CHAPTER 49 HR on Steroids
July 21, 2012
Becca:Can I see you in conference room 3 in 10 minutes?
Me: Of course. I’m finishing up at the studio with Lucas.
I’ll meet you up there in 10.
Lucas Lehmann was one of Haute Magazine’s in-house photographers. He had just wrapped up a jewelry and accessories photo shoot for our next issue, and I was his assistant for the shoot. We were almost done putting all the equipment away so I would be on time for the impromptu meeting Becca had summoned me for.
“Thank you, Billie,” Lucas said with his thick German accent. “See you next Thursday.”
“Of course,” I replied, heading toward the studio’s exit. I had three minutes before I had to be in the conference room, so I picked up my pace.
When I approached the glass panels, I spotted Becca and two men in suits who looked important, and my stomach tightened with nerves. Who were these men, and why did they want to talk to me? Was I getting fired? I quickly reviewed the last few days at the office inside my head as I gently knocked on the door before walking in.
“Hi, Billie,” Becca said in a businesslike tone, one she never used when addressing me. “This is Maxwell Chambers, Chief People Officer at Vellichor Media Group, and his assistant, Zach Cruz.”
HR on steroids.
Vellichor Media Group, or VMG, was the mass media company that owned Haute Magazine, among many other print, video and film, digital, and audio brands.
“Nice to meet you, Billie,” Maxwell said, and Zach followed.
“Nice to meet you two … too.” I mentally slapped myself. I’d been here for three seconds and had already managed to look like a fool. I smiled, hoping they wouldn’t detect the slight tremble in the handshake.
Zach chuckled.
“Billie, please take a seat.” Becca waved at the empty chair beside her.
I did as I was told and tried not to look alarmed. I loved my job, and the thought of possibly losing it was nerve-racking and anxiety-inducing. At least I had taken extra time this morning to blow dry my hair and choose a nicer-than-usual outfit since William and I were meeting my dad for dinner to celebrate his birthday.
If asked to empty my desk, I’d do so with dignity.
“Maxwell and Zach are interested in filling a position for VMG’s newest endeavor, Empire Magazine,” Becca explained. “It’ll feature cover stories on noteworthy individuals, events, and trends. And it will cover a wide range of topics, including politics, world affairs, health, tech, entertainment, culture, etcetera, etcetera.”
“It’s a weekly magazine,” Zach added. “So the environment is fast-paced and highly demanding.”
All I did was nod and twist my clammy fingers in my lap as I kept wondering what this open position was all about.
“There’s somewhere I need to be,” Maxwell intervened, looking at his expensive-looking wristwatch. “So let’s cut to the chase. When we approached Becca about wanting a photographer with a fresh viewpoint, someone who could capture a person’s real essence through their lens, she quickly mentioned you.”
“I showed them your Raw Portraits project,” Becca said proudly. “And your new Instagram account where you’ve been uploading the portraits.”
William had forced me to sign up for an Instagram account a few days after he returned from Prague. It wasn’t a personal account. All I posted were the portraits with a short caption each giving a little information about the subject. I’d been posting one every week and had been photographing co-workers and friends to have more content ready for the following weeks.
The first portrait I posted on Instagram was William’s. Thanks to his support in sharing the photo on his feed and asking his fans and followers to check out my page, I gained more than 150,000 followers in a few weeks, and the number kept rising.
“Renowned columnist Abigail Jennings has been given a permanent space in the cultural and entertainment section of the magazine, where she’ll write a piece on a different noteworthy individual every week,” Maxwell continued. “And your raw and untouched style of portraits is very much what the editor-in-chief is looking for. Abigail has looked at your work, too, and she approved.”
I was speechless. Portraits were what I loved most about photography. Connecting with the person sitting in front of me. Capturing their essence through the lens. Turning them into art.
“You would keep your job at Haute,” Zach explained. “But would be required to photograph whoever Abigail will be interviewing that week. The idea is to bring the person to the New York offices for the interview and photo shoot, but depending on their availability, you and Abigail might have to travel to wherever they are. But this would be rare.”
My heart raced with excitement. This job seemed like a dream.
“You would have a small but dedicated studio space for these photo shoots at this building since the magazine is settling on the 21st and 22nd floor,” Maxwell added. “The editor-in-chief and Abigail would have an in-depth discussion with you about their aesthetic expectations if you were to accept this offer.”
I nodded and tried swallowing, but my throat was dry.
“Your salary would remain the same, but you will get paid for every portrait you hand in, whether it gets published or not.” Zach slid a sheet of paper with the amount I’d get paid per portrait.
$500. That meant I’d be earning at least $2,000 extra each month on top of my salary. Wow. I felt a blush rushing up my neck and exploding in my cheeks.
Zach and Maxwell glanced at each other, and their eyes held for a beat. “I know this doesn’t sound like much, but as the magazine grows and the column becomes as successful as we think it will be, the payment can be renegotiated.”
“I think I can work with that,” I said, trying to sound neutral in my delivery. It seemed like Maxwell and Zach thought I considered $500 per portrait insufficient. But they didn’t know I’d be jumping on my chair if they weren’t present. “I would love to be involved in this project. Thank you so much for considering me.”
Maxwell and Zach exchanged a knowing glance, and with big, happy smiles, they rose from their seats. Becca and I did, too. “The job is yours, Miss Murphy,” Maxwell said, rounding the table and offering his hand to seal the deal. We shook hands. “Zach will handle the paperwork, and someone from the magazine will contact you when they’re ready to start.”
“I’ll email you with the details,” Zach added. “It was nice meeting you, Billie.”
“Likewise.” I grinned and silently thanked the gods. All of them. “Thank you for the opportunity.”
The two men walked out of the conference room, and once they were far enough out of sight, I squealed with excitement and hugged Becca. “Thank you, thank you, thank you!”
She laughed as we swayed from side to side.
“You deserve this,” she said, breaking off the embrace. “It’s going to be such an amazing platform for you to grow and start gaining recognition with your name.”
“I know, I can’t thank you enough.” But with all these famous photographers coming in and out of the office all day, I couldn’t stop thinking, why me? I was nothing but the invisible assistant who rotated from studio to studio. And I wanted to ask Becca, but I didn’t know how, so I kept it simple. “Why me?”
“You want the raw, honest truth?” Becca crossed her arms at her chest, leaning her round hips against the conference table. I nodded. “Most photographers you see roaming around here with their fancy cameras won’t remove their lens cover for less than ten grand.”
“So they chose me because I’m the only one willing to fit their budget?” If that were the case, I would still consider myself lucky. This job was a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity, and my ego wasn’t strong enough to disagree.
“Ah-ah-ah.” Becca raised a finger, stopping my self-deprecating train of thought. “I wouldn’t have suggested you if I didn’t trust you could deliver. Your portraits are stunning, Billie. And the second part of this raw, honest truth is they genuinely loved your work and feel lucky to have found someone who’s not only young and talented, but someone who doesn’t have an overinflated ego. They want someone who can grow with the magazine.”
“I can’t wait to get started.” I intertwined my fingers into a fist and rested it under my chin. “I’m so excited.”
“You’re going to do great.”
Dinner with my dad was going surprisingly great. This was the first time he and William had seen each other since that awful Christmas Eve dinner. I’d seen my dad one-on-one several times over the summer before agreeing to meet the three of us. It felt terrible to admit, but I wanted to make sure he was genuine and that I’d eased back into our relationship before involving William. He had disrespected me, William, and our relationship, and I couldn’t allow that to happen again.
But it didn’t. The first thing my dad did after we wished him happy birthday and gave him his gift was apologize to William. After that, he behaved like the father I knew he could be. He asked William multiple questions about the Haldor Stormbreaker movies and the project he’d just returned from filming in Prague. My dad was impressed with William’s involvement as a producer in both films and congratulated him for it. He seemed proud and his words felt genuine.
Then, I shared the news about my new job as a photographer for Empire Magazine, and my dad was delighted. I’d already told William about it on our way to dinner because I couldn’t help myself.
My dad ordered champagne, and we made a toast to celebrate his birthday and our achievements.
As I smiled and swallowed the crisp, velvety champagne, a part of me felt like it was all too good to be true. My rekindled relationship with my dad. The new job. Having William in my life despite the challenges we’d been facing from the start.
I hadn’t been this fulfilled in so damn long. And in every area of my life. My heart told me it was okay to trust the universe, but my stomach warned me this newfound peace came with an expiration date. It whispered that I was too na?ve and should know better than to ignore the calm before the storm.
But I squeezed William’s hand, using it to ground myself and as a reminder that it was all real.
When you’ve suffered the loss of someone dear to you, it becomes hard to embrace the good things in your life and to feel like you deserve them. It feels unfair that you got to live while they didn’t. And then, one day, you finally make peace with your destiny. You allow yourself to take what you want and work your ass off to preserve it. You grab it all. You hold on to it. Cherish it. Treasure it. But a new dilemma arises when you realize you now have everything to lose.
And the thought of it sent a cold shudder down my spine.