The Street Photographer

Chapter 15

"Can I ask you something?"

Kent looked up from where his head rested on my lap. We'd barely started the movie before he'd assumed his post, grabbing my hand to keep my arm curled over his shoulder. Rather than fighting him over it and missing the movie, I just let him be and called it good. When the movie finished, he rolled onto his back and dozed off. Now that he was awake, it felt like a good moment to start a conversation.

"Ask me anything," he murmured, trailing his fingers up my arm where it rested on his chest. "I have nothing to hide from you."

He wouldn't say that if he knew who he was talking to. I combed my fingers through his hair for a minute, stewing over how to wade into this topic.

"Why do you hate the paparazzi so much? I know they can be persistent, invasive, and annoying, but... your response seems a lot more intense than most celebrities... a lot more personal. Did something happen? Martin said something about scheming women..."

His eyes darkened, and he looked past me to focus on the ceiling. His jaw hardened. I bit my tongue to hold back any other questions. Had I asked the one question I shouldn't have?

After a minute, he drew a deep breath and grabbed my hand. He interlaced our fingers and looked at me again.

"It's fair that you know. And yes, it's personal. Not to me directly, but it's close enough."

I swallowed hard and held onto his hand. Whatever story he had to share, it wasn't something he told to many others. My stomach knotted a little as he took a breath to begin.

"There used to be three of us: me, Jared, and Luke. Three guys in three different professions: acting, modelling, and fashion design. We met at an exclusive, no-media-allowed getaway. We were very different but shared one thing in common: a desire to keep our private lives out of the public eyes. We bonded over that weekend... even got matching tattoos for our secret brotherhood."

I cocked my head a little. "You have a tattoo?"

The corner of his mouth twitched upward. Without releasing my hand, he tapped the left side of his chest.

"Secret place... the cameras will never catch it, even with an unbuttoned shirt on."

I nodded once. It made sense.

"We would talk to each other about the paparazzi, hide out at each other's houses, escape for long weekends together," he continued, staring at the ceiling. "Some days, we would hire body doubles just to get the paparazzi out of the way. Luke seemed to struggle the most. Even though he was used to being around flashing cameras, he hated when they were pointed at him."

His hold on my hand tightened, like he was bracing himself for something extremely unpleasant. He swallowed several times before closing his eyes and continuing,

"Luke was working on his next show with another designer. He normally didn't co-design, but this woman was fresh on the scene with several awards backing her. Luke's label thought the collaboration would be a gold mine. He was feeling a bit stale in his latest designs, so he was okay with including fresh inspiration."

My stomach twisted, my thoughts already guessing where he was going.

"Did she steal his designs?"

Kent shook his head and opened his eyes. "That would have been the easiest scenario. Luke would have let her take full credit and not made a fuss about it. It started to become obvious that she was far more interested in him than designing with him. He tried to keep things professional between them, but she started showing up at his usual coffee shop and restaurant... Then she'd just happen to be going to a 'meeting' wherever he was going. He put her off as gently as he could, but that only made her more insistent.

"She showed up at his house one night, threw herself at him, and tried to go inside. She didn't succeed, but she had a photographer capture the whole thing. The way she positioned herself... it looked like Luke was pulling her inside, not shoving her out. Two days later, she went to the media and said that he had tried forcing himself on her... that he'd been coming onto her at work while she was trying to design."

I closed my eyes and sucked in a breath. I vaguely remembered hearing about a fashion designer scandal. I'd paid little attention to it at the time, but now it was clicking in my mind.

"Luke knew that no one would care about his side of the story. The paparazzi started following him as soon as he stepped out of his front door. If he was anywhere near a woman, he got plastered as a womanizer. No matter what he did, he was always in the wrong."

Of course he was. Once the mainstream tabloids decided someone was in the wrong, they would continuously paint the person that way.

"Things like that usually blow over, don't they?" I asked. "Another scandal pops up sooner or later."

Kent shook his head. "Not soon enough. Even though Luke's colleagues backed him, his label still fired him to avoid the collateral lash back. The tabloids were still following him three months later, even seeking him out during his exclusive vacation. His life—privately and professionally—had been destroyed."

I swallowed hard. In the tabloid world, a "destroyed life" only ended one way.

"What happened to him?" I whispered.

He rubbed his thumb across the top of my hand for a minute. When he met my gaze, his eyes shimmered like a lake under full sunshine.

"He committed suicide... overdosed on some drugs in the middle of the night. Jared and I found him in the morning. He'd written us a long note about everything, detailing the effects of the tabloid's persistent hounding. He had the security footage from the night that woman ruined his life. He even had a write-up for the media, if we could get it published. In the end, he just couldn't see past the harassment."

"I'm sorry, Kent." I didn't know what else to say to him. He'd lost a best friend and had been one of the ones who found him. Such a horror would make anyone hate the media which had caused it.

"Now you know why I work so hard to keep the media at arm's length," he sighed. "I'd like to think that I wouldn't be driven to suicide, but I'd also thought Luke was made of stronger stuff. His suicide made me see more clearly that no one is invincible."

Something tickled my cheek. I swiped at it, and then stared at the drop of water on my finger. Was I crying?

Kent reached up and brushed my other cheek. "It's okay to be sad. I'm glad you understand me better on this issue. I feel better having told you."

"I'm glad you told me," I agreed. "It gives me a new perspective on a lot of things."

"...your own photography?" he mused.

...in more ways than you can know.

"Let's just say I have a lot to think about," I answered.

He snuggled closer and hugged my arm to his chest. "Think about it later. Right now I just want to hold you."

"Okay."

I combed my fingers through his hair until he fell asleep. Once his breathing became even, I tipped my head back against the couch and stared at the ceiling.

No one is invincible. Truer words have never been spoken.