“Mark has family in Phoenix, so I’m sure he’ll want to go this time. As for being free to go, yeah, I spoke to my boss…well, my former boss, this morning. I’m as free as the wind, now.” She tucked the fat envelope into her back pocket.
JT opened his mouth to speak, but was interrupted by Paul, who shoved a photograph right up against JT’s nose. “Look at this one, will ya? It’s just bloody fantastic!” It was the shot Marcie had asked for, and one that Kori was particularly proud of.
JT snatched it from Paul’s hand, moving it away from his face to get a better look. “Can I keep this one?” he asked softly, his eyes never leaving the photograph. This was an utterly perfect shot. Vaguely, he heard the comments being bandied about a few feet away; Ian poking fun at the expression on Rafe’s face (“Is that how you look when it’s your turn to change the dirty nappy? Yuck!”), Clay telling Ian he ought to try harder to stay awake while he was onstage. He paid no attention.
He was still lost in the clarity, the lighting, and the sheer joy she had captured on his face. This says everything I can’t put into words about performing. The energy exchanged between the audience and us, the mind-blowing bliss of giving people a little happiness, of seeing and hearing a crowd of thousands singing along to a creation of your mind, something that did not exist until you made it. The connection, one-on-one, between five man-sized boys and each person in that venue.
“Well, sure, JT, you did pay for the option,” she said, blushing slightly as she watched the emotions flit over his face and trying hard to contain her own excitement. “I made two sets, so you can have that one.” He tucked the photo into his bag.
“These are amazing. You’re going to make Russell jealous. You did say we get to keep her, didn’t you, JT?” Paul asked, flashing Korina a wide grin.
“Yeah, JT, we can’t let her go after seeing these. There’s just something about posing for a woman that makes the pictures, I don’t know, just better.” Rafe gave her a rare public smile.
Clay and Ian were still oohing and ahhing over the images in their hands. “How’d she get you so close up, I wonder? You’d never know there’s fifteen feet of stage and an entire drum kit between you and her,” Ian remarked.
Kori overhead the quiet comment. “It’s a really strong lens. When Mark gets here, you can take a look for yourself, if you like.”
“I’d love to see that. I’m a camera nut. Is it autofocus?” asked Clay.
“No, it’s a manual pull and zoom,” Kori offered without thinking.
“I got something you can pull and zoom,” Paul chuckled.
Kori blushed. “I walked right into that one, didn’t I?” she said with a sigh.
“Blindly, luv, just blindly,” came his reply.
JT was standing back, watching the interplay. So I wasn’t wrong about what I thought I saw in the car last night. She blushes like a teenager. I don’t believe it. He couldn’t wait to see her reaction to the roll of film he planned to slip into her kit. “You did say you process your own work, didn’t you? Would you mind if I tagged along when you did these? I’ve never seen how it’s done before. And that way, I get to see them before this lot.”
“Sure, if you really want to. Technically, I’m still an employee for another week, until they pay out my last days of vacation. And hey, if my old boss objects, what’s he going to do, fire me?” She suddenly thought of Marcie. “The girl who will be on-shift is a huge fan. It’ll make her year. You don’t mind do you, that she’ll be there? Probably fawning all over you and drooling.”
“O’course not. I love to be fawned over. And drooled on,” he added with a sly half-smile.
“Oh, for crying out loud…” she muttered, “Is that all you guys ever think about?”
“No, sometimes we actually do think about music. But you’d be amazed at how fast those songs get written, so we can go back to thinking about sex,” JT countered.
Korina looked away, her retort forgotten for the moment, as she heard the familiar sound of Mark’s Suburban driving into the parking lot. She looked forward to the protection his presence afforded. She didn’t feel at ease with all of them just yet; only with JT.
She kissed Mark hello and took her camera bag from his shoulder. Mark passed the next hour getting to know the men she’d be spending much of her time with; Steven and Zach linked their PS2s and played the afternoon away. Korina watched and listened as she set up her tripod and loaded her cameras.
True to her word, once she was set up, she approached Clay with her long-lens Nikon. “Still want to check it out?” she smiled.
“Jesus, look at that lens! Hell yeah, I do,” he replied.
“It’s old-school,” she said with a twinge of embarrassment, handing him the camera.
“I prefer film, too. This is nice gear,” he said simply. “And heavy.”
“Yeah, the lens is glass. I don’t that that plastic stuff. Scratches too easy.”
Clay extended the lens full-length and focused it on the two boys. “Holy shit. They gotta be, what, three, four meters away? I can see the hairs on Steven’s face. This is like having binoculars with film. It’s no wonder you got those close-ups.” He continued to turn, focusing now on the cluster of his band and her husband. “Is it loaded? Can I take a few pictures?”
“Go right ahead. You have to wind it yourself, though. I took the power winder off. The lens was enough weight to deal with.”
Clay focused very tightly on JT’s nostrils, filling the viewer with them. He chuckled. “We’re paying you for these, right? So if I take some heavy blackmail shots, I get to keep them?”
“Yeahhhh,” she said slowly.
“Oh, good,” he grinned again. He shifted his finger to the shutter release button. “Gotcha, JT,” he said.
He took pictures of each of his bandmates, focusing on stupid and embarrassing moments. JT scratching his nose, looking like he was picking it; Rafe pulling his shorts from where they’d ridden up his butt; Paul with his finger in his ear; Ian picking a bit of lunch from between his teeth.
Clay was giggling to himself. They were usually careful what they did when he had his camera out; this was not the first time he’d taken his favorite sort of candid shots.
“You do know JT’s going to see them first, don’t you?” she asked. “He wanted to come with me when I process these.”
“Not to worry, luv. I’m confidant you’ll find some way to distract him from these,” Clay replied with a wink.
For the next few hours, Kori took photo after photo; the band with today’s teammates from her favorite rock station; the five of them playing; and all of them goofing with each other. She didn’t know much about soccer, so cheering would have been difficult. She was grateful for the excuse her camera provided.
The crowds had dwindled, and the late afternoon sun was no longer warm as the shadows grow long and deep. The band had all packed up their gear, awaiting the hotel’s shuttle-bus which was scheduled to arrive at any moment. Kori had her usual plastic bag full of used film sitting atop her camera bag. She left both on the player’s bench and walked over to Mark.
“Hey, honey, as beat as I am, I promised I’d develop these today. JT wanted to come along and watch how it’s done, for some reason. It might be a couple of hours. You don’t mind, do you? They wanted us to join them for dinner afterward, so you and Zach can just wind down while I’m gone.”
“No cooking? No cleaning up after? I’m there,” he said. He genuinely liked these musicians, although he’d expected not to. He’d assumed that the years of being chased by women, coupled with fame and money, would have turned them into assholes. He was pleasantly surprised to find they weren’t.
He’d discussed the band’s upcoming schedule with Kori while she photographed the match. They would all go to Phoenix, but, at least for the time being, she would go with them by herself after that. Not a long school weekend for two more weeks. He wanted to spend as much time with her as possible before they departed for Salt Lake
City. They had never spent much time apart, and he knew he’d miss her terribly.
Mark offered to take all of them back to the hotel in the Suburban, rather than wait any longer for the shuttle. It was big enough to seat everyone, and he wanted to continue the warm feelings and tentative friendship they’d begun. Moreover, he was a genuinely nice guy; the band were starting to shiver in their sweaty shorts and tees. They accepted his offer without hesitation and piled into the big green truck.
Before he got in, Mark hugged Kori tightly and gave her a lingering kiss. “See you at home? Don’t take too long,” Mark quietly said.
“I won’t. These are daylight shots, so they don’t need any special printing. Should I call when I’m done?”
“Nah. We’ll just be waiting for you,” he said, missing her already. He got in and started the engine, waving as he drove away.
JT, who’d not planned to return to his suite right after the game, had tugged a pair of sweatpants on over his shorts. “That’s your car there, isn’t it?” JT pointed one row over, directly at her twelve-year-old sedan, and began walking toward it before she could answer.
“How did you know?” Kori asked, jogging a few steps to catch up.
“You didn’t exactly sneak into the lot.”
“Oops. My car likes it loud. What can I say?”
“Your car?”
“Yeah. You’ll see when we get there.” She smiled, thinking of her system to bribe the quirky car into starting.
She unlocked his door, then her own. JT folded his tall frame into the passenger seat. “Sorry, Zach usually sits there, so the seat’s all the way forward. You’ll find the release between your legs.”
JT raised his eyebrows and stared at her, then started to chuckle.
“Oh, shut up! You know what I meant! I swear…” she shook her head slowly.
Kori reached forward to turn down the volume on the stereo; the tape was still inside. “Now, watch,” she said, pressing in the clutch and turning the key. The car failed to start.
“And now…” She turned the volume knob, then repeated the clutch and key. The engine roared into life, followed swiftly by the loud, moaning lead vocal of ‘Allnight Lover.’ “See? She won’t start unless it’s Slanker Knox, and it has to be loud. I’ve found bribery works much better than threats.”
JT turned down the volume so he wouldn’t have to almost-shout to be heard. “Got anything else to listen to? I have a hard time listening to our music. I keep picking it apart in my head.”
“Sure, the tape case is behind your seat.”
JT quirked a brow. “Tapes? Not CDs?”
“I’m poor, remember? Besides, it’s the stereo that came with the car and it still works, so I’m not wasting money on something I don’t need.”
JT reached back and found the nylon case easily. He closed his long fingers around the end and tugged. It was wedged tightly under his seat and didn’t budge. He shimmied the case back and forth, struggling it free, then dragged it into his lap. He unzipped the top and was pleasantly surprised at the variety of music inside. The Doors, AC/DC, Queen, Def Leppard, several Slanker Knox titles, Bob Marley, Vivaldi’s ‘The Four Seasons’ and a tape of mixed classical selections. He selected the Vivaldi and switched tapes. The interior of the car was filled with the opening violins of ‘Spring.’
“Shhh, don’t tell anyone I like classical. Might ruin my image,” he said, grinning.
“Most people who write good, melodic rock songs do like it, and it shows in the music,” Kori answered. “But don’t worry, your secret’s safe with me.” They pulled out of the lot and headed for Kori’s store, only ten minutes away.
JT wasn’t concerned with hiding his presence while he was there. Even if he tried to conceal his identity, he felt certain this Marcie person would give it all away. Best to not even bother trying. Besides, he expected to draw attention with Kori’s responses to that bonus roll he’d slipped into her bag.
They arrived, and JT introduced himself to a dumbfounded Marcie while Kori went off to buy more caffeine. She was really starting to feel the effects of that missing hour of sleep. When she returned, energy drink in hand, Marcie was gushing at JT about how much she liked Slanker Knox, how he was her favorite, and how much she enjoyed the show the night before. JT was listening politely, responding that it was the fans who made it all worth doing, and he was so glad she liked the concert.
Kori said, “I hate to interrupt this little mutual admiration society thing, but if you want to see how I do it, JT, you need to come over here and watch.”
“Oh, I do love to watch,” JT said, not at all softly. Kori smacked him on the arm.
“Can we be serious here for just one minute? After all, you did pay for these. Let’s not ruin them, okay?” He watched her pull a roll of film from the bag. Not last night’s, yet. That one was a 400 ISO, and easy to spot amid all the 100 ISO rolls. She extracted the tip of the film with special tape, cut the end, placed it in a loading cassette, taped it to a big white plastic card, put a numbered sticker on it, and shoved the whole works into a slot on the front of the processor. She never once looked at what she was doing.
“ How do you do that without watching your hands?” he asked.
“Years of practice. My hands just know what to do. Like how you play your guitar. After a while, you don’t have to watch what you’re doing. Want to try it?” She shook the bag of film in his face.
He looked at it skeptically.
“You can’t hurt it, JT. And I’ll be watching, to make sure you tape it right so it doesn’t come off in the chemical tanks and get stuck there.”
“Okay, but you moved so fast, I don’t know if I got it all. Stay right here and tell me what to do.” He reached into the bag and pulled out the roll he’d snuck in earlier.
She walked him through the process of pulling out the end of the film and getting it ready to develop. The film didn’t want to come out of the canister. He taped it crooked and had to peel off the tape and do it again. Marcie stood by, trying to hide her giggles. She knew exactly how he felt; everyone had trouble at first. By the time he had it done, the film intake port on the processor was empty, ready to plug in another roll. He slid the loader in a bit crooked and got it stuck, then backed it out and tried again.
“Use both hands, and slide it in slow and easy,” Kori said softly.
He was too frustrated with the process to even think of any risqué retorts. She took his hands in hers to guide the film loader into the port. At the touch of her fingertips to his skin, she felt his angry embarrassment cloud her mind. She twitched, started by the connection, but kept her hands on his, guiding the film loader into place smoothly and locking it in.
He made no move to pull his hands from the front of the processor. His skin tingled where she touched him and her eyes grew wide and unfocused. He suspected she was picking up his emotions and, damn the devil, he wanted to know for sure. He deliberately thought of a very lewd response to her ‘slide it in slow and easy’ comment, and thought it hard.
She smiled and accidentally (on purpose) elbowed him in the stomach as she lifted her hands from his. “You are so very bad,” she murmured. He found himself wondering how long the connection would last.
“I don’t know either, so your brain just better behave itself,” she said quietly. Louder, she said, “It takes about eight minutes to process into negatives. Do you want to try another, or shall I do the rest?”
JT refused to be defeated by a roll of film. This time, everything went smoothly. He handed Kori the loader for inspection before plugging it in.
“Perfect,” she said, feeling him calm and also swell a bit with pride. “Load ‘er up.” He’d liked the feel of her hands on his and deliberately loaded it crooked. She didn’t seem to pick up that it was on purpose. Once again, she took his hands and guided the film into the port. His reaction steamrolled into her head: mmm, warm and soft, it’s been so long since someone has held my hands….
Oh,
shit, she thought, alone with him doesn’t seem to matter. Even in public, I pick him up like a radio station. This could prove difficult. I forgot about how passionate people feel everything so strongly. And he projects his thoughts like he projects his voice. Clear and loud.
She pulled her hands back. “I’ll do the rest, or we may never get out of here.”
By the time she had the rest ready to load, the first roll was emerging from the negative dryer. She pulled a cotton glove over her left hand and picked up the long negative, cutting through the blue tape which fastened it to the plastic card. Without thought she wiped away dust particles with a treated cloth and fed it into the printing deck, punched several buttons on the front to set the number of copies, and with one final button punch, began printing.
“ Hey, slow down, I missed what you just did,” he said.
“Oh, sorry, I wasn’t thinking and let my hands go on autopilot,” she answered. “You can have the next one.”
The hot chile revenge roll. “Okay, then,” he replied with mock hurt. He watched her watching the prints fall into the catcher, still warm and slightly curled. These were all action shots on the field, and these, too, were impressive. Some were blurred, but most were moments frozen crystal-clear in time. The prints took five minutes to develop and dry, she explained when he noted that the long strip of negatives had finished running through the print deck, but prints were still emerging from the dryer and dropping into the print bin.
“We can start the next one, but here, you have to put this on,” she stated in a tone that broke no argument as she handed him a cotton glove. “Fingerprints can etch into a negative forever. I don’t want to ruin these.”
You just might. Once you see them.
He picked up the strip and wiped it down, as he had seen her do. Kori showed him how to feed it under the printer foot and how to set the number of copies. He pushed the final button to begin the printing. Just five more minutes, now…
Dream Me Off My Feet (Sex, Love, And Rock & Roll) Page 10
