Chapter 1 #2
Jonathan was on the watch for a new face.
He knew what he liked, knew what he wanted, knew what would sell.
The right lad would be comely but bedraggled.
He would be old enough to know his own mind but with a freshness that would cause imaginations to run wild.
He might need a bit of cleaning up before he was ready for the camera, but Jonathan prided himself on being able to see the truth under the dirt and to know how to frame it.
His wandering took him close to Neal Street, where he’d found a few of his most dazzling subjects in the past lingering outside of The Lion’s Mane pub.
The area had a reputation for providing a very specific sort of treat for the same clientele who stumbled all over themselves to purchase his special photographs.
Jonathan took up a spot leaning against the wall in the shadows, brought a thin cigar from his pocket along with matches to light it, then leaned back to wait.
Someday, he would love to bring his camera out to that particular spot.
His business thrived on portraiture, but he enjoyed capturing landscapes and moments in the city as well.
There was more life teeming within what could be a single composition of that corner of Neal Street than in every one of the stiff and proper ladies, gentlemen, and families who visited his studio to be preserved in their snobbery for all time.
If only he could capture the light that spilled from smudged streetlamps, the glow of fires within the pubs, and the bursts of laughter or shouting when the doors to those pubs flung open, spilling their sodden souls out onto the street.
“Oy! Get back here, pretty boy!”
The shout coming from an alley between two dull buildings pulled Jonathan out of his musings. He puffed his cigar and turned to watch as a young man with blond hair and flailing limbs dashed out into the street.
“Get him!” a second voice, another lad, younger than the blond, if Jonathan was any judge of age, which he had to be to avoid the law, sailed through the air.
A total of three adolescents chased after the blond, who might have been twenty, but might also have been twelve.
The young man’s eyes were wide enough for Jonathan to see how blue they were in the lamplight.
He skidded to a halt and looked up and down Neal Street, panicked and desperate for escape.
His hesitation cost him. The three lads caught up with him, the largest of them tackling him to the dirt and refuse of the street.
Jonathan took a last suck of his cigar, tamped the end against the wall, dropped it, then moved forward to get a better look.
“Get his shoes!” one of the lads shouted as the biggest of them pinned the squirming, fighting blond down. “They’ll fetch a fortune.”
“His cap, too,” another of them said.
Jonathan was not usually one to intervene in trouble on the streets, but the blond had ignited something in him instantly.
The way he silently struggled, the twist of misery on his pinched face as he thrashed against boys who were both younger and bigger than him was intriguing.
His clothes were a step above what most street rubbish wore, which would explain why the lads wanted his shoes, but he had the same wan, half-starved look of any other urchin.
The man had a story, Jonathan could tell at once, and he wanted to know what it was.
“You there,” he called out, making his voice sound as authoritative as his father’s. “Leave the man alone.”
“Bugger off,” the largest of the boys said.
Jonathan continued to approach them. One of them backed off and turned to run, but the other two kept up their assault of the blond.
“I’ll call the police if you don’t let him go,” Jonathan insisted.
“What do I care?” the largest boy said. “All the coppers here are on the take.”
The other lost his nerve. He glanced up at Jonathan as if assessing whether he really would. After a blink, he made a decision and darted off, snatching the blond’s cap as he went.
Jonathan was out of warnings for the largest lad. He reached into his coat pocket for the policeman’s baton he’d acquired for situations exactly like this and smashed it across the largest boy’s head.
“Oy! Fuck!” the lad shouted, spilling off of the blond, one hand held to the side of his head.
“Want another?” Jonathan asked, brandishing the baton.
Jonathan knew full well that he wasn’t a fighter and didn’t have the kind of strength to do much real damage with his weapon, but his presence was enough to convince the lad that the blond wasn’t worth it. He stood, spit at Jonathan, made a rude gesture, then ran off.
Jonathan watched, hand clenched around the baton, until he was certain the assailants were gone and didn’t plan to return. Then he looked down at the man at his feet.
The blond had curled into a ball in the muck and was shaking like a leaf. Tiny, wretched sobs rose up from him, breaking Jonathan’s heart. And damn him, but Jonathan had far too much heart that was too easily broken.
“They’re gone,” he said, crouching and brushing a hand over the blond’s hair. “You’re safe now.”
The blond shook his head and rolled into a tighter ball. His sobs became more pronounced. Of all things, he rested the side of his face on Jonathan’s boot.
A dozen heated emotions rushed through Jonathan all at once. Compassion was only one of them. Desire outweighed that purer emotion by a lot. Wicked, intense, and ever so slightly shameful desire.
“Come on,” Jonathan said, brushing his hand through the man’s hair so he could get a better look at his tear-streaked face. “Up you come. Let’s see the damage.”
He shifted back slightly, tucking his baton back into his coat, and stood, bringing the young man with him.
Jonathan’s heart beat faster as the young man stood, unfurling his limbs and body like a flower blossoming.
He wasn’t as slight as Jonathan had first thought, or rather, he was smallish and lithe, but not emaciated.
His skin had a healthier glow than most wretches from the street.
He kept his face downcast at first, but Jonathan grasped his chin and tilted it up so he could get a better look.
As soon as the man’s shocking blue eyes met his, Jonathan lost the ability to breathe. There were universes in the young man’s eyes. He might have had the stooped shoulders and limp stance of defeat, but those eyes held explosions. They contained the secrets of the gods in their wide, dark pupils.
“I have a proposition for you,” Jonathan said, the same as he’d said to a dozen young men before him, but with a new and tantalizing feeling. “Have you ever had your photograph taken?”
The young man was nothing but confusion for a moment. So much that Jonathan wasn’t sure he’d actually heard him.
Finally, he shook his head.
“Would you like to?” Jonathan asked.
The young man merely blinked at him, as if words were a foreign concept.
“I am a photographer,” Jonathan explained. “I take a very specific kind of photograph that I sell to a unique sort of gentleman. I pay five shillings, I’ll feed you and give you a bath, and you never have to pretend to know me if you see me again.”
The young man’s face pinched in confusion, but still he said nothing.
“I photograph nudes,” Jonathan said, wanting to be honest without saying too much and frightening the man. “In particular positions,” he added, checking to see if the young man understood.
After a few seconds, the young man drew in a sudden breath as comprehension dawned.
Jonathan smiled. “So you understand?” he asked.
The young man nodded. His eyes danced like the flames in the lamps hanging from the pubs.
“Are you interested?” Jonathan asked. He desperately hoped the young man said yes.
He didn’t usually care, and yet, he was on tenterhooks as he waited for the swirls of thought and consideration to coalesce into something in the young man’s eyes.
Finally, after what felt like an eternity, the young man nodded.
“Good,” Jonathan said, letting go of the man’s jaw at last. He turned with a gesture for the young man to follow him, but quickly pivoted back and asked, “Are you older than eighteen?”
The young man nodded.
Jonathan smiled. “Perfect,” he said. “Follow me. I think this will be an arrangement that we’ll both benefit from.”
He walked on with the blond following, already planning the different ways he would capture his youth and vulnerability for all time.