Nine

Chapter 10. Point and Shoot

Three weeks ago, we officially became a couple, and to my surprise, the days have just gotten better. We still argue, but what couple doesn’t? We’re growing and learning and we’re doing this as a unit. And with all of the shit we’ve been through, it isn’t easy, but we’ve managed to make this thing work between us. I didn’t think it was possible, but here we are in love and still arguing of course. Some things never change.

“It’s easy. You just point and shoot,” he says.

“Easy for you. You know what you’re doing.”

“With practice it gets better. Trust me.”

“Not when my targets keep moving.” I narrow my eyes at him.

I groan and look down at the heavy object in my hand.

“You told me that you want a new career. I’m giving it to you. I’ll teach you everything I know.”

“I don’t think this thing is safe in my hands. I could drop it, and then boom.”

Trig works his way behind me. He starts pointing out things, and using terms that I have no idea about. I feel frustrated, tired, and hungry. Not to mention the weather today is hot.

“I can’t do this,” I say, as I shove the object back into his hands.

“Do you want me to point and shoot? It’s not hard.”

“I would love to see you do that, since you’ve been barking at me for the last thirty minutes about what not to do.”

“Stay still then,” he says.

“Now you want to shoot me? You’re crazy, you know that?”

“Who wouldn’t want to shoot you?”

“Maybe I don’t want to be shot.” I raise my eyebrows.

“I’m shooting you. I don’t care what you say.”

At that very moment, I realize how crazy the conversation sounds, especially when it involves Trig, a prior hitman.

“Just stand still and let me take your picture,” Trig commands.

“Fine,” I grumble.

He starts clicking away and at first, I’m nervous, but after about fifteen pictures later, I’m twirling and moving around to different poses. I don’t even care that a few people have stopped to watch us. He takes several more and then he motions me over.

“Look at this one,” he says.

I look down and smile. It’s beautiful, and the way the light falls behind me is perfect.

“See how the contrast is different in this picture than in this one.”

I nod. He hands me the camera and then waves his arm just once.

“I refuse to let you give up. The world is yours for the taking. Start clicking, girl.”

Two weeks ago Trig finally opened up and told me what he did for a living prior to being The Savior’s hitman. He was a photographer. People would hire him for big events such as weddings, anniversaries, and even birthdays. I didn’t believe him at first. I laughed. He could have told me he was a mechanic or a security guard or even a stripper and I would have nodded, but not a photographer. He just doesn’t fit the mold. He’s a little rough around the edges, and looks more like a professional fighter than a cameraman looks, but maybe that’s because I’ve seen him kill people. He told me he was a gym rat, and loved to work out, and that sometimes he took boxing classes, but that was it. Photography was his thing. Me, personally, I don’t even know anyone that works in that field, but I imagine the artsy geek chic guy if anybody, and Trig is the guy that most mothers warn their good little girls about. But apparently, looks are deceiving, because he was very serious when he told me. Eventually I stopped laughing and forced myself to accept it. Not that it’s a bad thing; it’s just not what I expected. After we talked a little more, he said he had done a few boudoir photo shoots in the past and that something like that might be right up my alley. Boudoir is basically just shooting suggestive pictures of women. Count me in, I thought. I didn’t realize that when I jumped at the idea, I’d have to learn how to use this big ass camera with all of its millions of functions.

“We could open up our own company here. We’ll call it Krackle Photos.”

I look at him and start laughing.

“You have no idea how much I hate that name. Of all the last names, we get Krackle. It reminds me of a plumber’s ass crack.”

“Whatever then. It can be any name. Besides, Krackle has a legit sound to it.”

I raise my eyebrows at him.

“I guess we could, once I know what the hell I’m doing.”

“A few months from now you’ll be a pro,” Trig says. “We just need to build up some clients in the meantime.”

I perk up at the word clients.

“That I can do.”

Trig looks concerned.

“What? That’s not what I meant. I’m just good at pulling in business.”

“This is a whole new ball game, Nine. The approach is different.”

“It’s Angelina. I think we should start using our new names already.”

Trig smiles.

“Excuse me, Angelina,” he corrects himself.

I put the camera to my chest and tap my nails against it. Trig loves photography, and for me, I can learn to love it. I’ve started a business before, I can do it again, but this time it will be something I can brag about. I won’t have to hide what I do, and the best part is that my co-partner is hot as fuck.

“Krackle Photos Incorporated.” I pause. “Let’s do it,” I say.

“Yes. My little eagle has taken her flight.”

“Sure, make jokes. Where did you hear that eagle story from anyway?

Motivationalspeakers.com,” I sarcastically ask.

“How did you know?” He wags his eyebrows once. “No. I saw it on YouTube. It was hard-hitting and it stuck in my head. Somebody made it up to inspire others.”

“Wait. It’s not real?”

Trig looks at my face, and then he starts cracking up.

“I did mention to you prior that it was just a myth.”

“I didn’t hear the myth part. Let me remind you that I wasn’t all there that night.”

I tap my finger to my temple.

“That’s your fault. No one told you to go and get all coked up.”

My mouth falls open.

“You’re such an asshole. Stop bringing up old shit.”

Trig grabs my waist and pulls me into him.

“It’s a great story. It worked. Why are you mad?”

“I’m not. I just felt really bad for that poor bird.”

Trig laughs hard. He’s cracking up so hard my body is vibrating in his grasp.

“Stop laughing at me. You make me feel stupid.”

He presses his lips together in a smile. He can hardly contain himself.

“I hate you,” I say with a smirk.

“Me? Look at this face. You could never hate this.”

“Cocky son of a bitch, aren’t you,” I joke.

“You like that side. I know you do.”

“In bedroom play, yes. Outside in real life, no.”

“Yeah, okay. I’ll start by holding back at dinner tonight then.”

Dinnertime has become an extremely fun event. He tells me all the nasty and vulgar things he wants to do to me while we eat, and then we time how long it takes me to get turned on. We beat record time last night at five minutes. It’s a new game we both enjoy.

“Wait! I didn’t say you needed to pull back. I was just pointing out the obvious.”

He nods proudly.

“See? You like that shit.”

“I might,” I tease.

Trig leans down and kisses me.

“I love to see you smile,” he says. “You’ve been doing a lot of that lately.”

“You should blame it on this stupid little thing called happiness. Who knew, right?”

“I think you just implied that I make you happy, and if so that means you also paid me a compliment.”

I roll my eyes.

“Stop. I give you compliments all the time.”

Trig laughs.

“Like what?”

“Like…stuff,” I say, struggling to come up with one exact comment.

“See?” Trig points at me.

We both start laughing. He shakes his head at me. The sun starts to beat down harder, so we walk over and sit down in the grass underneath a shady tree. I set the camera down on my lap.

“You never told me what got you into photography.”

“I took a few classes in high school. I liked it. It didn’t really feel like hard work when I did it. It actually relaxed me. That’s basically it. Initially I started doing parties for friends and then neighbors, and after a while, everybody was hiring me for something. The events got bigger and the money increased and I just kept on doing it.”

“Sometimes I wonder what I would have become under different circumstances. Most young girls get their first job at a fast food place or a department store in a mall. I’d like to think I might have worked at the M.A.C. makeup store or inside Macy’s at the perfume counter.”

“Or maybe you’d be a sexy little librarian at a public library.”

I laugh. “Have you ever seen me read? I mean, really.”

“No. I don’t read either, but if the librarian looked like you, I’d be in there every day reading thick-ass books just to check you out.”

“Aw. The stalker type.”

“Hell yeah. I would stalk the hell out of you.”

I grin. He smiles briefly and then he looks around.

“Okay that’s enough chit chat. You won’t learn anything by sitting on your ass, so let’s go. I see at least twenty kids around. Over there some woman is walking her dog. Across the way, I see cars moving fast on the road. These are what I want you to shoot. If you can catch a fantastic picture while it’s in motion, the rest is a piece of cake to learn. Editing will always be a pain, but it’s the actual art that matters. It’s the timing. It’s the very second you capture an event on the camera and what emotion was happening behind it.”

We both stand up.

“What if I just take a picture of that kid eating an ice cream? There’s nothing really emotional about that,” I say.

“What are you talking about? Getting ice cream used to be like the highlight of my day as a child. It’s a memory, and a happy one at that. When that ice cream man came around my neighborhood, playing that stupid song through the intercom on his white beat up van, my brother and me would lose our minds. People remember these things.”

I shake my head.

“It’s not something I can relate to. We barely had food in the fridge when I was little. My parents smoked it all up. I never bought ice cream off of a van. Can’t say I know how it feels.”

“Well, let’s go pop your ice cream van cherry now. No one should go through life without the experience.”

“Any recommendations?” I smile.

“Mega Missile or a King Cone is pretty safe to try. If you’re feeling adventurous you could even get one of the Pop Ups.”

“Those all sound like vibrators.”

He turns and gives me an ugly look.

“What?”

“Stop being nasty. We’re talking about childhood memories.”

“Mine was pretty messed up, so I get a pass.”

He drags me over to a dingy white ice cream van and points to all the pictures on the side of it.

“Choose,” he says.

I let my eyes bounce around to all the different photos. There’s at least fifteen ice creams available, and I can’t decide. This is too much pressure. Kids are lining up behind me and shoving through to look at the pictures too. The man inside the van stares at me with irritation, and it just makes me stress out more.

“King Cone,” I finally say.

“Malt Cup,” Trig adds.

The man turns, opens up a freezer, and slowly pulls our picks out. I find myself wishing he would move a little faster. I can hear the groans from the children behind me, and if he doesn’t hurry up, they may just start a riot. Finally, he walks back over and hands us our ice cream with a spoon as well. Trig slides him some money and we make our way through the little hellions. I start unwrapping my cone.

“That was intense.”

“It’s just ice cream,” Trig says.

“It’s the hardest decision I’ve made all day. What are you talking about?”

Trig pops the lid off his Malt Cup, and digs in. I put the cone up to my mouth and take a big bite.

“Oh my god. You’re right. This is really good,” I mumble

Trig nods.

“Cherry popped, girl!”

“It actually wasn’t that bad. I might even describe my experience as a little fun.”

“Maybe later I’ll take you to Chuck E. Cheese’s and let you hug a giant mouse.”

“You’re hilarious,” I say with a thick amount of sarcasm.

He puckers up his lips to hold in his ice cream as he laughs. I elbow him in the side. We continue to walk down the street and the camera is swinging from my arm.

“You should probably hurry up and eat that,” he says.

“Why?”

“That camera isn’t going to take pictures by itself.”

I frown and then put the cone up to my mouth; I slowly lick at it while I make eye contact with Trig. My tongue is working small circles now, and he seems to be entertained.

“Are you teasing me?”

“I’m just eating my ice cream.” I shrug and take another slow lick, but this time I moan.

“Liar. You’re trying to seduce me with that tongue of yours, and it’s not working. If you think you’re going to get out of taking pictures and that we’re going to go back to the hotel and have dirty, nasty, sweaty sex then you’re wrong.” He pauses. “You’re going to go shoot pictures first, and then we’re going to go back to the hotel to have dirty, nasty, sweaty sex. Get your priorities in order.”

I grin.

“I’m not getting out of this today, am I?” I ask.

He shakes his head.

“I’m about to make you into one of the world’s best photographers. Don’t miss this train. Jump on it and ride it out with me. We got this, babe.”

I playfully squint my eyes at him.

“What is it about you that makes me do things out of my comfort zone?”

“I took you to buy ice cream. Things like that have a heavy impact on girls. You never had a chance.” He then gives me an evil laugh.

“The ice cream is good, but not that damn good.”

We both finish eating just as we stumble upon a skate park.

“Oh look. Bodies in motion.” He makes a funny face and points to the skaters. “Isn’t that crazy timing?”

I sigh, knit my eyebrows together, and then I pull the camera up from my arm

“Go on, my little angry squirrel. I want to see some bad-ass pictures, and we’re not leaving here until we get some.”

This is going to be the longest day of my life. Look at Trig standing there smiling like a fool.