by C. L. Ryder
“Oh, like me,” I said, laughing.
Alex winked. “She asked about you.”
I nearly dropped the light stand I was taking down. “What? What did she ask?”
“About your photography. She said she wanted to see the photos you took.”
I felt strangely loopy with excitement. Maybe she was just trying to make polite conversation with Alex. She wasn’t interested in my photography, just showing polite interest in our work.
“So I gave her your card,” he said.
“My card? You mean our business card?”
“No, your card. The one you gave me, for your house photography. She seemed pretty pleased.”
I laughed. “Come on, Alex. You’re just screwing with me.”
He shrugged. “I mean, she’s a celebrity. Maybe she was faking her interest. But it seemed real to me.”
“It sounds like she was just being polite. She was a really friendly person.”
“Maybe. But she also didn’t ask a thing about me, Lily. All she wanted to know about was you. Take that however you want, but it seemed to me like she was interested in you.”
I packed away the last stand and slung my camera bag over my shoulder, slightly bewildered. I was certain that she was just being polite. Almost certain. “Well, that’s cool. But she didn’t leave her contact info behind, did she?”
“Nope.”
There we go. If she really had been interested in me, then wouldn’t she have left a way for me to contact her? Maybe not, maybe that wasn’t good practice when you were a celebrity. Either way, it didn’t really matter. Outside of what I would see of her when I looked her up on the Internet when I got home, Winny Heart was out of my life.
“Want to get some drinks or something?” Alex asked as we walked out to our cars.
“How are you not dead tired?” I asked. “I’m ready to just pass out.”
“The night gives me life,” he said, pulling out another cigarette.
“Okay, Dracula,” I said. “I’ll catch you later.”
“Who knows,” Alex called over his shoulder, “maybe she’ll call you.”
I definitely was going to pass out soon, but when I got home, showered and got into bed, I had one more thing I needed to do. I pulled out my cell phone and put Winny’s name into Google, and my heart thumped faster as photos of her popped up. I tapped on the first music video link that showed up, and watched as the girl I had casually chatted with over drinks sang with her incredible voice and danced with a squad of sexy backup dancers. I smiled when I recognized the song as one that had been stuck in my head before, even though I had no idea who sung it.
I opened her Wikipedia page and then quickly closed it. It was too tempting to be a creeper and read through her entire biography. Then I sighed and gave in, reopening the page. I was way too curious about her to not look. Besides, I’d never see her again.
There wasn’t much about her early life except that she was born in Los Angeles to a singing coach mother and a father who apparently was a famous actor back in the seventies and eighties, but passed away shortly before Winny began her singing career. It said that her first album was dedicated to him, and that her mother was her inspiration to start her singing career, and that she dropped out of…
“Whoah,” I said aloud.
It said that she dropped out of architecture design school to pursue her true passion. Maybe that was why she seemed so interested when I told her what I’d rather be shooting.
Her fathers old industry connections, along with her singing abilities (which I’d experienced firsthand) made her singing career quickly take off. She'd been on the TV show “Glee”, which helped put her in front of a broader audience, and she’d released several albums and featured on tracks by a huge number of other famous pop artists. I scrolled down to the bottom of the page where the “Personal Life” section was, and I breathed out a sigh.
At the bottom below a paragraph about her religious beliefs (agnostic), was a tiny line that said, “In August 2014 Heart was reported to be dating actor Frank White.”
I smiled and shook my head. “Alex, your gaydar is off after all,” I said to myself, and then locked the phone, feeling just a little bit ridiculous. I set the phone down on the counter by my bed, snuggled in to the pillow, and was out like a light.
Three
I had thought that when I woke up the next day, Winny Heart would’ve faded to the back of my mind as an interesting story to tell friends over drinks, but I was wrong. I couldn’t stop thinking about her.
After eating breakfast, I sat down at the computer and started to go through the photos from yesterday’s wedding, sipping on a mug of black coffee while I listened to music online. I usually listened to my own playlist of music, but today I decided to use a pre-made morning playlist, and guess whose song happened to come on first?
I laughed and listened to Winny singing an upbeat song about having her heart broken but meeting someone new while I loaded up the photos and started to edit them. Every time a shot came up with her in it she stood out as if the rest of the image were in black and white and she was the only element in color. When I got to the photos of her performance I found my heart thudding as I remembered the moment when she’d made eye contact with me and dedicated the song to love.
I was feeling unusually energized. I skipped back to Winny’s song and listened to it again, humming along to the catchy chorus.
I’m standing on the edge
On the precipice of fate
Love’s gone behind me
It’s come to blind me
And oh, I just can’t wait
I chuckled at the cheesy lyrics and wondered if Winny had written them herself or if she had someone composing her songs for her. Before I knew it, I had listened to her entire newest album. It was all music I normally wouldn’t care for at all, the lyrics all pop cheese but her voice still smooth and addicting. I was also more than halfway through editing my portion of the weddings photos.
My cell phone rang, vibrating loudly on the desk by my keyboard, and I nearly jumped out of my chair in surprise. I looked at the number and saw that it was (UNKNOWN), and my heart started to race. “Maybe he’ll call you,” Alex’s voice said in my head.
“Yeah right,” I muttered, but my inner voice was screaming, holy shit, it’s her!
I picked up the cell phone and swiped my thumb across the screen to answer it. I stood up out of my chair and walked to the center of the room to pace around, a habit I had when I had to make or take an important phone call. I suddenly became certain that it would be Winny’s voice on the other side of the line, and that she would tell me that she hadn’t been able to stop thinking of me since the night before, and that we had to be together.
“Hello?” I said, with some hesitation.
But the voice on the other side was not Winny’s.
“Hello, this is Sadie Dunsmore calling from Homeowners Mag. I’m trying to reach Lily Golden?”
I let out my breath like I was a balloon deflating. This was the real call I had been waiting for, and yet I actually felt a tinge of disappointment. Stupid of me, to actually think it was Winny calling me. “Hi, Sadie, this is Lily.”
Now that the fog had cleared a little, my heart started to pound again, a lump rising in my throat. This could be either really good news or really bad news.
“Hi, Lily,” she said pleasantly, but with a sharp professional tone. “I first wanted to thank you for taking the time to submit your portfolio and coming in for the interview.”
I felt my heart sink.
“You have excellent work and are a very skilled photographer, however…your lack of professional experience is a bit of an issue for us.”
“I…I see,” I said. I couldn’t think of anything else to say.
“I’m sorry, Lily. However we’d encourage you to apply back in the future when you have more experience. Like I said, we were very impressed with your work.”
“Thank you for gi
ving me the opportunity,” I said. “I really appreciate it.”
After hanging up, I stood there in the center of my apartment, slowly digesting the news. My vision spun and blurred, and I felt all the positive energy I’d had during the morning leaking away. For a moment, I saw a glimpse of my future career and my dream job, but now it was gone. I threw my hands up. “How the hell am I supposed to get work experience when no one will hire me because I don’t have any Goddamn work experience?”
I plunked back down into my chair, sinking down like I was melting butter. I knew that Sadie wasn’t just trying to make me feel better when she had said my portfolio was excellent. I knew it was. I sighed. What would I do? I would have to continue with the weddings, and try to save some time and energy for freelance gigs. It was the only way I could get the experience I needed.
Turning back to my computer, I started going through the rest of the wedding photos in a kind of half-there daze. The news had completely killed my spirits making it nearly impossible to do any good work, so I picked up my phone and called Alex.
“’Sup,” he said. I could hear the rapid clicking of his mouse, which told me he was editing photos. When he edited, he got into a zone where he could knock out a whole batch in no time at all, whereas I usually meandered and took the whole day.
“Guess what?” I asked.
“You’re finally coming out of the closet to everyone?”
“What? Damnit, Alex, no,” I said. “Homeowners Mag called me back. I didn’t get the job.”
The clicking of his mouse stopped. “Aw, shit, Lily. What the hell? What did they say?”
“Not enough experience,” I said. “But they liked my portfolio.”
The mouse clicking continued, but much slower now, his attention diverted to me. “I’m sorry about that, Lily. They don’t know what they’re losing.”
“Yeah,” I said. “So I gotta figure out how to get some actual work experience while doing the weddings. But hey, looks like you won’t have to find a new partner for a little while longer.”
“And I was so excited to be rid of you,” he said, and I could just imagine his deadpan expression. “But seriously, that sucks. Alright. Just finished up my end of the photos.”
“Jesus, already? I’m barely done with half of mine.”
“Told you, the night gives me life. I smoked a bowl and stayed up till like three working last night. I got some sweet shots that I really liked. And a couple nice ones of your girlfriend too. I’ll send those right on over.”
I laughed. “No, Alex, I’ve got plenty of my own shots. I don’t want to be more of a creeper than I already am.”
“Too late, just e-mailed them. Check that shit, because I know you want them.”
I got up and went to the kitchen and pulled a box of taquitos out from the freezer and put five onto a plate, and then transferred them into the toaster oven on the countertop.
“Did you see them yet?” he pestered cheekily.
“I’m making lunch.” I went back to my chair and plonked down, then opened up my e-mail account and saw Alex’s e-mail at the top. Attached were two portrait shots of Winny. Damn, she was hot. “Thanks,” I said with a laugh. “I will not be saving these photos, because that would be weird.”
“Come onnn,” he teased. “I’ll just take that as you saying you have some better shots of her.”
I closed his e-mail and then scrolled down through all my unread mail. There were quite a few, since I hadn’t had a chance to check my mail since yesterday morning before the wedding, and I absently scrolled back up through them, checking them off for deletion. There were a couple e-mails from clients that I recognized and left alone, and when I had reached the top I was about to click delete when one of the messages caught my eye. I had thought it was just junk mail, but the “from” name stood out to me now.
W.H.
The subject said, “Your stuff”.
I clicked the e-mail, my heart suddenly pounding. My eyes flicked over the text, skimming it. My mouth dropped open. I barely heard the ding of the toaster oven.
“Alex.”
“What?”
“Winny e-mailed me.”
“Whoah. Seriously?”
“Yeah. She wants to meet.”
“Holy shit. I told you, Lily! I told you she was into you!”
The smell of burnt taquitos filled the room. “Shit, my lunch is burning. I gotta go.”
“Fill me in!” he said quickly before I hung up.
Holy shit. She actually e-mailed me.
Four
I read and re-read the e-mail a couple times, still amazed that Winny had actually decided to contact me. In my head I ran over the reasons for why she would, and had it not been for the information I had read on Wikipedia I might’ve given Alex’s insistence that she was into me some credit. I knew that wasn’t the case though, the girl had a boyfriend after all.
Her e-mail was short and didn’t give much away. It said:
Lily
Wish we had more time to speak yesterday. I got your card from your friend and checked out your work. Love it. Would love to talk more.
Hit me up. Can’t give out my number here, but you can e-mail me back. Got a recording session coming up, could be a few days, but I’m free on Friday.
Winny
What I figured was that being a former architecture student, she must have an interest in, well, architecture, and wanted someone to talk to about it. For any normal person it would be unusual to contact someone you just met and basically demand to meet them again, but she was a world famous pop star. She probably was used to having demands met.
Well, I had no gigs coming up, Friday was open for me, and I had just been told that I wasn’t to be hired for Homeowners Mag, so I really had no reason to not meet her. Plus, as sad as it was to admit, I had pretty much fantasized about it happening. If only she didn’t have a boyfriend. And wasn’t straight.
I sighed and bit into an overly crispy taquito. And what was I? Alex teased me about it often, but it was true, I hadn’t come out and told anyone that I liked girls. The thought was intimidating and downright scary to me, but I would have to come out sometime… This little fast infatuation had reminded me that I was attracted to women. So attracted to women. And I did want a relationship, at least eventually.
At this point, it was only myself blocking me, and it was a tough block. I realized that sometimes people just had these types of mental blocks that prevented them from doing something extremely simple and seemingly innocuous. There was no sense or logic about it, but they were there all the same.
I replied back to Winny’s e-mail, telling her that I was down to meet again, trying not to sound too eager about it. I finished my lunch and went back to editing photos, even more distracted now. Sure, she had a boyfriend, but I was going to see her again.
About two hours later I was surprised to see that Winny had already responded back, and just like that, we were all arranged to meet for lunch at Mr. Nice, an exclusive bar and restaurant on Sunset Boulevard. One moment I was being turned down by my dream job, and the next I was setting a meeting with a pop star to presumably talk about homes and architecture. Funny how life worked.
Alex had asked me to keep him filled in, so I messaged him online to tell him what had happened. I made sure to let him know that Winny had a boyfriend, so his intuition had been wrong after all.
“No way,” he said. “Don’t believe everything you read on the Internet. She is totally into chicks.”
I could only give him a curt “lol”. Alex could be really stubborn when it came to being proven wrong about something, though he often wasn’t. It did make me wonder though, and I found myself Googling “Winona Heart and Frank White” and clicking over to the Images section, feeling just a little weird about it. Though I figured in the age of social media, it probably wasn’t such a big deal to check out public information.
The photos were mostly paparazzi shots—them in dark sunglasses as they lef
t cafes or restaurants. There was one of Winny walking a black and white husky while Frank followed carrying two bags of groceries. She was wearing a simple t-shirt and jeans, but they hugged her curves and accentuated her amazing legs. How could anyone be allowed to be so good looking? I was no slob myself—I made sure to work out often and keep my body in good shape—but Winny was that insane full package of good looks, good genetics, and talent that basically insured she would be successful even without all the family connections.
Friday came quickly. I wanted to make sure that I wouldn’t have to worry about being behind on work so I put my nose to the grindstone, and in the days between I was able to clear out my queue. For the first time in a while I had some actual real free time.
