"These are beautiful," she says, looking at the photos intensely, mesmerized by the model in the pictures.
"Natalie is to thank," I say, leaning my arms across my lap as I look at Alice's reaction. She pulls another photo out of the pile and looks at it for a long time. Alice looks up at me and smiles. Alice is only twenty years older than me, making her 47. Her hair is kept natural, with streaks of silver and blonde. She ages gracefully, adorning her wrinkles with dignity.
"This one," she finally says and hands the photo to me. Natalie is laying on my bed. One leg draped across and the other with her knee pointed up, her head is tilted back, face unseen and her arms are propping her up. I wonder why Alice would choose this one.
"Well, you can't see her face," I respond, and Alice keeps her smile as she raises her brow to me.
"Exactly," Alice says through her teeth, "everyone will want to know who she is after they see how well she is posed in this photo. That one and," she turns back to the pile she made of the ones she chose, "...these."
I look them over again, and realize her face isn't showing, but her striking poses are indeed remarkable. Sometimes I forget how lost in the moment I get and just take the pictures as I go without thinking.
"This is why you are the best at what you do, Jacque," Alice compliments. I chuckle at her compliment and continue to look at the photos.
"You think they'll want these? Are you sure?" I ask with a hint of doubt in my tone. Alice huffs in annoyance and smirks.
"Just trust me on this," she says confidently and takes the photos. "I trusted you when you decided to take those summer catalog photos in the Mojave Desert while it was raining, remember? And how well that ended, they wouldn't stop talking about it for weeks!" I smile while rubbing my chin, remembering the shoot. I was angry that day because it suddenly started raining, and the catalog was due the following week. The weather man said it would rain for the rest of that week, and I didn't have time, so I took a risk. Without even considering the fact that it hadn't rained like that in the Mojave Desert in years, I had taken pictures of the models with drenched faces and clothes.
"Besides, this girl has massive potential, I don't doubt her abilities," Alice added as she picked up a photo and gave me a smug look. "I'll offer these to the line of perfume Stockard Prince wants to release this season."
"Perfume? What is it called?" I ask, and she chuckles heartily.
"Lingerie," Alice says, and I begin to chuckle alongside her.
"Are you serious?" I ask in my laughter.
"It's called Majestic Beauty by Stockard Prince, we have yet to brainstorm any ideas to advertise it, and I think once I present these at the conference tomorrow," Alice collects them all and puts it into her envelope, "they will definitely take them."
"You're great, Alice," I rise from my seat and prepare to walk her out the door, "thank you, I really appreciate all you're doing."
"No, thank you, Jacque," Alice says with a sly smile, "Wherever did you find this model? I've never heard of her, she's very good." As I open the door for Alice, I give her a wild smirk.
"Natalie Holstein." Alice contemplates for a moment before stepping out the door.
"Call her in for tomorrow, I'd like to meet this Natalie," and with that, Alice walks downstairs, leaving the sound of her footsteps echoing in the hallway. I take a deep breath and pull out my phone to call her. She didn't have a cell phone, so I got her a little one that she'd be able to hide from her mother. The phone rings for a while, and I start to think she had left her phone somewhere. C'mon Natalie, pick up.
"Hello?" she finally answers almost out of breath. My heart feels like it's trying to jump out of my chest once I hear her voice.
"Are you alright?" I ask half halfheartedly.
"Yeah, I'm fine, I was just exercising." I sigh in relief; I don't know why I was so worried. Her living situation has me on edge, and I don't really know if her mother still tries to make her do those ungodly things. What a horrible mess.
"Well, I have some good news," I say after clearing my throat.
"Really?" she asks enthusiastically.
"Alice loved the photos and she wants to meet you tomorrow," I walk over to my window after I hear a car drive up, "...and she thinks she can use them for a new line of perfume," I say distantly, as if I'm distracted. It prompts Natalie to worry.
"Is everything okay, Jacque?" she asks at last. I watch as two well dressed men get out of the car. One goes to open the passenger door for someone, a woman with her hair tightly pulled back in a ponytail steps out of the car. I immediately recognize her and make my way to the door.
"Jacque?"
"Yeah, everything's fine, listen Natalie, I'll call you back, I gotta go," I say quickly, and end the call. I rush downstairs and greet her with an embrace.
"Jackie, my boy," she says as I hug her tightly.
"Mother," I greet tenderly, "why didn't you call first? I would have cleared out the studio if I knew." My mother rolls her eyes and lightly slaps me.
"You are my son, I don't care what your place looks like, as long as you have tea," she walks past me and makes her way up the steps. The two men lock the car and stand by the entrance to the apartment building.
"Uh, Mom?" I ask inquisitively, and my mother slightly turns to look at me, "Why are these men standing by like bodyguards?"
"Oh, your father thinks I need more protection," my mother says as she continues to walk up the stairs, "Since I was attacked a week ago, he insisted I-"
"Wait, what?" I can't believe what I am hearing and ask it rudely, my mother gives me a warning glance, "I just meant: How did I not know about this?"
"I just told you," Mother says sarcastically, "It's nothing to worry about, I'm fine!" I sigh and follow my mother into my apartment. She takes a seat at the table as I prepare some tea.
"Your brother Laurence is out of rehab, as well," mother says as she takes off her sunglasses and looks around my place. "Did you know about that?"
"Not really, but it's no news to me," I say, keeping my eyes on the tea pot as I pour the water. "We haven't spoken in three years, you know that."
"Well, I just thought you would like to know he is finally finding a way to earn the money he stole from you," my mom is so patient.
"It's not the money I care about," I turn the flame on and get the coffee mugs out of my cabinet, "It's about him constantly lying to me, and to you and dad." My mother looks down and shakes her head.
"I know," she says despondently, "I don't know where I went wrong with him, you and Marcos and Lucien all did wonderfully in school and went on to great careers, but Laurence..."
"Mother, it's nothing you did," I reassure her while pulling out the tea bags and setting them in the mugs, "Laurence, he just, fell in with a bad crowd, and didn't want to listen to anyone. It's not your fault." My mother takes a deep breath and gets up from her seat, walks over to the kitchen counter and rests her hands delicately on the coffee mug.
"I need to talk to you about something," she finally says in her serious tone.
"Sure, shoot," I pull out the drawer with the utensils and take a spoon.
"The Blanche family," my heart drops and I look at my mother curiously, "don't look at me like that, you may be too old for me to smack, but I can still do it," my mother says jokingly. I snicker and return my attention to preparing the tea.
"What about the Blanche family did you want to know?" I ask as I shake a packet of sugar in my hand.
"I heard from a little bird that you are doing a job for them," she sounds concerned, "I just thought I should warn you."
"About what?" I ask with a smile. My mother pulls up the stool and sits down.
"Natalie, the daughter, is engaged to that wretch, Grant Fairchild-"
"Fairbanks," I absentmindedly correct her. My mom picks up a sugar packet and throws it at my face. "Geez, okay, sorry."
"Anyway," she continues, "so, you know already?" I nod amusingly to her, and she rolls up her sleeves. "Don't get too close to that girl." I drop my head and sigh deeply with my arms propped up on the counter.
"Mom, she's not engaged to that guy, she doesn't even like him." My mother huffs at me. "It's true! Natalie and I are rather close," I mean to say without insinuating that we're a thing. My mother goes into her purse and pulls out a newspaper article, lays it out on the counter and points to a specific paragraph.
"Look, it says it right here," she begins to read, "...shortly after his return from a business trip in New York, Mr. Fairbanks made a statement at JFK airport that he is sealing the deal with Natalie Blanche." I pull the paper off the counter and read it. I feel a dread in the pit of my stomach; surely this is a mistake.
"Why are you so worried about my relationship with the Blanche family?" I finally ask.
"There have been stories circulating for a long time that her mother, Elizabeth, has taken actions to prevent her daughter from having friends or boyfriends, and you know I don't trust women like that, women who are overprotective of their children like-"
"Mom," I cut off; she gets so heated I have to stop her, "What is this about?"
"You are my first child, my first son," she says sweetly, "I worry about what you get yourself into sometimes, and this woman, she is dangerous." I chuckle at this, knowing how cowardly Elizabeth Blanche appears to me, so I have my doubts.
"I really don't think Elizabeth is capable of doing anything to harm me, mom," the tea pot starts to whistle, I take it off the flame and shut it off.
"How close have you become with this Natalie?" she asks.
"Uh," I smile, remembering Natalie's sweet kisses, "We're kind'a close."
"Ay, Diosito Santo!" my mother starts into her religious rant in Spanish, "Are you sleeping with her?" I give my mother a smug look, making her rant even more, so I shake my head.
"No," I reply, "I haven't slept with her."
"But you are seeing her?"
"Don't repeat that," I hand my mother her tea and smile wickedly.
"You avoid every girl I've ever set you up with and you pick the one you can't have! Ay, Dios mio!"
"Mom, mom," I try to stop her Spanish ranting, "It's not like that, she's different."
"Que? Different?" she practically shouts.
"Yeah," I say as I lean back against the counter with my tea in my hand, "When she looks at me, it's like we're one person, and the world doesn't matter. Even though we've only known each other for a short while, it feels like our whole lives, and her eyes," my mother looks as if she'll cry, "Her eyes tell a story; one that the world will soon know about."
"You have your fathers' romantic side," she takes a sip from her tea and sighs. "I thought you'd be single forever, but I'm happy for you, Jackie."
"Why do you say Elizabeth is dangerous?" My mother takes another sip and sets her mug down on the counter.
"Because the little bird also told me that Mrs. Blanche hired someone to take care of the last man who took a special interest in her daughter," my mother replies. I lower my brow.
"What do you mean?"
"Elizabeth Blanche is a selfish and conniving woman who will stop at nothing to make sure her daughter marries that Grant Fair-whatever," my mother waves her hand dismissively and takes another sip, "I don't want that to happen to you." I stay silent for a long time and wonder if I should ask Natalie myself. Or are they just rumors?
"...I heard from one of the maids that the daughter was institutionalized for the last three years, but no one seems to know why..."
I'm remembering Jerry's words now, of all times. Making myself doubt Natalie's story. She may have lied to me. For all I know, she could have made it all up. Why would my mother lie to me?
"Mom, who was this little bird?" I ask, trying not to seem inconspicuous.
"One of the bodyguards your father hired used to work for the Blanche family, he told me everything."
"Did he mention anything about Natalie being institutionalized?"
"Yes, he did tell me, but," my mother enjoys gossiping, and starts to talk to me like she would one of her girlfriends, "he also told me that she was only away for nine to ten months, and that she was pregnant with some man's illegitimate child, so the whole thing was a cover up."
"...I've never had a boyfriend..."
Natalie...
"...My mother used me as a means of getting what she said we needed..."
What else haven't you told me...?
"I'm telling you, as a loving mother, you should keep your distance from this girl. Her mother acts like she is the goddamned Messiah!" I can't help but stare off into space, and wonder, as my mother continues her rant.
I think it's time I started asking more questions.