Scorpio by Lauren Landish

Author:Lauren Landish [Landish, Lauren]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 2018-05-11T16:00:00+00:00

Hayden

“Move your arm down just a little,” the photographer orders as several blinding shots go off in my face. Frances is a skinny French guy with a bald head and hawk eyes. He pauses once, motioning at me with a hurried gesture.

Moving my hand down my stomach, I do as he says, all while trying to keep my pose. I’m wearing a towel balanced precariously around my waist, so there’s not much to it, but I’m careful not to let it fall. Something tells me Frances would like that a little too much.

“Yesss, yesss,” he hisses admirably in his French accent, moving around me like a snake and snapping multiple shots. “Perfect . . . pretty boy.”

I ignore him and zone out the sound of his voice, keeping my facial expression frozen and hard. He talks too much for my taste and seems to dig my physique in a way that makes me slightly uncomfortable. But it’s nothing I haven’t dealt with before. I just want to hurry up and get this over with.

For the second time today, I wonder how I ended up here, doing modeling jobs for second-rate labels. I had everything going for me in high school. I was practically destined for the big leagues. Everyone was convinced that I’d be the next big thing, the next baseball legend. Then the unexpected happened. A long fly ball, an outfield fence that was a little too low, a bad landing . . . and I was sidelined by an injury that wiped away my dreams of a sports scholarship to play ball. But a chance encounter with a scout a few years ago got me out of my small town, which was the real goal anyway, so I guess posing for some pictures isn’t all that bad. It’s damn sure not baseball though.

I swallow, clenching my jaw and forcing away the memory. I hate thinking about it. It just pisses me off and sets me off my game.

For my photoshoot, we’re using an abandoned building that looks like it went through World War II with stripped walls and dilapidated architecture.

There’s dust and debris strewn across the floor here and there throughout the large room, leftover remnants of a wall that was torn out, and gang graffiti was spray-painted on the wall behind me. But the worst part about it is the smell. It smells dank and musty, like the local bums come here to piss their drunkenness away. I’m having a hard time keeping a straight face through it all.

It definitely isn’t a spot that I would’ve chosen for the shoot, but it’s not like I really have a say in the matter. I shoot where they want me to shoot most of the time. Besides, posing in front of graffiti in a rundown warehouse is supposedly edgy and plays into the sexy bad boy image that I usually get booked for. Guess that’s what happens when you’re jacked, inked, and wear an aura of cockiness like a favorite leather jacket.

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