Read Iced Tea Online

Authors: Sheila Horgan

Iced Tea (24 page)

“Okay, but you aren’t going to the FBI alone.
 
I’ll go with you.”

AJ said he would go too, and after a moment of hesitation, Jessie volunteered as well, although it was obvious his heart wasn’t in it.
 
I’m sure he’ll be explaining that to Teagan later.

“No, Cara and I will go alone.
 
There’s a much better chance that some big strapping FBI guy will want to save two girls.”

“Teagan, I know you are all about the femme fatale thing, far be it from me to try to dissuade you, but chances are equally good that we will run into a female agent, or whatever they call them.”

“That’s fine, then we can chat about all things glamour, or sensible shoes, or whatever.
 
All I know is that you’re not going alone.
 
Don’t even try, or I’m calling Mom.”

“Don’t pull the Mom card.”

“Don’t make me pull the Mom card.”

AJ and Jessie looked so stunned at the exchange all we could do was laugh.
 
We really do sound like idiots sometimes.

AJ and Jessie did the guy thing, and argued over the check.
 
Teagan did the Teagan thing, walked up to the server and paid before they could stop her, I left the tip, and off we went, each headed in a different direction.

AJ went to take pictures of some gorgeous woman that would probably fall instantly in love with him and wish me dead.

Teagan headed for her office to sort out the latest things her boss had promised that they couldn’t possibly deliver.
 
She would charm the clients into wanting what they
could
deliver, and be thrilled with it.

Jessie took off to do whatever it is that Jessie does.
 
I keep meaning to ask Teagan what that is, but I never remember.

I went home.

I’m actually getting tired of not having a job.
 
I like the freedom of not having a job, but I hate the boredom of it.

I was home for about ten minutes when the phone rang.

“Hi beautiful, do you have plans for today?”

“Not really.
 
What’s up?”

“I got to work and the woman that was supposed to assist here today isn’t going to be able to make it.
 
Jovana has used her for a long time, but she seems to be skipping out on us a lot lately.
 
We probably need to hire someone else, but it’s a loyalty thing for Jovana, and she wants to give her a little more time to get back in the swing of things.
 
Would you be willing to help out?”

“I can do that.
 
I don’t know anything about photography, but I follow direction well.”

“Perfect.
 
See you in a little bit.”

“Am I supposed to be all dressed up like a professional person?”

“The perv side of me wants to say yes, but really, you need to be comfortable, you never know what you’ll be doing.
 
Besides, you always look great.”

“I love it when you lie to me like that.”

I hung up while he chuckled.

I ran into my closet, to the section of ‘Teagan forced me’ clothes, put on a pair of dark rinse skinny jeans, a long olive green spaghetti strap tank, a boyfriend blazer thing, with three-quarter length sleeves, and heels that are high enough that my legs are going to kill me tomorrow, but not so high that I am likely to fall and break my neck.
 
Some hoop earrings, a necklace that my sister Sinead gave me for my birthday, a red clutch purse, and I was out the door.

It kind of shook my confidence that I couldn’t drive in my heels, but I figured, that it was better to drive safely than look chic doing it, so I took off my right shoe, put it on the seat beside me, and drove the side streets to Old Town.

I pulled into the public parking lot, took the little ticket thingy and shoved it in my visor, which you’re never supposed to do, because if someone steals your car, they have the ticket to get out of the parking lot, but the people that build cars put a special little thingy there to hold the ticket, so I use it.
 
Chances of my car getting stolen, slim.
 
Chances of me losing the parking ticket and having to pay for 24 hours of parking, pretty good.

I pulled into a spot about four cars down from AJs spot, opened the door, put my feet down and stepped in something really disgusting with my bare foot.
 
I don’t know what it was, and I don’t want to know.

When dressing, I figured my heels were high enough to be interesting, but not high enough to kill me, but I didn’t plan on hopping to the back of my car to get something out of the trunk to wipe something really disgusting off the bottom of my foot.

I am proud to state that I hopped from the driver’s door, to the back of the car, without damage to myself or to my car.
 
I opened the trunk with the key; thank God I had the keys in my hand and didn’t have to hop back up to the front to pop the thingy.
 
I carry all kinds of interesting stuff in my car, and one of the things I use the most is baby wipes.
 

I pulled a bunch out of the little travel container, wiped the revolting yuck off the bottom of my foot.
  
Flung my foot around for a minute to let it dry, hopped back to the front of the car, put my shoe on, grabbed my purse, made sure I still had my keys in my hand, closed the door, and the trunk, locked everything up, and ran for the photography studio.

AJ was in the actual studio section, trying to figure out how he was going to set up an image he was taking later that day.
 

I always thought that photographers just pointed a camera toward something, clicked the button, and were done.
 
Turns out there's a bit more to it than that.

The really famous photographers have assistants to do everything but click the button.
 
AJ isn’t there, yet.
 
He has to do everything himself.
 
Market his work, do the work, document the work, do all the office stuff.
 
It’s a shame, because he really does the click part well.
 
Maybe some day.

He smiled at me.
 
“Wow, you look great.”

“Thanks.”

“That is your definition of comfortable?”

“At home, no.
 
Here, yes.”

“I know what you’re comfortable in at home, I love it, but here, you might need to run up and down the stairs, or climb a ladder, or whatever.
 
You are going to kill yourself in those heels.”

“You’re just jealous because I’m taller than you are.”

“You are not.”

“I’m close.”

“Close only counts in horseshoes.
 
Gee, my grandma would be proud.
 
She says that all the time.
 
You ready to get started?”

“I am.
 
What would you like me to do?”

“Well, there are a bunch of things that have to be done.
 
You can decide what works for you.
 
Jovana is at the bar.
 
She rented out one of the conference areas today.
 
There’s some company in town that wants all kinds of shots.
 
They want some of employees.
 
They want some of their products.
 
They want some for brochures.
 
It’s a good opportunity for her, and she might need a go-fer.”

“Okay.
 
That would be fun.
 
Anything I can do for you?”

“Right now, I just need to figure out what I’m gonna do for a group shot coming in this afternoon.
 
Why don’t you run down to the bar, see if Jovana needs help, she always keeps her phone turned off when she’s working, if she needs you, stay there, if she doesn’t, come back here and help me.”

“Done.”
 
I turned on my heel and headed out the door.
 
I was about half way to the bar, when it became very clear that sky-high heels and I don’t get along.
 
Crap.
 
It’s going to be a long day.

I walked in the bar and was immediately greeted by Jovana’s husband.

“AJ sent me to see if I can help Jovana.”

“Go back outside, go in the ballroom entrance.
 
Stay downstairs.
 
Go back toward the elevator, make a left, follow the voices.”

“Thanks.”

“Cara, Jovana is a very different person when she’s working.
 
Don’t let her put you off.”

“Thanks.
 
I’m sure it won’t be a problem.”

I followed the directions I was given and followed the voices down the hall.
 
Jovana was a study in concentration.
 
She was wearing all black.
 
She didn’t waste a single movement.
 
I waited silently until she turned.
 

“Sugar, I’m sorry, but I’m working.
 
I can’t do nothing else right now.”

“AJ sent me to see if I could help.”

“Oh bless that boy right down to his bones.
 
You ever been his assistant before?”

“No, but I follow direction well.”

“We’ll figure it out.”

With that came my first instructions as a photography assistant.
 
I never dreamed that taking pictures was so physically demanding.

We set up tables, we took down tables, we unrolled huge rolls of paper, we rolled them back up again, we carried heavy product and placed it, Jovana would click, then we would place it a different way.
 

Lights had to be placed, and then placed differently.
 

I had to keep watch so no one would trip over cords, or knock down lights, or battery packs, or silver umbrellas and their stands.
 

There were things to create light, things to bounce light, things to absorb light, things to diffuse light, and things to filter light.
 

There were cameras and lenses and computers and all kinds of stuff I didn’t even know the names of.
  

After a couple hours, I was pooped.
 
Actually, I was so tired my feet stopped hurting.

Jovana walked up with a big smile on her face.
 
“Sugar, we got it.
 
We got everything they asked for, we got it in great time, and I think that some of it was my best work.
 
Thank you.”

“I actually had fun.”

“Sugar, if that was your idea of fun, you have an issue or two.”

“I like detail.”

“I could see that.
 
You have a good eye for it.
 
You ever thought of being a photographer?”

“I can take a picture, but there’s a difference between a picture and an image.
 
Everybody that buys a digital camera thinks they’re a photographer, I know better.”

“Glad to hear it.
 
So, what’s next for you?”

“I’m going back to the studio to see if I can help AJ.
 
You want me to bring all this stuff back down there?”

“Not now.
 
I’m going to lock the door and leave it in place.
 
I’ll play around on the computer to make sure I have everything just the way I want it, and once I’m done, then we’ll worry about getting it all back to the studio.”

“Can I ask a question?”

“Always.”

“Why did you do the shoot here when you already had all your stuff at the studio?”

“My husband.
 
While all those people were waiting to have their picture taken, he was selling them food and drink.
 
For the brochures and product shots, I would normally just do them at the studio, but this company is very hands on.
 
Doing all the shots here, gave my husband a chance to sell them stuff, and while they were out with him, they were leaving me alone.
 
It worked out best for everyone.
 
That’s how to build a successful small business, Sugar.
 
Make sure that you always make every situation, a win-win for everybody involved.”

“Makes sense.
 
I’m headed back to the studio.”

“Sugar, can I make a little suggestion?”

“Always.”

“When you leave this place, turn left, not right.
 
Go to the end of the block, and cross the street.
 
You’ll see the movie theater on your right.
 
You go down into the courtyard, to the left of the theater.
 
There’s a little shop there.
 
They will have some reasonable shoes, so you can walk tomorrow.”

“That’s okay.
 
Besides, I left my purse at the studio.”

“Sugar, you tell them I sent you, and that you will pay them later.”

Other books

Friends ForNever by Katy Grant
Lab Girl by Hope Jahren
Win, Lose or Die by John Gardner
21 Days in October by Magali Favre
American Front by Harry Turtledove
Your Desire by Dee S. Knight, Francis Drake