JACKS

"You didn't," Dré says with a look of disbelief.

"Oh, I did."

"You invited your little engaged girlfriend on tour? You're cracked."

"She's a good photographer and she wants to get into tour photography. I would've offered regardless."

Dré sighs and leans onto the kitchen counter, resting his head in his hands.

"I know you like to be the guy who gives everybody their shot," he says with a sigh, "but this girl? You're too far into this, man—you're gonna get yourself hurt. How did you even end up seeing her again?"

"I may have booked a photoshoot with her." I give him my best charming smile, mostly to curb the scolding I'm about to receive.

"A photoshoot? What photoshoot? When?"

"A boudoir photoshoot. Yesterday."

"The fuck?" He rests his palms on the counter and looks at me with wide eyes. "What is a boob-oir photoshoot?"

"Boud-oir. It's like, sexy photos."

"You had the engaged girl..."

"Skye."

"You had Skye—the engaged girl—take sexy photos of you? I take it that's the type of photography she does?"

"Yeah, she's great at it too. It was a little awkward, but fun."

Dré bursts into laughter and runs his hands over the bit of stubble covering his once-shaved head.

"I'll tell you what, man, you're always entertaining. Only you would fall for an engaged woman one week and have her taking naked photos of you the next. Wait—we are talking naked, right?"

"In my underwear."

He continues to laugh and shake his head.

"What was that like?"

"It was interesting. There were a couple points where I may have had to pose, um... creatively."

"How so?"

"Do I really have to say it?"

"Say what?"

"She's hot and she's telling me to take off my clothes and basically straddling me at one point, okay? I was trying to avoid taking the shoot from PG-13 to R rated."

"Ha!" He lets out an outburst of laughter and I shoot him a glare. "You had to hide your wood from this girl in the middle of a photoshoot in your underwear? That's some hilarious shit."

"Need I bring up the pool incident?"

"Hey, hey, that's uncalled for."

"I'm just saying."

"In my defense, Maria was in a bikini and I did not expect Terrell to rope me into a chicken fight."

He walks over to the couch and sits down.

"So did she say yes?" he asks.

"I told her to take some time to think about it."

"No chance in hell the fiancé is gonna let her go on tour with a bunch of rowdy, half-naked musicians."

"She's her own person."

"Come on, would you let her go on tour with you?"

"If that's what she wanted, yeah."

"Well you're an idiot. But hey, maybe he's an idiot too and he'll actually let his girlfriend go away for several months with a world-famous popstar and panty-dropper."

Truth be told, getting her to come on tour will be the easy part. The hard part is figuring out how to win her over once she does—if she does.

"I wish it were as simple as you make it sound."

"Hey," he says in a serious tone, looking me in the eyes and placing a hand on my shoulder. "I know I'm giving you a hard time about this, but I can tell you really like this girl. If anyone can win her over, you can. If you want my support, I'm with you. Want me to break this guy's kneecaps? Just give me the word."

He chuckles and I can't help but laugh too.

"It's just... Skye is really something. I felt that spark from the moment I saw her and, you know, what if she is the one? What if my gut's right and she's really meant to be with me? I can't just give up because she met some other guy first, can I?"

"Well, I've never seen you not get something you wanted. I doubt this girl will be the exception."

SKYE

"Hey, it's me!" I announce as I open the door to Greg's apartment and step inside.

"Hey!" he replies from the living room.

I walk in and set my things down on the side table, then sit beside him on the couch.

"How was your day?"

"It was fine," he says, looking up from the TV and giving me a quick kiss. "Not particularly eventful. What about you, didn't you photograph some sort of celebrity guy today or something?"

"Yeah, Jackson Ford. Remember, the guy that we met at the coffee shop? The musician?"

"Oh yeah. What does he play again?"

"I mean, he's mostly a singer, but I think he plays piano too. Maybe others, not sure. I haven't really followed his music that much."

"Hmm. How'd it go?"

"It was good. I got a lot of great shots and he was happy to let me use them in my portfolio."

"Cool. Good for you."

"Actually... you know how I've talked about wanting to be a concert photographer?"

"Er..." he grunts, sitting up a bit more and turning his body toward me. "You really want to do that? Wouldn't that be a nightmare? It's so much travel and you're around all these wild musicians doing drugs and drinking all the time."

"Not necessarily. It depends on the artists. But yeah, it's something I just kind of assumed I wasn't going to be able to do. But now... well, Jackson offered my a spot on his tour team."

His eyebrows raise and he rubs his chin in his hand.

"Really? What... what did you say?"

"I told him I'd think it over. I figured I'd talk to you about it."

"It's certainly not going to earn any points with my parents. I'm already unsure how they'll react about your current job."

Greg's parents are wealthy, traditional, and ultra-conservative. We've been together for over a year, engaged for a couple months, and he still hasn't told them anything about me. He's worried that my photography will be too risqué for them and that they'll judge me for being adopted. My adoptive parents are amazing people, but I don't know much about my biological parents beyond the fact that Ollie and I got taken away from them when we were four years old.

"I understand that but..." I say with a sigh. "If they're not going to like me for who I am, that's not something I can change."

"No, of course," he says. "They'll probably be fine, it's just delicate. I don't want anyone to get hurt."

"What do you think about it? I'd have to be away for several months. I'll have a couple small breaks, but we'll be apart for a while."

"That's fine." He says it in a nonchalant way that makes my heart sting just a little.

I guess I expected him to be a bit sad about it, but apparently he's not.

"I think I want to do it, but it's going to be a lot of travel and stress and sleeping on buses. Late nights, loud music... I guess I should invest in some earplugs."

"Why did this guy decide to hire you anyway? Seems kind of out of the blue."

"I... I don't really know. I just told him I wanted to shoot concerts and he said I could be his photographer."

His mouth twists to the side and his brow furrows.

"I'm starting to get the impression this guy has a crush on you, Skye. I'm not trying to be mean here, but... do you think he's offering you this job because he wants to get in your pants?"

Jackson Ford having a crush on me? Please...

He knows I'm engaged and besides, the guy dates supermodels, not normal humans.

Sure, he booked a photoshoot with me... and he always calls me Buttercup... but, that doesn't mean anything.

Right?

Does it mean something?

"No, I mean... maybe, I dunno." I knead my hands together. "But so what if he has a crush on me, it's a great opportunity. I'm not obligated to sleep with him. If he wants to give me the job because he has a crush on me, then great—I get the opportunity of a lifetime, he gets a great photographer. It's a win-win. It's not like I have a crush on him too."

Right? Right.

"Okay, well uh," he mumbles, standing and walking over to the dining table. "I guess I don't really have an opinion. I know you're gonna do what you want, so just let me know what you decide."

I'm going to ignore the slight air of passive-aggression I'm picking up on.

"Yeah I'll... let you know I guess."

"Anyway, I ordered takeout. Should be here in 15 minutes, which will give us plenty of time to eat."

"Time before what?" I ask.

"Well the guys are going out tonight."

Greg went to UCLA, so a lot of his college friends live nearby. They're in this state of perpetual-frat-bro-ness, constantly going out to clubs and drinking til they can't stand. I don't understand how they all have the stamina to go out every night and still work in the morning.

"It's Wednesday," I say.

"Yeah, it's two-for-one drinks at Blaze til 10pm."

"I thought you all went out last night?"

"We did, we're going out again."

I sigh and lean my elbows on my knees.

"I was kind of hoping for a chill night in tonight. You guys go out every week. Can't you skip it tonight?"

He walks back over to the couch and sighs before sitting beside me.

"I guess I could, but it would be fun. It's nice when you come out with us."

"I just joined you Friday and Saturday."

"Yeah, I guess. I mean...sure, we can stay in," he says with a nod. He wraps an arm around my shoulders and pulls me into his chest.

"I feel like you're gonna be disappointed if we don't go."

"No, if you want to stay in tonight, we can. I just have to tell Steve we aren't coming after all."

I still get the impression that he's not happy, but I'll let it go.

After a few minutes of chatting about our days, we're interrupted by a knock at the door.

"Greg! It's me!" a man shouts from the other side of the door. Greg gets up to open it.

"Steve says you're not coming out tonight," Chase says as he steps inside. "What gives?"

"Skye wanted to stay in tonight."

Okay, so we're throwing me under the bus then.

"Awww," Chase teases. "You're already turning into a boring married guy and you're not even married yet. Come on, Skye, come out with us! Have some fun!"

Greg gives me a pouty look.

Uggh.

"Sorry Chase, I'm really tired. I've had a busy week so far."

"Okay, well she's tired, but you can come G. How bout it?"

"I told Skye we'd hang out tonight," he says, looking at me as though he's hoping I'll let him off the hook.

We've hardly seen each other all week. It's not like I'm chaining him to the floor.

"You can go if you want to," I say.

He scrunches his lips to the side as if he's thinking it over.

What's there to think over? Much needed time with your girlfriend or your eighth night out in a row?

He still seems to be mulling it over.

He wouldn't actually go without me, right?

* * * * *

I lay down on my bed and sigh as my head hits the pillows. The phone rings for a few seconds before I hear a click.

"Hey there Sunshine!" Ollie answers.

"I told you not to call me that!" I scold.

"Aww, come on, it's cute!"

"If you don't want me calling you by your middle name, don't use mine."

"Okay, okay! Truce!" He huffs. "So why you calling? I thought you had plans with Gregory tonight."

"Uggh," I groan. "Long story, but he's going out with his friends."

"For real? For the world's most boring dude, he certainly spends a lot of time out partying."

"His buddy came over and I felt guilty for saying I didn't want to go out and well... here we are."

"Dude, that's hella lame, I'm sorry. So I'm your second choice for entertainment?"

"No, actually I wanted to call you earlier I just haven't had the chance."

"Oh that's right! Your photoshoot with Jackson was today! How was it?"

"It was great, actually. I got some really good stuff. I'm excited to start editing."

"You're a bad sister if you don't share those photos with me, you know that right?"

"Well he actually signed a model release, so maybe you can see them in my portfolio when they're ready."

"Sweet! That's good, right? For your business and all?"

"Yeah, actually... that's the reason I called. He actually offered me a position."

"On his staff?"

"Yeah... Wait, no! No! Jesus Christ, Ollie!"

"Sorry, sorry," he says with a laugh. "Couldn't help myself."

"He said I could be his concert photographer and go on tour with him."

There's nothing but white noise on the line.

"Hello?" I ask. "Ollie?"

"Are you kidding me?" he screeches. "Jackson Ford invited you on tour with him?"

"Yeah! Crazy, right?"

"I'm so stoked for you. That's epic! That's what you've always wanted, isn't it?"

"I mean, yeah basically."

"Oh my god, we have to celebrate. You're gonna do it, right?"

"I think so. Greg didn't seem to care about the travel."

"Greg doesn't care about anything."

"Ollie, be nice!"

"That was me being nice," he mumbles.

"Aaanyway, if I do this, I don't have long to prepare and I'd need you to watch my apartment."

"Done. Now let's move on to the more important questions."

"Like what?"

"How big of a staff are we talking about here?"

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