Coming into Focus by Daniels Eagan

Author:Daniels, Eagan [Daniels, Eagan]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: vk
Amazon: B09ZKK8SRD
Goodreads: 61070165
Publisher: Champagne Books
Published: 2022-05-16T00:00:00+00:00

Chapter Eighteen

A terrible chore awaited me the next morning: paying bills. To make it even worse, I hadn’t been exactly organized. Some paperwork was in my room, there were stacks on the kitchen counter, random things crammed in pockets, and a pile of unopened mail on the table by the front door. I made a stack on the kitchen table, poured myself a whiskey for courage, and settled in at the table for a marathon session. I promised myself a second whiskey when I made it through the pile.

I sorted receipts to record and bills to pay. When I got to the folded-up paper, I flattened it and started skimming it before I realized what it was: the contract Jimmy sent Hope. I skimmed the document for a void stamp or an end date, but there wasn’t one. I flipped through the pages until I came to the photo clause. It had a big “X” drawn through it. “Clause voided per Jimmy Standish,” it said, with Hawk’s initials. It was backdated to my first day with Jimmy.

I stared at it, processing what it could mean. Jimmy would probably have sworn to himself never to mention my name or think about me again, yet he did this for me. It felt like an apology.

I hadn’t finished processing it when my phone buzzed with a text.

It was from Hope. Go check your email. Then CALL ME.

I powered up my laptop and opened the email Hope forwarded me, with the subject line: “FW: Photo Release for Willa Reynolds.” The scanned attachments were standard releases, signed by Jimmy Standish and Benny Walker, making it even more explicit that I could sell the images I’d taken of the two of them together. Hope’s message above was brief: What do you have???

I sent back an email with a few of the best images. About three seconds after I hit send, my phone rang.

“Holy fucking shit. How long have you had these? Do you realize what you’ve been sitting on?”

“Hi, Hope.”

“Are you crying?”

I cleared my throat. “I’m fine.”

“There’s a Benny Walker story you haven’t told me,” she said. “I’m no leg expert, but I suspect those are your thighs those boys are between. Am I right?”

I felt my cheeks get warm. “Does it matter?”

“Not to me. You should come in and meet with Ken. I’m not the one who told you this but aim high. If he doesn’t make you a good offer, shop them somewhere else. You have more?”

“Yeah. I have a lot.”

“More of Jimmy?”

“More of all three of them. Jimmy, Eric. Oliver.” I started to tell her I didn’t have the right to those photos, then I realized I did. The contract was backdated—I owned the pictures I’d taken.

I owned every one of them.

“This is just off the top of my head,” Hope said, “but Ken might want to run a feature on it. ‘On the Road with Corporate,’ or something. Pitch it to him. Aim for a special off-cycle edition, but don’t settle for less than an eight-page insert.

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