It's almost 7 am when I wake up, and the sun is still barely peeking through my blinds. As I get dressed and brew my coffee, Natalie's eyes drift in and out of my mind, like a swirling wind with dancing leaves. The same eyes that kept me up nearly the whole night. I would imagine living such a luxurious life can be tiresome for her, having to constantly be proper and polite. Or maybe she's sad because she wanted to play with toys but instead had to learn Latin. What I wouldn't give to have had that kind of life. Not that I should complain, I am very fortunate to have my parents. Their love affair is what lead me to believe in my foolish ideals of true love. They're my inspiration for finding my love of a lifetime. I suppose I should have chosen a better career in this case. Models aren't exactly my cup of tea, and the women I have encountered who are not models are more like vipers.
I look over at my clock. It's almost eight thirty, I guess I better get going.
I arrive at the Blanche residence at a quarter to nine, and wait patiently with all my equipment by the gate. Their home does not look too impressive from the front, at least not from this angle. I try to peek inside but am startled by the gate opening. A small, old Mercedes drives up to me and two men get out of the vehicle. I'm guarded now because I don't know what they may do. They lean over and pick up my luggage full of equipment required for the shoot, and gesture me to get inside the car. That's what I call VIP service. The driver turns around and drives us up to the mansion. I guess I was wrong, this house is rather impressive after all. And heavily guarded. In my research of the Blanche family, I had found out that Henry Blanche was running for office, which would explain the excessive sentry.
I realize during this long drive up the road that I forgot to tie my hair back as I always do before a shoot. In my excitement to see my baby doll model, I completely forgot. As we reach our destination, I can see my crew setting up for the shoot the right way. After Mrs. Blanche told me she hired a bunch of goons to set up the shoot the day before, I immediately told her to stop what she was doing, and that my crew would take care of it. Jerry, my right hand man, told me it was a disaster. Big surprise.
As I get out of the car, I nudge one of the guys holding my luggage and ask for a rubber band, not realizing one of my guys may have one instead.
"What do you need that for?" big guy number one asks me.
"To tie my hair back, you got one?"
"Sorry, Boss," he replies, "Haven't got one."
I sigh deeply and hold my hair up with my hand, greeting everyone as I walk through the set and ask around for a rubber band or string, anything. I get to a small tent that will staff the caterers when they arrive and sit down on a lone chair. I begin twisting my hair in an attempt to wrap it around into a bun. My hair is so slick and straight it becomes next to impossible to achieve this.
"Here," a dainty hand appears out of nowhere, handing me a small hair tie. I look up to see a familiar porcelain doll face, and become speechless. I take the hair tie without taking my gaze off her.
"Thank you," I finally manage to say, "You must be Natalie, I'm-"
"Mr. Jacque Ramos, I know, my mother said you're taking my pictures today," she interrupts me. Her voice doesn't sound at all like what I had expected. It's more husky and feminine. And her sad eyes never take time off, it seems. They looked even sadder now in person.
"Yes, she made it sound like you were too shy to talk to me directly, most up and coming models need to be more aggressive and upfront about becoming models Miss Blanche," I say a little too harshly.
"It's just Natalie," she replies.
"Okay, Natalie," I stand corrected, "if you wish to become a model, and succeed, you need to be more assertive, otherwise you'll get trampled on by the smallest thing."
"Hmm," Natalie didn't seem the least bit interested in the advice I was giving her. Almost as if she didn't care to become a model. Why the hell am I here then? Natalie looks up at me again with her sad eyes, making me blush noticeably.
"You can keep the hair tie Mr. Ramos, mother doesn't let me tie my hair," Natalie says coolly and walks past me. I turn round to watch her walk. Leaving me to wonder what her mother did to make her the way she is now. Something happened, not just between Natalie and her mother, but definitely something I have yet to discover. Although our first encounter was not what I had anticipated, I will be able to interact with her at a different level while working together. As we finish setting up, Natalie comes out with her mother, who is double checking her dress and following her like a jockey coddling his award winning race horse. Natalie does not look happy, in fact, I can sense rebellion in her. Yet she refuses to say anything against her mother.
"Oh man, another one of those," Jerry comments behind me.
"What do you mean?" I ask.
"You know, mothers living vicariously through their daughters because their lives are unfulfilled," Jerry says, and I lightly slap myself for not realizing it sooner. Maybe that's why she's so sad? No. That can't be it. There's something deeper going on.
"Poor girl won't last in this industry," Jerry begins to whisper as the duo gets closer to the set, "I heard from one of the maids that the daughter was institutionalized for the last three years, but no one seems to know why."
"You shouldn't listen to idle gossip," I snapped, finding myself believing this rumor to be true.
"No, it's true," Carlos, our gaffer, chimed in, "I think that might be why the mom is so overprotective of her."
How the hell do these guys find out all this stuff in the three hours they've been here and all I got was a hair tie. Fuck.
"I'm ready for my close up, Mr. Demille," Natalie attempts to joke with me, and I smile, trying to hide my blush.
"All right, everyone, lights!" Click. Click. Click.
Each shot was different and captivating. I rarely gave her directions. She is definitely a natural. Which was unfortunate for me, because it meant less interaction.
I got it!
"So, Natalie," I begin as I take more shots, "tell me a little about yourself." Click. Click.
"Why?" Natalie asks with a raised brow. Click.
"My specialty is capturing the individual uniqueness of a model, and although you are a natural, I have now grown accustomed to your various looks, and I'd like to capture something unique about you."
"Um, okay?" Natalie stops posing and changes her expression quickly, "Like what?" Click. Click.
"Well, like your hobbies," I ask as I stop aiming my camera and kneel down to raise my tripod, "Have any hobbies like surfing, playing an instrument, drawing, painting, cooking, anything like that?" Natalie looks down with an unwavering look I had not seen before, and I quickly take pictures.
"I like," Natalie looks over her shoulder, hesitantly trying to tell me, "flying kites." Natalie begins to blush. Click. Click. Click.
"Is that all?" I ask, looking over my camera to take a look at her blushing face.
"Well," she begins, and looks around again, making it clear to me that she doesn't feel safe.
"What are you looking for?" I ask after lowering my camera on the tripod.
"A way out," she replies lowly. I look over my camera again, our eyes locked to one another. Her eyes have completely captivated me. I have an unbearable urge to reach out and hold her. Her eyes are trying to tell me a story, but she holds herself back, as if someone is preventing her from speaking.
"Alright guys, take five!" I shout, never taking my eyes off Natalie, "Would you like something to drink?" She looks away, blushing, and puts her finger to her lips.
"Is it alright that you asked for a break? You won't get into trouble, will you?" she asks so sweetly, it takes everything I have not to swoon.
"No, I'm pretty much my own boss," I walk closer to her and take a seat beside her, and she seems nervous now. Natalie scoots further away from me, making it obvious she doesn't like any physical interaction. "Are you alright?"
"I'm fine," Natalie replies almost a little irritated.
"Am I making you uncomfortable?" I ask as I prepare to get up.
"No," she startles me by grabbing the ends of my sleeve, as if some kind of cry for help, "she's not paying attention since you sat down, don't leave." She looks up at me with pleading eyes now, making me wish I had my camera to capture those eyes.
But...
It also got me thinking that I should keep her best pictures to myself. I don't really want to share her with the world. I want more than anything to find out why she is trying to be so inconspicuous at the moment, however.
"You mean your mother," I say as I look out towards the green field to find Mrs. Blanche.
"She means well," Natalie starts, "it's just that she says I can't fly kites."
"Oh? Why is that?"
"Because it reminds her of my father."
"Your father? You mean Mr. Blanche-?"
"That man is not my father," Natalie says with such spitefulness. I look over back to her and smile. She looks back at me with a blank stare, and gives me a weak smile in return.
"Why are you being so nice to me?" she asks. I lean over, hands intertwined and sigh.
"Because you loaned me your hair tie," I respond. She chuckles lightly and looks down.
"I heard from Jenna Swanson that you can be mean, I thought you'd be impatient with me."
"Well, yes, it's my reputation to be a little aggressive, but Jenna," I pause trying to think of the right words to use, "Jenna was clearly trying to get into my pants, which is highly unprofessional." Natalie's eyes go wide and she bursts into laughter, making me smile.
"Did she really make it that obvious?" Natalie asks in between her laughter. I nod and she continues to laugh. "Oh that Jenna, so desperate for affection." She wipes a small tear from her eye smudging her mascara.
"Oh, let me get Christa to fix that for you," I get up and walk back towards the crew to find Christa. I swirl around them trying to find her, but have no luck.
"You guys know where Christa might be?" I ask my crew.
"Yeah she went to the restroom, Boss," Jerry answers me in between bites of his bagel. I make my way back to the tent that currently houses my baby doll model with a cup of water for her, and slow my pace after hearing some quarreling. I stay hidden behind the curtain drapes.
"I know, mother!" Natalie apparently does have enough gall to stand up to her mother, "You don't have to keep reminding me every time!"
"Dear, I'm only trying to protect you," Mrs. Blanche sounds so condescending, "After this shoot, you need-"
"You need to leave, he'll be back soon," Natalie interrupts. Mrs. Blanche stays silent for a moment.
"Don't get any ideas about that photographer, he may be handsome, but handsome will only get you trouble. Please reconsider Grant's proposal, I only want you to be happy."
"Mother, I already told you just like I told Grant Fairbanks," Natalie sounds repulsed by saying his name, "I will not marry that man, I'm a grown woman, let me make my own decisions."
"Very well, I'll find a way to make you see it my way then," Mrs. Blanche says coldly.
"Like you did with Charles?" Natalie snaps back.
"Natalia Holstein, we agreed not to discuss that anymore," Mrs. Blanche sounds like she has prepared to walk away, "It was a long time ago, we had to do it. You know that."
"Of course mother, I have to remind myself everyday," Natalie sounds muffled and unsure of herself, like she wants to cry. I decide to finally step in with a cup of water in my hand, trying to smile and forget what I just heard.
"Excuse me, I hope I'm not interrupting anything," I cut across to sit next to Natalie and hand her the cup.
"No, mother was just leaving," Natalie swirls the water in her cup before taking a sip, "Thank you."
"I just wanted to know," Mrs. Blanche tries to hide her uncomfortable stance, "how much longer until you have all your shots needed for the session?"
"Well," I lean my elbows over my knees and sigh, "How badly do you want her to be a model?"
Mrs. Blanche smiles and turns to walk away.
"Thank you," Natalie says again.
"No problem," I answer, "the water is free." Natalie smiles, looking at me with those saddened eyes once again.
"Why so glum?" I ask without thinking.
"Oh, I'm not glum," Natalie tries to assure me, but I can see through her already, "I just get annoyed with my mother easily, she's always bugging me."
"Well," I reach into my pocket and pull out a small make up bag, "I couldn't find my make up artist, but I did find her travel kit. Mind if I retouch your face before we get back to it?" Natalie shakes her head.
"Not at all," she says with wide eyes, "you know how to do make up?"
"Yeah, a little trick I picked up in college from an old girlfriend," I unzip the bag and search for the liner, "Always know your way around all aspects of the career you want to get into."
"Hmph, that's clever," Natalie says as she pushes her hair back.
I trace the bottom of her eyes, then brush her face lightly with powder, and apply mascara. It may have been my imagination, but I know sexual tension when I sense it. As I applied the blush she looked at me with eyes that didn't look so sad anymore; more like eyes of desire. I found myself staring back at her, probably looking at her with the same eyes full of desire.
"Okay," I say at last, breaking our tension, "all done." Natalie grabs my hand and doesn't break her gaze from me.
"Will you help me?" she asks fervently, making me a little aroused, the warmth of her soft hands doesn't help.
"Help? With what?" She smiles and blushes, while biting her bottom lip.
"Finding a way out of this place."