting in 30 minutes, or you suddenly see your girlfriend pulling up and she’s doesn’t know your mistress is inside or…”
“Hold!” John said, putting up a hand, “Can we skip the mistress idea? If you aren’t aware, the ladies we work with will take that shit pretty fucking seriously, and it would hurt like hell to heal from their anger.”
“Imagine if Cheryl Lynn,” Darryl started before Scott interrupted.
“Or Jean, huh John?" Scott laughed.
“Oh, hell no!” John grinned as he pretended to shake, “I can imagine waking up with a howitzer aimed at my privates. It would totally ruin my morning.”
Darryl whooped in laughter, “You would be hog tied and sweating!” He put his arms by his side and acted out being tied up, “Jean, we can talk about this. I’m not sure who that woman is, but I assure you…” Then, Darryl switched to a higher voice, “Oh, I’m sure there will be some assurance here, Mr. Grimes. Like, I assure you that I will cause untold pain if you ever mess around on me.”
“Love at the end of a one fifty-five…one fifty-five..” Eric started singing.
“That shit isn’t funny,” John said, grinning. “You might think you got it easier, Scott. But Eric here is going to be up shit creek if …”
“Ho, ho, ho, hold on!” Eric interrupted. “Let’s not get ahead of anyone here. I’ll admit John might have some plans for the delectable and delicate Ms. Dukes.”
“Delicate?” Darryl laughed, “Are we speaking about the same lady?”
“Hey, I’m trying not to scare John away before he makes a move on the woman!” Eric said.
John said slowly, “I don’t know, the idea of that one fifty-five howitzer staring at me when I wake up is a little concerning.”
“Shit, John,” Scott said, “You don’t worry about a howitzer. That thing is too big to fit in your bedroom.”
“That’s true.” John agreed.
“Nope,” Scott continued, “What you worry about is what new gravitic tool she would concoct to smash your balls twenty times before you got the first scream out of your mouth!” He started laughing so hard that he almost fell off of his chair.
At this, the other three guys and Mark started chuckling.
John just shook his head, “That was not the kind of support I need right now, Scott.”
Scott acted like he was wiping away tears from his laughter, “Don’t worry about it. The truth hurts, but Jean Dukes will elevate it to a new level of pain if there is a mistress involved.”
“Hey, I didn’t say anything about a mistress,” John said, then pointed to Mark, “He started this mess.”
Mark realized that joking with four tough guys maybe wasn’t the best way to get out of this unscathed.
Mark grinned and put a finger into his shirt’s collar, “Is it getting hot in here or is it just me?” He looked at John, “Wow, tough crowd. Let’s keep going shall we?” He rubbed his jaw, “Ok, this step is going to be tough to accomplish because your training is going to make this difficult.”
“Our training?” John asked.
“Yes, you see, I would normally do something or have someone off screen to distract you and try to get you to lose your awareness of the process so you are more comfortable and natural. Since you guys are trained not to be off-guard, I can’t do that. So, suggestions?”
“Not a one,” John admitted.
Mark considered the problem and shrugged his shoulders, “I’ll just have to improvise.”
Manufacturing Facility 01 - Asteroid Fields
Gott Verdammt, but she was beautiful.
Captain Paul Jameson was going around the ship, his ship, for the fifth time. It had taken him only twenty-four hours to send a message to Bethany Anne that he accepted the role of piloting this bad-ass motherfucker in front of him.
He went under the ship, noticing the massive guns under her belly, and on her wings. He surreptitiously wiped a tear away from his eye. “Aww damn, Justin, I wish you could see this son-of-a-bitch.” He spoke softly into the silence of his Pod. “I promise you, buddy, I’ll do my best to make you proud.”
Paul thought back to the last night before his friend died in a non-engagement, engagement. Rules stopping both his friend and himself from doing what they felt was right. Rules that ended up costing his friend his life. It had been years ago, and yet the pain was still as fresh as if it was last week.
“She’s the right one. She’s one I can follow and whether I die of old age, or I come see you soon, we are going into battle behind one bad-ass leader. I wish you could be here to enjoy this with me.” Now, tears were falling down Paul’s face.
He just let them flow ... it was past time he have this conversation.
“I’ve just been piloting Justin, I’ve just been waiting, I thought. But I was taught how to trust, how to serve, again. How to follow one more time unto the breach.” Paul flew the Pod around over the side and then the top to view the long guns running down the flanks, “And now, she has trusted her life, her future and the future of the world with me at the helm of the baddest, biggest, and meanest ship man has ever built. I’m going to be her pilot, the man who is going to point this beast wherever the fuck she tells me to aim it.”
He stopped the pod and looked down at the men and women still swarming on the ship’s outside, trying to finish the modifications to the gravitic sensors and armament changes that Bobcat and Marcus came up with after Paul started flying the ship.
Paul noticed three cargo containers floating into the section behind the biggest guns and grinned mirthlessly.
Paul spoke aloud, to his friend wherever he might be. “If Bethany Anne points towards Hell itself? Well, I’ll just see you sooner, my friend, because I’ll storm Hell itself for her.”
SUED FOR PEACE Page 5
