Calling Card

by Ashley Suzanne

  “With Michelle. She didn’t get a nap and to say she’s cranky is the understatement of the year. That girl…sometimes she’s such a damn diva.”

  “I wonder where she got that from?” I joke, immediately being sucker punched in the gut by an angry looking Briar.

  “Hey. I’m as low maintenance as they come, buddy.”

  “I’m sure that’s what all the supermodels say.”

  Furrowing her brow¸ she puts one hand on her hip and uses the other to poke me in the chest, “Ex-supermodel. Don’t get me started, Dex. I’m still country enough to kick your ass.”

  Putting my hands up in defeat, I back away slowly until the corners of her mouth turn up into a smile and she shakes her head. She turns toward the door first and I follow suit, dragging my bag behind me.

  This is going to be a fun visit.

  *****

  Briar’s home is impeccable, even more stunning than the last time I was here. Her style cannot be rivaled; Briar’s decorated this place with class. She really did hit the jackpot when she found this place—three bedrooms, two bathrooms, large living space and a view to kill for.

  You’d think with two women living here, it would be frilly and feminine, but that never was Briar. Much like myself, she’s a fan of sharp lines, neutral tones and has an eye for artistic design. I always wondered why she took to modeling as opposed to photography; she would have been wonderful.

  “Make yourself at home,” she says, tossing her purse on the couch and walking into the kitchen. “You hungry?”

  “I could eat.” I’m easily distracted by the photos she has hanging in the foyer. Briar might be one of the least vain people I have ever met, so to have the images of her modeling career staring back at me is a shock to the system.

  “When did you put these here?” I ask.

  “My parents had them blown up, framed and sent to me. Something about not forgetting where I came from,” she replies, brushing off the subject.

  “They’re beautiful.”

  “I would hope so. You took them. Don’t you remember?”

  Staring at the first image, the memory hits me.

  “I’m just getting ready to close up. Do you want to make an appointment?” I ask the girl walking through the door to my two room studio.

  “I’ll come back another time,” she whispers, turning around to walk back out the door.

  Had this been any other day, or any other girl, I probably would’ve let her leave, but something in me said to talk to her, see what she wanted. “Hey, wait a second. How can I help you?”

  Slowly spinning to face me, her face is flushed and I can visibly see her hands shaking as she holds on to a piece of paper. “I don’t know if you can help, but you’re the only photographer in town. Do you do headshots?”

  “Like for models?” In the three years I’ve had my studio, I’ve never been asked for anything like this. Most of my time has been spent taking landscape shots and then the occasional newborn session or senior pictures. I’m not opposed to branching out, but she doesn’t strike me as the modeling type—she’s almost too innocent for that industry.

  “Yeah. My mom sent one of my pictures to one of those casting call things and I guess one of the people there liked my look. He sent this letter and asked for headshots.” She hands me the crinkled piece of paper.

  “Have you ever done anything like this before?” The flush makes its way from her cheeks, into her blonde hairline and down her slender neck. “I’ll take that as a no. Let’s see what we can do.”

  Taking her by the hand, I lead her to the back part of the front room where I have a canvas set up, usually for those newborn sessions. We’ll make it work.

  “What’s your name, Sweetie?”

  “Briar Kennedy,” she says, looking down to her feet.

  “Briar, I’m gonna need you to not be so shy. Just stand there and follow my directions. We’ll get you something to use.”

  I set the camera up on the tripod, and while I’m looking through the screen on the back, I can see exactly what the director saw in her. The innocence is the lure. She’s pure and sweet. Exactly what this industry is going to need in the future. One can only sign so many anorexic pill poppers before the interest fades.

  “Turn to your left and look at me over your shoulder,” I tell her, watching as she cautiously pivots until she’s exactly how I want her.

  “Like this?”

  “Perfect,” I mutter, the sound of the camera flicking in rapid succession.

  The thin strap of her tank top falls down her arm. Reaching across her torso with the opposite hand, she grabs the fabric, dragging it back to where it belongs.

  That’s it.

  Perfection.

  “I think we’ve got it.” I pop the memory card out of the camera, walk to my laptop and bring up the nearly thirty images I took in a matter of minutes.

  “That’s all? I thought it would take longer,” she says, moving to stand behind me, her hand resting on my shoulder as she leans over to see the monitor.

  “I’ve never taken headshots before, but I think I got the one.”

  Using the finger curser, I hover over the thumbnail. When I double click and bring it to full size, I know in my gut I was right.

  There’s no better image to show exactly who this girl is—sexy but innocent. Sweet but dangerous.

  “Wow,” she breathes.

  “Yeah. Pretty much. Wow.”

  “I still can’t believe that was the picture that started all this,” I say, waving my arm wide.

  “I know right? I don’t think I’d even turned eighteen when you took them,” she giggles, bringing a plate of fresh fruit and two bottles of water into the living room.

  While we’re catching up, bullshitting about things going on that don’t relate to my recent mess, Katelynn comes bounding through the door with the neighbor.

  “Dex. Dex. You’re here!” she squeals, running into my waiting arms.

  “How is my favorite girl?”

  “I’ve missed you. Do you want to have a tea party with me and Leanne?” I glance over at Briar, who’s stifling a laugh.

  Leaning over, I whisper, “I thought the neighbor’s name was Michelle?”

  “Leanne is her imaginary friend. Just go with it. I don’t have the heart to break the news to her.”

  Squeezing Katie a little tighter, I reach down and grab the crate at my feet, setting it on the couch next to us. “I’d love to, but me and mommymommy and I are talking. I’m sure if you ask Ralphie, he’d love to join you and Leanne.”

  Taking Ralphie out of his carrier, Katelynn pulls him into her arms and snuggles against his soft fur. If I were to do that, he’d be a hissing mess, but with her, it’s always the same. I think she might be his favorite if his incessant purring is any indication.

  After she runs off to her room, Leanne and Ralphie in tow, Briar excuses herself to get the trio situated. Things haven’t been that great for her since Erik, her husband, died.

  Briar ended up being picked up by a fairly large modeling agency after she sent in the headshots I took. Within two years, she had been on the cover of nearly every magazine, walked runways all over the world and banked enough money to buy this amazing apartment outright. While she was staking a claim in this industry, she made sure to tell everyone about me and my skills. Without Briar, my career would probably still be stale in a five hundred square feet storefront. Everything I’ve accomplished over the last ten years, I owe to Briar.

  We tried to date during that time, but the space got between us. I was always out of the country and didn’t want to move away from Indiana permanently and she was happy in New York. Within a few weeks of us breaking up, she met Erik, her late husband, while out with a group of girlfriends. They started dating almost immediately and within a month or so, Briar found out she was pregnant and Erik did the honorable thing and married her. Briar chose family over her career and did her last shoot when she was three months pregnant with Katel
ynn. That was a little over five years ago.

  When people say they have it all, Briar and Erik did. From the second their eyes met, they were in love. Everything was falling into place and progressing the way it should when you’re destined for greatness. Naturally, he moved into her apartment since it was paid off, but continued to work on the police force in Newark, where he was a bright young officer. I remember the day Briar called to tell me that he was on track to make detective before he turned thirty.

  About two years ago, Briar started to worry about all the extra money he was bringing home, but he always brushed it off as playing lottery or something like that. It all came to a head when the Chief of Police showed up at her door at three in the morning one night to inform her that Erik had been killed in the line of duty.

  Only, it didn’t end there. Obviously, there was an investigation and the department figured out that Erik was dirty. The night that he died, he was shaking down Chad O’Neil, one of Jersey’s most notorious drug kingpins. Erik illegally burst into Chad’s cook house, shot him down and tried to get out with about sixty grand in cash and ten thousand more in drugs. The funny thing—well, not really funny, but Karma has a crazy way of getting her nails in someone—but it wasn’t one of Chad’s goons that killed Erik. It was Chad’s psychotic sister, Bethany, who murdered him before he even left the cook house.

  With all the filth brought into the light, Erik’s funeral costs were left to Briar instead of the department. That week was the first that I had visited New York in over a year. Erik wasn’t the kind of man who wanted his beautiful model wife spending time with another man, especially the man that I was … am. Against her wishes, I paid for all the expenses, sparing nothing.

  Regardless of the fact that Erik was a dirty bastard who nearly ruined his family with his selfish actions, he was still Katelynn’s father and my best friend’s husband. He didn’t deserve the dirt he was buried beneath, but these two girls did. They still do.

  I promised them during that visit that they weren’t alone. Briar tried going back to work, but after having Katelynn, she wasn’t in the best shape. She’s still as beautiful as the day I met her, but models in this town don’t have wider hips and a little extra meat on their bones. I’m sure she could have pulled strings with companies she’s worked with before, but I think she had too much pride and probably a little self doubt with the way her body changed over the years.

  So, since the day Erik died, I’ve had Briar on my payroll. She might work a few hours a month, but has more than enough money to keep her and Katie living the life they’re accustomed to. Managing the models isn’t an easy gig and there’s nobody better to keep the circus under control than a former model herself. Briar’s saved my ass on more than one occasion.

  This time being no different.

  “I’m gonna toss my stuff in the guest room,” I say, walking down the hallway past Katie’s room.

  “Yeah, that’s fine. You can put your toiletries in my bathroom, though. We don’t need an incident like last time.” I laugh at the memory of Katie playing with my shaving cream and trying to give sweet little Ralphie a haircut. Yet, still, that cat adores the little shit.

  Tossing my bag on the bed, I flip on the television, wondering what’s been happening in New York since I’ve been here last. The voice of the anchor of the tabloid TV show booms across the room, and I reach for the remote to kill the volume when I hear what he’s talking about.

  “We’ve finally been able to reach a rep for international photographer Dexter MacFadden. If you remember from earlier in the hour, Person Magazine broke a story early this morning of a sex scandal reaching across the globe.”

  Sex scandal? How the hell is this a scandal? I wasn’t trying to hide anything other than my identity to protect the clients I had and my safety. I’m not a politician. I didn’t take an oath promising to keep my dick in my pants. If anything, this is the furthest thing from a scandal. Never once did I break my professional moral code and fuck a model or designer.

  Sitting on the bed, I continue listening to this news outlet—if you can call it that—run the name I’ve spent my entire adult life to make through the mud.

  “His Public Relations team released a statement via Dexter’s website stating that he’d be taking a few weeks away from the camera, letting this slanderous story blow over. They also mentioned bringing legal action against Person Magazine, claiming they were negligent in their fact finding.”

  Damn right, we’re going to file suit. There was absolutely no reason for this story to have ever been run, especially with me being interviewed under the guise of a credible article instead of the scummy exposé it actually is.

  “The last place our team was able to track Dexter was entering a private airfield at Freeman Municipal Airport in Indiana. According to Air Traffic Control, they were able to tell us the plane landed somewhere in New Jersey. Our guess is Mr. MacFadden has or will be boarding a commercial jet overseas. He tweeted two days ago that he was bound for Russia later this week.”

  That’s the first piece of good news I’ve heard since all this started. At least they think I’ll be lying low out of country and not in the City. I’ll have to stay out of sight for a week or so, until this dies down, but there’s little risk of them finding out I’m with Briar and Katelynn. The very last thing I’d ever want is to bring this shit to their front door. They’ve been through too much already.

  “You’re not watching that shit, are you?” Briar asks, crossing the threshold into the guest room and flicking off the television.

  “I turned it on and it was right there. I just wanted to see how they were playing this. I know I’m a good photographer, but never figured I’d make that rag show. I’m sure this means I’ve made it.” She giggles at my slight joke and starts putting my clothes in the drawers.

  “Don’t let it get to you, Dex. As soon as one of those Kardashian sisters has a baby, gets married … or divorced…the attention will be off you. It’s just a slow week, obviously. Enjoy your time with me and Katie. You’ll be back on the road, conquering the world and its women before you know it.”

  Walking up behind her, I pull her in my arms, resting my chin on the top of her head. “You know you’re the best, right?” I place a long kiss in her hair, squeezing my arms around her shoulders.

  Patting my forearms, she sighs, “Yeah, I know.”

  “I’m gonna take a shower. Wanna order dinner in? I had Nicholas put some money in that account I set up for you so they can’t track me by my credit cards.”

  “Chinese?”

  “Yep. You order and I’ll meet you guys out there in a few minutes.”

  Walking out of the guest room together, I head into her room to shower in the en suite while she heads into the living area. Shutting the door behind me, I turn the water on, letting it get hot and steam up the bathroom. Deciding not to shave today, I strip down and jump right in. The scent of Briar’s cherry blossom body wash hits me first. She’s used the same brand for as long as I can remember, to the point where if I just catch a slight tinge of the cherries, she’s the first thing on my mind.

  I grab my small white bar of soap and bring it to a thick lather, the strong scent of citrus and wood overpowering Briar’s cherries. Rinsing myself clean under the spray, I use whatever shampoo Briar has in here since mine’s still on the counter. The things a man will forego when he’s starving, especially when Chinese delivery in New York City is on the line. I’ll just have to go until my next shower with my hair smelling like coconut and vanilla.

  Dry and dressed, I walk into the living room where Briar and Katelynn are sitting on a large comforter on the floor with small, white containers full of food and forks next to them. Pausing before they notice me, I watch them … my family—the only family I —enjoying themselves. The floor creaks beneath my feet and Katelynn’s the first to turn her head.

  “Dexter, come on. Mommy said I can choose the movie tonight. We’re going to watch Toy Story,” she
says, bouncing over to me, grabbing my hand and dragging me back to the pallet on the floor. When she’s comfortably nestled between Briar and me, she flips on the TV and the opening credits start playing.

  Briar passes me a container of satay shrimp and Katelynn one of plain white rice. Taking large bites of my dinner, it hits me. This is where I’m supposed to be. Right here, in New York, with my best friend and her daughter. There’s nothing keeping me in Indiana other than a cold, lifeless hotel room. If I move to the city, I’ll be able to spend my time working here and not traveling so much. And I have a family.

  “Don’t worry, she’ll be out as soon as she finishes her rice. Apparently, she didn’t nap at Michelle’s, either, so she’s overdue for some sleep,” Briar leans back and whispers.

  “I’m fine. I don’t mind this one actually. I’ve always been partial to Buzz anyway.”

  Throwing her head back, her long blonde hair dangling nearly to the floor, she laughs, “Of course you have. I wouldn’t expect anything less from you.”

  Briar wasn’t lying, within twenty minutes of eating her last bite of food, Katelynn passed out, head in my lap and feet in Briar’s. I waited another ten minutes to make sure she was sleeping good before I picked her up and carried her to bed, letting Briar tuck her in and kiss her goodnight.

  Back in the living room, I start picking up the trash from our meal and folding the blanket, setting it on the arm of the sofa. Pulling my phone out of my pocket, the alerts hitting my inbox are astounding. It seems that every blog across the country, and some in Europe, want to talk about my sex life. I clear all of those notifications, choosing to open the email from Nicholas.

  You know what they say about twenty-twenty hindsight? Yeah, well, I should have left well enough alone and finished this wonderful evening off as that … wonderful.

  “Sorry man, just got word that nearly every shoot you had scheduled has been canceled going out six months. We’re on it. Lay low and I’ll catch up with you later in the week.”

  That’s basically the gist of it. I’m out of work. Not sure how all of this works, seeing as I’m my own company, my own brand. Am I unemployed? Or just unemployable?