Chapter 15
“Thank God it’s Friday, am I right?” Lori asked me and Taisha as we rode the elevator to the RLF office. “First week of photoshoots are wrapping up, and I’m glad our location for today is on the roof because I get to check out the shoot! Are you looking forward to having a weekend off? Any plans?”
“My cousin’s having a party this weekend,” I told them.
“Oh, nice!” Lori reacted. “We’ve been keeping all of you so busy this week. I’m sure you’re ready for a break.”
“It’s been a lot of fun,” Taisha replied. “I’ve actually enjoyed it.”
“I’m looking forward to seeing the final images,” I answered, sidestepping the question.
Hell yeah, I’m looking forward to having the weekend off!
I needed a break, and I needed some time to recuperate.
Spending one week not seeing Russ at all, followed by one week seeing Russ almost every day while we pretended not to know each other, was too much.
On the surface, it was uneventful—just a few sidelong glances and the unmistakable feeling of his eyes on me when my back was turned.
But internally, I was in turmoil. I wanted him.
The attraction was intense. The thing that took me by surprise was how I longed for his company just as much as his dick.
If I were being really honest with myself, I missed spending time with him. I missed being with him. I missed the way he made me feel. The Funny One was hilarious—truly a good time. The Smart One was incredibly intelligent—such a good conversationalist.
But Russ—
My eyes widened as I stared out the opened elevator door.
Russ!
“Mr. Long,” Lori greeted him cheerfully as we exited. “Have you had a chance to meet Taisha and Nina? I know I introduced you to Matias and Jonah, but the ladies weren’t around during that introduction.”
He nodded, only briefly glancing over at us with a tight smile. “Yes, I met them last week.”
“So, you didn’t see them in their outfits for the ball?” She gestured to us with her thumbs. “I was hoping you might’ve seen Nina’s boyfriend. She made him the RLF accessory!” Lori exclaimed, still amused two weeks later.
For the first time, Russ looked directly at me and stared silently for a moment. “What?”
I opened my mouth to respond, trying to figure out how to deny what she was saying without being obvious, but before I had a chance to come up with anything, Lori continued talking.
“She had him wear the shirt from your very first T-shirt press with a tailored suit! It was quite nostalgic and made such an impression! And the outfit reminded me of something you would wear, to be honest.”
He clenched his jaw before forcing a smile that didn’t reach his eyes. “I missed that.”
Oh, he’s pissed.
Lori continued as if she hadn’t thrown a grenade. “Yeah, and Taisha…”
She paid Taisha a compliment that I didn’t hear because I was still trying to find my voice.
Russ was a professional, so I knew he wasn’t going to say or do anything that implicated either of us.
But I was surprised his poker face wasn’t better.
The clenched jaw, tight lips, and darkened eyes made it evident to me, but I wasn’t sure if anyone else noticed.
Either way, I knew I needed to clear up the misunderstanding.
I cleared my throat lightly. “It wasn’t—”
“I’m sorry to run off in the middle of you telling me Taisha’s story,” he interrupted me, looking between Lori and Taisha.
“But I need to meet with the photographer before we can begin the shoot. We can catch up once everything is set up.” Pointedly not looking at me, he said his goodbye to us.
“It was nice touching base with you all.”
Without waiting for a response, he disappeared through the stairway exit.
“That man is about his business,” Lori told us, continuing to lead us to the showroom. “And somebody is in trouble.”
“You think so?” I asked, curious to get as much information as possible.
She nodded. “He has a tell. When he’s mad, he’ll fix his mouth like this”—she made her lips into a hard line—“and then he’ll address the problem. He’s a good leader and doesn’t get mad often. But he does like things to be up to his standard. And when it’s not, you fix it or you’re out.”
Taisha frowned. “He sounds tough.”
“He knows what he wants,” I stated unintentionally. When I realized I said the words out loud, my eyes widened. “I mean, it sounds like he’s cool, but if you don’t fix things when you have a chance, that’s it.”
Lori nodded as she opened the door to the showroom.
“Russell Long built this company from the ground up with his bare hands. He started designing and selling T-shirts when he was at Hamilton University. He brought in some people and grew that to designing and selling streetwear. And then he brought on his sister and expanded things more, and we’re now offering such a cool variety of garments.
” She opened her arms wide, gesturing to the racks of clothing all around.
“He does not play about his business.” Lifting her hand to Angelica, she called out, “I have the last two right here for you!”
Once Angelica had us styled to her satisfaction, we were ushered up to the roof. The view of the city from that vantage point was unmatched. We met a photographer who seemed surprised to see me.
It seemed like everyone from the company was up on the roof watching us.
Everyone except Russ.
It was a bit unnerving to have that many eyes on us as we worked and took direction.
As the RLF crowd had thinned out, people from other floors had come to spectate.
While I didn’t mind an audience, they were scrutinizing our every move.
We could hear them commenting on our appearance, our poses, and the way the clothes looked on our bodies.
To a certain degree, I understood that the RLF employees had a vested interest in the way the product was going to roll out.
Their jobs depended on it as much as ours.
But the remarks from the other spectators were uncomfortable.
Hearing some of the same comments that I would normally read in the comments section online was wild.
“Even though she’s big, she is so beautiful!”
“That top is a little too small for her.”
“She’s so brave to have the stretch marks on her stomach showing.”
“I wish I had her confidence.”
Since it was Friday and the afternoon was winding down, the crowd dwindled significantly. And I was ready to go as well.
“Okay, now, let’s bring you in,” the photographer stated, beckoning me over and positioning me in the back.
Again.
The photographer treated me as an afterthought for most of the shoot.
He captured group and solo shots of each outfit.
He placed me in the back, hiding me in most of the group photos.
He took fewer solo shots of me. He made subtle comments that weren’t specifically targeting me, but it felt that way.
I maintained my composure because nothing was explicit.
And to everyone watching, it would appear as if I was just the angry Black woman, when in actuality, I was a victim of his microaggressions.
I sighed.
During my last solo shot, everything was fine until I was asked to leap.
I looked down at my cropped white RLF hoodie and the high-waisted, acid-washed jeans I wore. Although I looked great, I wasn’t wearing a bra that could handle a leap.
“Excuse me,” I said to the photographer, moving closer to him. “I don’t think me jumping up and down is a good idea due to—”
“Your knees?” he guessed, giving me a sympathetic look and patting me on my shoulder. “Listen, this is the last shot of the day and it’s a low-impact jump. Don’t think too hard about it. You’re fine.”
Shocked and slightly taken aback, I made a face. “No. Actually my knees are fine. But since I’m not wearing a bra—”
“Is everything okay here?” Remedy interrupted, appearing on the other side of the photographer.
“Yes, the plus model had some difficulty with the instruction,” he told her. “But I think we’re all good now.” He ran a hand through his graying hair before giving me a thumbs-up.
“No, we’re not all good,” I clarified. “And my name is Nina.” I turned to Remedy. “I’m top-heavy and this bra tape has no support, so me jumping is not a good idea.”
“This is my photoshoot. I’ll decide what’s a good idea for my shoot,” he snapped.
“And this is my body,” I returned, just as forcefully. “I’ll decide what’s a good idea for me.”
Remedy’s eyes were large as she looked between the two of us. “Okay.” She clasped her hands together and took a step back. “She doesn’t do the leap.”
The photographer’s face turned red, and I could almost see steam coming from the top of his head.
“Can you lift your arms up and turn toward the sun?” he asked. “I wouldn’t want to ask you to do anything you’re not comfortable with.”
I lifted my arms and let the sun shine on my face. I moved deliberately, playing up my angles.
“Is it too much to ask for you to drop into a squat?” he asked sarcastically.
I squatted.
He sighed loudly. “Lower.”
I squatted lower.
“Lift your chest and squat lower.”
I was basically sitting in an invisible chair. He had me hold that position for ninety seconds. I know he was hoping I would break, but I was in the gym five times a week. I had one more minute in me.
In a stony silence, he snapped some pictures. When I had to stand after two and a half minutes, he smirked and then unceremoniously stopped.
“Where’s Mr. Long? Can you get Mr. Long for me, please?”
An assistant ran toward the exit.
I dropped my arms to my sides and waited. Unsure of what I was supposed to do, I looked over at the other models. They also looked confused. Slowly, I made my way to them.
“What’s wrong?” Remedy asked, rushing to his side.
The photographer glanced at me. “The vision I pitched to Mr. Long isn’t able to be executed if one of the models is difficult and uncooperative.”
My face twisted. “Difficult?” I muttered.
“I just texted him. Difficult how?” Remedy asked.