Chapter 20
Chapter Twenty
MAX
I should’ve checked the weather in DC before I got on the train. I don’t know why I somehow thought the weather would be nicer here than in New York.
I lug my suitcase through the train station, looking for the exit. It’s a bit of a maze, but once I find it, I’m hit immediately with the rush of cold air. I had seen the snow falling while looking out of the train window, but I sort of hoped that the closer I got to DC, the snow would stop.
Unfortunately, it is close to fifteen degrees, and I am already freezing my ass off. I’m not built for this kind of weather. I grew up in California. I’m built for beaches and no layers.
I usually stay in the city for photoshoots, but occasionally I’ll take a mini vacation somewhere. Usually Boston, Jersey, or DC depending on the reason.
While I wouldn’t travel for weddings or proposals, I do make exceptions for brands.
Especially with this brand, the designer is extremely talented, and I’ve worked with her a few times in the city.
She creates clothes for all sizes with a special focus on plus-size women not looking like old ladies or pregnant.
I didn’t know it at the time, but I’d seen Cari wearing several of her designs.
They were always flattering, and always ended up on the floor.
I don’t know why I’m thinking about Cari. It’s been months since I’ve heard from her, since I’d even seen her. I don’t know what she is even up to anymore.
Aspen knows not to mention her anymore, and she’s been avoiding the group hangs. I can’t blame her; if she was going, I wasn’t. It’s not like anyone is icing her out, but on the same page, no one is insisting we both be there.
So many holidays have passed since I saw her; Valentine’s Day is next weekend.
Last year, around this time, she was dropping hints about me taking her out, and I remember booking a work trip at the last minute to avoid that confrontation.
God, I was kind of an asshole, wasn’t I?
I don’t know why but when it came to her, I just couldn’t tell her how I was feeling.
Maybe it was because I thought she might see through my lies.
She had a habit of knowing when I was lying, and it wasn’t easy to convince her otherwise.
“Max!” I glance up, hearing my name being called by my familiar pink-haired friend. Ellie is the designer I’m waiting for, her suitcase is being rolled by her partner behind her.
“Hey, El.” I smile. Ellie surprises me by hugging me and I hug back, letting go rather quickly.
“Hey, I’m Reese,” her partner introduces herself. She’s of similar height, with a cropped black haircut and a black leather jacket.
“Max.” I smile, shaking her hand.
“Our Uber is going to be here any minute. Are you okay heading to the space? Or do you need to go to the hotel first?” she asks, smiling.
“I’m all good, happy to get started.” I pat my camera bag. The Uber pulls up just as quickly and Reese loads their bags in the trunk. I help with mine, taking my camera bag to sit on my lap. I’m a little overprotective of her.
“Perfect! The bar is like twenty minutes from here. I think it’ll be the best location for my summer line.
It’s a cute queer bar. We stumbled upon it once by accident and had the best food,” Ellie goes on as we get settled in the car.
It’s close quarters with the three of us in the backseat, but we make it work.
“That’s great, and we have someone working on hair and makeup already you said?” I clarify.
“Yes, my assistant. I just hired her recently and she’s such a dream you’ll love her.
She’s not a makeup artist, but ours fell through last minute so she’s stepping in, and she’s very talented.
She’ll also be helping out with the poses.
She has a background in marketing and social media so she has an eye for it,” Ellie explains.
“Got it.” I nod.
Just as I’m starting to warm up, we pull up to the bar.
It’s a bright white building with a gray awning, the words ‘as you are.’ close to the top.
It’s next door to a bright red building with yellow accents, the contrast is a photographer’s dream.
I’ll have to remember to come outside once I get the camera set up and take a few shots.
Although the purpose is to shoot Ellie’s spring line, there is nothing wrong with promoting a queer small business in any way I can.
There is a big rainbow flag on the fence out front, but it is partially covered by fresh snow and still holding strong.
It’s on the corner of the block, just down the street from a firehouse.
“It has the best vibe inside. It’s somehow cozy and fun at the same time. And everyone who works there is super nice. I drag Reese here every time we’re remotely near DC,” Ellie goes on as we bring our bags through the snowy path to the front door.
Inside there’s a bit of chaos between the number of people and the racks of clothes. There are tables everywhere, which seem to be their normal spots. Which makes sense now why there’s chaos. It’s hard to make things look authentic while adding things that aren’t normally there.
Ellie excuses herself to take care of the chaos, and Reese takes our bags down the hallway past what looks to be either a closet or a bathroom.
I start unpacking my camera, making sure I have all the lenses I need handy, along with anything else I might need nearby.
I’m setting up the lighting settings to capture everything despite the darker lighting in here when Ellie sneaks up behind me.
“I want you to meet my assistant…” Ellie is still talking, but everything else goes quiet when I see Cari standing in front of me.
Her blonde hair in bubble braids, her makeup done as usual with pink lipgloss shiny across her lips, and a green dress with long sleeves that is a bit more modest than I’m used to from her.
It feels like a lifetime passes as we stare at each other, but I’m sure it’s only a second or two. I have a million questions racing through my mind as I see her. For some reason, I can’t seem to calm my heart for her.
“Uh, hey,” I say finally, offering my hand to Cari. I didn’t know what Ellie knew about us, and I wasn’t about to make an issue for Cari at what is seemingly a new job.
“Nice to meet you.” Cari follows my lead and shakes my hand. Her soft, manicured hand falling into mine.
“Okay, Cari is going to give you the model order and I’m going to grab something to eat. I’m starving!” Ellie excuses herself, but I wait until she’s out of earshot to speak.
“What are you doing here?” I ask quietly.
“I work for Ellie. I started like a month ago,” she says calmly. “I saw you were the photographer, but I didn’t want to make it an issue in my first week on the job. Plus, there wasn’t any way I could warn you. I didn’t think we should jeopardize our careers. Surely we can be civil?”
I pause.
Her response is calm and cool, she’s not doing some elaborate scheme to see me or get me back.
It really is just a coincidence, and she was right; we aren’t going to jeopardize each other’s careers.
I don’t know when she switched from influencer to assistant, but it isn’t the time to ask.
Or to ask why, even though I am curious.
“Okay, sure. I’m just surprised,” I admit.
“I understand. I’m sorry about everything, but I like this job and do it well, so I’d like to continue. But if you truly don’t feel comfortable I can make an excuse and remove myself,” Cari says, waiting for my reply.
“No, it’s okay. I’m sorry too, you weren’t alone in everything. We can move forward as coworkers for the day,” I agree.
“So, this is the model line-up. Ellie wants the vibe to be playful and gay, but to also focus on the bodies. We want it to be shown that the clothes are enjoyed by everyone, and everyone is enjoying themselves,” Cari explains, handing me a piece of paper.
I look it over, and none of the names sound familiar, so I watch as she continues pointing things out.
Cari is explaining the poses, the spots Ellie and the bar managers asked to focus on, as well as what to stay away from.
But it’s hard to focus on all the words she’s saying.
There’s something different about her; it’s almost like her aura, or something, is calmer.
I don’t know what’s different, but she doesn’t seem as wild as she did six months ago.
In the past, running into me would’ve sent her into a spiral and chaos of throwing things or getting drunk. But she seems to be taking it in her stride, as if she doesn’t even care. It is a little unsettling; not that I’m not happy for her. But I want to know what is different.
She looks the same, yet healthier in a way. There’s no weed pen tucked behind her ear where she used to keep it, but then again, she is at work.
Maybe she is taking care of herself? I wish I still had her on social media so I could take a peek to see what I am missing.
I’m half tempted to sneak to the bathroom and unblock her to check.
Do people get a notification when you unblock them?
I doubt it, but you couldn’t put it past these app creators.
If there is money in it they might not think twice about it.
“All good?” Cari asks, and I realize I haven’t been paying attention at all.
“Yup,” I lie, but she laughs, and I know she’s seen right through me.
“Okay, let me start over, but this time try paying attention,” she teases. Yeah, there is definitely something different about her.
It hits me all at once like a truck. This is the version of Cari I met the night River and Aspen reconnected at the first LULY concert.
She’s calm, funny, and beautiful. At the time, I thought it would just be a one-night stand, but instead, we spent the entire weekend together.
It was like every lesbian stereotype, we spent the weekend doing every position possible and talking about everything.
Well, almost everything. I didn’t tell her about Chelsea and our almost wedding—but everything else.
We laughed, made grilled cheese, smoked a little of her weed, and kept making plans.
When we first met, it felt so unexpected. I hadn’t wanted someone like that since Chelsea.
I don’t have the time to think about my last therapy session right now, but something Ben had said is repeating in my head. I can’t remember his exact words, but it was something along the lines of wondering what the effects of being closed off and ending relationships would do to me long term.
I had spent so much time trying to push Cari away that I never gave our relationship a chance.
I was a fuck boy, only letting her get close in the ways I allowed.
I hope after the shoot we’d have a moment to talk a little more.
As much as she thought she had to apologize, in reality it should be me apologizing to her.
I hate thinking about the way I treated her when, in reality, all I needed was a little closure and some therapy.