Chapter Twenty-One Skye #3
"Sorry, what?" Now, I'm the one that's confused.
"You most probably saw me on TMZ, but I am not a groupie. I did not have sexual relations with that man," she says.
Her friend collapses in laughter. "You're too funny, Eastern.”
I stare at them both, trying not to roll my eyes.
Idiots.
"I'm not quite sure what you're talking about, I don't read TMZ and I've never heard of Tennessee River.
But I am a photographer, and if you girls want a cute shot," I hold up the small little camera in my hand, "I can take one for you, and I have little Polaroids so I can give it to you to keep as a keepsake. "
"Oh, I see," Eastern says. "You want to take a photo of us, what, for the New York Times?"
"No," I say, shaking my head. "I don't work for the New York Times, and I very much doubt they would want to publish my Polaroid pictures in their paper."
"So the New York Post? Tacky."
"No. I'm not sure if you understood what I said. I am an unofficial official photographer of the night, meaning that—"
"I don't really understand what this girl is saying, do you?" the blonde asks her friend.
The friend shakes her head.
"I can take a selfie for you."
"No, we don't want you in our selfie; we don't know you. Oh my gosh. I can't stand these claim-to-fame whores."
"What?" Are these girls really this dense?
"You recognized me, and now you want a photo with me so you can post on your socials that you know me. But you don't know me just because you saw me in the street. I don't know you, and I don't want to be on your Instagram account. How many followers do you even have, ten?"
"No, I actually have like a hundred and five followers on Instagram."
"Oh, a hundred and five, so many." The girls laugh. "Be gone."
"What did you just say to me?"
"I said be gone, paparazzi."
I shrug and head back over to Elisabetta, who's standing next to the wall, typing something on her phone.
"Hey, how did it go? How much did they pay you?"
"I didn't even get to take a photo," I say, shaking my head.
"What? What do you mean?"
"I went to offer my services, and they thought I was the paparazzi."
"The paparazzi, what? Who is it? Don't tell me that's Gigi Hadid or something."
"Girl, I've never seen those two nobodies before in my life," I say, laughing. "One of them was going on about how she slept with Tennessee River. Have you ever heard of anyone called Tennessee River?"
"Never before in my life," she says. "Are you sure they weren't joking?"
"I am one hundred percent positive they weren't joking. I am still kind of confused as to just what went on." I burst out laughing. "Am I living in an alternate reality here? What the fuck just happened?"
"I don't know, but don't let them discourage you, girl. I'm sure there are plenty of people that want you to take random-ass Polaroid photos of them and sell them for twenty dollars each," she says sarcastically.
"Elisabetta."
"What?" she says, holding up her hand. "I did tell you I didn't think it was the best idea in the world."
"What are you saying?"
"I don't think I'm being unclear, Skye. Like I said, I don't think it's the best idea in the world. I don't think you're going to make much money from this.
"You know what? I think you're right. I don't think it's the best money-making idea that I've ever had."
"Me either," she says.
"Then why did you buy me this camera and all this film?"
"Well, we can take selfies of ourselves," she says, grinning. "Plus, I wanted to be supportive."
"You bought me a camera and film even though you didn't believe in the idea?"
"I believe in you," she says, smiling. "I think you can do anything you set your mind to."
"Why are you so sweet and nice to me, and why do you encourage me on stupidness?"
"Because that's what best friends do. I'm not going to let you walk across a train track when a train is coming because I don't want you to die, but I will let you have different money-making ideas and run with them until you realize they're not the best."
"Thank you. I appreciate it."
"That's kind of why I'm letting you have your fun with you know who."
"I told you, we're not talking about him tonight."
"I know, but I'm just saying. Do I think it's the best idea that you've ever had?
Do I think there's potential for your heart to be broken?
Maybe." She links her arm through mine. "But that's life.
We miss one hundred percent of the chances we don't take.
Maybe it's also going to be amazing. Maybe he's going to be the one that makes you rethink your entire being. "
"I don't know that I want someone to make me rethink my entire being," I say to her. "I'm pretty set on what I want from life."
"I know, she says. "You want to travel, you want a love of your life, and you want to write a book about your epic love story."
"Yep, those are the goals. I'm not that close to them, but…"
"But you're closer than you were last week, right?"
I nod. "Yeah. Shall we go in and dance?"
"Let's do it," she says. "And you know what?"
"What?"
"I'm going to give youa hundred dollars."
"What? Why are you giving me a hundred dollars?"
"Because I would like at least five amazing photographs of myself tonight."
"What? You can't pay me to—"
"That's how much you charge per photo, right, twenty dollars?"
"Yeah, but—"
"So, five amazing photos is one hundred dollars."
"You bought the camera and the film. I am not—"
"I'm your best friend, and my dad is loaded. Please let me support you, even if I'm your only customer of the night."
I reach out, give her a big hug, and kiss her on the side of the face.
"You're the best friend I could have ever asked for that, you know that, right?"
"I learned from the best," she says, pinching me on the ass. "Now, come on, let's get inside, dance, and get our flirt on."
"Okay," I say, giggling. "Let's do it."