Fair Play (4 page)

Téa

Today has been the longest teen drama-filled day I have endured since becoming a photographer for Crush. The only thing that’s kept me going is the thought of messaging with Emmett again tonight. Match Pro may have finally found someone worthy of my time. I had fun with a man last night. That hasn’t happened in forever. 

I toss my bag on the bed and take out my camera to download the shots and start editing. I’m hungry and hot and in need of a shower but the sooner I get these photos to my boss, the sooner I’ll have two days off. I can’t wait. I plan on spending them sprawled out on the beach doing absolutely nothing.

I scoot to the middle of the bed, cross my legs, and put my headphones on to start working. It's easy, the subject of the shoot was Coby Michaels, the hottest young pop singer on the music scene right now. He can’t take a bad picture, but the dancers and the models and the fans made the job a total bitch fest.

Some photographers love that scene - they thrive on the drama. Not me, I’d trade a good old family photo shoot for a day like today anytime.

I wonder if the football hottie ever got back to me about his family pictures. I grab my bag and rummage through it until I find my phone.

There’s a little red number 1 sitting on my phone app, one message waiting for me. Hopefully it’s from him.

I slide my headphones onto my neck and press play. The deep, commanding voice from the plane begins to speak, resurrecting that flip-flop feeling I had in my stomach the first time I saw him.

“Hi Téa, Nick Wood here, wanted to make sure I got back to you before your schedule fills up. Let me know if you can squeeze us in before you go back to Chicago, thanks a lot, bye.”

Even if I was booked up, which I’m not, I would make time for Nicolas and Scarlett. Hot, kind, and down to earth. I can’t think of anything I didn’t like about that man or his daughter. Why didn’t I ask him out again?

I press call back and pick up a pen from my pile of notes and flick it with my fingers while I wait for him to answer. 

“Hello.”

“Hey, Nicolas, this is Téa. I’m returning your call about the photo shoot.”

“Oh yeah, hey Téa, how are you?”

“Good, you?”

“Busy but good. Were you able to save us some time while you’re here?”

“Absolutely yes, I’ve got the next two days off. Will one of those work for you?”

“Tomorrow’s no good, but Saturday would be perfect. We leave on vacation next Tuesday. I’d like to have it all done before we go.”

“Saturday it is then. I can have the proofs ready for you on Sunday. Did you have a location in mind?”

“Yeah, how about the beach? We can do some on the Apache Pier too if it isn’t too crowded.”

“I love beach shoots. Do you want to try to catch either the sunrise or sunset? I could get some great shots with that lighting.”

“Let’s go with sunrise. Scarlet might not be cooperative at night. We could get a few shots and grab breakfast and finish up after we eat.”

That sounds a lot like a date. Did he just ask me out? I think eating together counts as a date no matter what.

“Breakfast sounds great, where should I meet you?”

“Why don’t you let me pick you up at your hotel? It’ll save you a cab fare.”

Now he’s picking me up. Yes, this is going down as a date in my book. I’ll consider it a job after breakfast.

“Sure, I’m at The Madison - do you know where that’s at?”

“The Madison near the beach?”

“Yep, that’s the one.”

“Yeah, I’ve heard of it.”

His tone says he’s more than just heard of it. It’s not the greatest place, but I didn’t know it had a bad reputation.

“Hey, it’s not that bad.”

“I didn’t say anything, but the magazine you work for might want to look into better accommodations for their photographers.”

“What are you trying to say, Mr. Wood? Was there a mass murder at The Madison? Or maybe a frenzied outbreak of bed bugs?”

“Do you really want to know?”

“Hmm, no. I guess not. The mass murder I could handle but bed bugs, not so much.”

“I think you’re safe then.”

“Thank God.”

He chuckles, and it sounds like he fumbles with the phone.

“Sorry, I’m folding laundry. I almost dropped you.”

“Laundry? Don’t rich football quarterbacks have people to do things like that for them?” I say, teasing.

“I used to. She hurt her foot, remember?”

“Oh yeah, you mentioned that on the plane. I hope she’s feeling better soon. Should I be worried about what you two will be wearing tomorrow?”

“No, I’m pretty good at doing laundry. I wasn’t always a rich quarterback, you know.”

“Okay, if you say so. But if you show up here tomorrow in matching shrunken shirts, we’re going to have to go clothes shopping after breakfast.”

“I got this, just don’t get murdered before we get there.”

“You got yourself a deal. See you at six?”

“Yep, we’ll wait out front for you. I’m not bringing my four year old in there.”

I chuckle. “You’re very dramatic.”

“You say that now, but I’d bet money the second we hang up you’ll be Googling the history of The Madison Hotel.”

“Nope, I don’t want to know.”

“Okay, don’t say I didn’t warn you. See you tomorrow.”

“Okay, bye. Oh, tell Scarlet I said hi.”

“Will do, goodbye Téa.”

The line goes dead, and I stare at my laptop. He’s right, I’m dying of curiosity now. I’m glad I didn’t bet him because I would have lost big time.

I tap in the hotel’s name and close my eyes. After a second, I open one eye and peek at the first result. Drug deal gone awry, six murdered, three injured at The Madison Hotel on Tenth and Stanton Street.

Shit, he wasn’t kidding, and it’s dated three weeks ago. I continue reading to see if there are details about what rooms the murders happened in, but the article is brief and to the point, like murder is a common occurrence here.

Well, it’s still better than bed bugs. I slide my headphones back over my ears and blast Numb by Linkin Park so loud anyone walking past in the hall could make out the words to the song.

It only takes me an hour to wrap up the edits of the boyishly handsome pop star. I hit send and cross my fingers that my boss loves them.

Two hours until Emmett time, just long enough to shower and eat.

Thirty minutes later, I’m walking down the beach with a sack of fish tacos from Calypso’s Tacos looking for a good place to have a picnic for one when I hear a woman’s voice.

“Téa? Is that you?” I turn around and stare into the face of my childhood best friend, Bridgette Fontaine.

“Bridgette?”

“I knew that had to be you! Nobody else has hair like that,” she says, pointing at my wild locks.

I laugh, and she hugs me so hard my feet come off the ground. When she frees me, I step back.

“You know how to hug, girl. I’m here to do a couple of photo shoots for Crush Magazine. I knew your family lived here, do you live here now too?”

“Yep, my husband and I moved out here five years ago to be closer to them. So you’re a fancy photographer for Crush now, huh? I always knew you’d make it big.”

“Oh, I wouldn’t call it that but yeah, living the dream.” I hold up my sack and spread my other arm out, gesturing at the ocean.

“That didn’t sound very enthusiastic. You don’t think eating tacos by the ocean is glamorous?” She chuffs and I roll my eyes.

“Well, it’s not like I thought it would be, but I can’t complain, I have a job, ya know. How’s Blake? Do you guys have any kids?”

“He’s Blake, a workaholic trying to save the world like always, and no, we don’t have any kids. Not for lack of trying though, that’s for sure, it’s just not happening for us I guess.”

“I’m sorry, that has to be hard.” I reach out and rub her upper arm.

“Oh, it’s all right, we’ve been talking about adopting lately, so who knows? How about you, are you married? Any little wild mini Téas running around?”

“No, no husband, no kids. Just me, but I haven’t given up yet.”

“Hell no girl, you’re still young, party while you can. Sometimes I wish I’d played the field a little longer before settling down. I love Blake and all, but we’ve been together since high school. I never got to go fishing.”

“Well, there aren’t as many good fish in the sea as everybody says, so I think you did the right thing sticking with Blake. He was a great guy back then, did he ever become a firefighter?”

“Yep, like I said, he’s out there trying to save the world.”

“So what are you doing out here on the beach on a Thursday night all alone?”

“Blake has a firehouse family night thing every couple of months. It’s going on up the beach a ways but I got restless, so here I am. You better eat those tacos, they’re nasty when they get cold.”

“I was looking for a place to sit, wanna join me?”

She looks back down the beach. “Sure, why not?”

Bridgette and I sit on the sand and listen to the waves roll in. She’s lucky to live here. I love the ocean. I could sit and watch it swirl and fold in on itself forever.

Bridgette lived across the street from me growing up. She was my only friend when my mom died. I was eleven, and I had my world ripped out from under me unexpectedly when she died in a car accident. None of the other kids knew what to say or how to act around me so they avoided me, but not Bridgette.

She knew there wasn’t anything to say or do but just be my friend. I can’t believe we fell out of touch for so long.

“Do you want one?” I ask.

“Oh no, I’m trying to lose weight, and we just ate barbecue at Blake’s get-together.”

I take a big bite of the tangy taco and close my eyes.

“Mmm, oh my God Bridgette, you sure? These are so good.”

“You’re a temptress, aren’t you? Aw hell, give me one. I’ll call it a cheat day, I had potato salad earlier anyway.”

“Fish tacos are good for your soul.”

“Yeah, but they ain’t good for my butt.”

“You have a great butt, always have.”

“My butt thanks you for the compliment.”

I lean back an inch or two and speak to Bridgette’s ass.

“You’re welcome.” She’s wearing a simple cotton maxi dress and gold strappy sandals but on her, it looks posh. She’s stereotypically overweight, but I envy her curves and the respect that they bring her. Nobody ever messes with Bridgette.

“How long are you here? I wanna have you over for dinner before you go back to Chicago.”

“That sounds great. I’d love to. I have the day off tomorrow and then Saturday I’m doing a family shoot, and then I have to work all day Sunday and Monday on another teenybopper shoot for Crush. I’m here for two weeks though. I’ll give you my number and we can figure something out.”

“Great. So you’re doing family portrait work too?”

“Yeah, I do it on the side at home. I’d like to start my own business, but Crush takes up a lot of my time. Oh, and guess who the shoot is for.”

“Who?” she asks, giving me a suspicious side-glance before taking a bite of her taco. A gust of wind sprays a fine mist of salty ocean water into our faces.

“Oh crap, you wanna move back a little bit?” she asks.

“No, I love it. I miss the ocean. I wish I could pack it up and take it back to Chicago with me. The sound, the smell, the way the water makes my busy life disappear.”

“You need to move here, girl. You sound like a mermaid land-locked in the Midwest. I wish the ocean took my busy life away, all it does for me is make me have to pee.”

I throw my head back and laugh. I love this lady.

“You kill me.”

“Yeah, my husband says the same thing, so it must be true,” she says with a dry tone, pursing her lips. “So you never told me whose picture you’re taking tomorrow?”

“Oh yeah, you’re not going to believe this, but I met Nicolas Wood and his daughter on my flight out here. We got to talking, and he asked me to do some family pictures for him.”

Bridgette looks at me with a blank expression. Maybe she doesn’t follow football?

“Nicolas Wood, you know, the quarterback for the South Carolina Hawks.”

“Oh, I know who you mean all right. I can’t believe you made friends with that hunk of man on the plane. I don’t know why though, you never knew a stranger all through school. I used to worry about finding you chopped up into little pieces in your trunk after you picked up a serial killer to give him a ride.”

“Oh my God, I wasn’t that bad. I just like talking to people, and we were in the safety of a Boeing 747 thousands of miles up in the air. They had a pretty buff flight attendant. She would have protected me.” I pop the last of my taco in my mouth and wad up the wrapper.

“I bet you made friends with her, huh?”