Something More | Discontinued

[ 2 ] To What Do I Owe The Pain

© 2018 Shay Spencer. All rights reserved.

Something More

[ Chapter 2 ] To What Do I Owe The Pain

. . . . .

Hayden

.

The utter hilarity of the situation finally slapped me upside the head when the director called for an outfit change.

It took basically everything in me not to bust out laughing.

"We'll start back in five minutes, people!" He dashed off towards the double doors, the man jamming his hands into his deep France-y pants. His face screamed that he was dying for a cigarette, and honestly, who could blame the guy?

With the slam of the doors came an all new horror. The crew ran back and forth, scrubbing off makeup and slapping it back on at a horrifically fast pace. The sound of fabric ripping sent a shrill vibe into the air, one that I didn't think could get any worse.

Never in my wildest dreams would I have imagined I'd be working in Paris for some Vogue photo-shoot. The bright fusha was enough to make even the most feminine guy gag. The color would forever be fuzed to the back of my eyelids.

It had occurred to me that I'd hit rock bottom the second I saw the bright orange and teal jumpsuit three weeks ago. But I wasn't a quitter - not anymore, anyway.

I slung my camera over my shoulder, the strap looping under my arm uncomfortably as I strode out onto the balcony. With every step the language of French slowly faded into the background. It was exactly the reprieve I needed.

The warehouse type setting I'd left behind seemed to be replicated at every stop on our photo tour across the European countries. Our crew was holed up in some up-and-coming building just outside of Paris. The white brick had been tattered beyond recognition, and the first time we stepped foot in this place, every type of bug imaginable had been crawling across the floor.

There were even dust bunnies. I'd just thought that was something Elias made up to force me into cleaning my room.

Despite all this, it wasn't the worst job on the planet. The hours were good, the apartment was paid for, and I never turned down a free meal. The snails were a deal breaker at first, but once you pick up on a few rancid terms, you start to like the place. Though it seemed I was the only one that showered half the time, the view made up for the BO.

I squinted, barely making out the tip of the Eiffel Tower. Snow clouds were forming up ahead and had put quite the damper on the bright summers day shot that I had in mind. Over my last few weeks touring Europe, I had spaced the fact that the world's finest would be right in front of me. It wasn't until moments like this that I remembered why I'd wanted to take pictures in the first place.

My fingers ghosted against the on-button of my camera, the object coming to life in my hands. Within seconds, the snow dusted skyline was playing back in about a million snap-shots on the screen. Even moments of normalcy playing out below became slightly more interesting than anything happening inside. For now, I ignored the fashion project at hand.

Paris needed to be photographed.

With one final click the doors behind me flew open, startling me just enough for me to loose my grip on my camera. If I hadn't had the freaking thing strapped to me I'd be out a camera and more than three-thousand dollars worth of pictures.

"Mr. Pennington," he started. The director's assistant gave me an all-knowing glance when he sized up the scene playing out in front of him. "We spoke about this, have we not?"

Nodding, I flipped my camera off once more. "Last time, I swear."

"Good." He paused before handing me what looked to be a landline from the early 2000's. "You've got a call. Try and make it quick.

After tossing the phone at me, the up-tight little ass walked back inside, leaving me out on the balcony to take a call from God knows who.

"Penn," the voice urged, nearly eliciting a groan of fucking agony from me.

"Axel Reynolds," I said. "To what do I owe the pain."

"I think you mean pleasure," he corrected for me seductively. "Let us not forget that weekend in Costa Rica. I saw the way you were looking at me. You don't have to deny it, Penn."

"I think you've got me confused with one of your entourage. I always thought Eddy had a man-crush on you."

Axel chortled, and I do mean chortled, on his end of the line. "Let's skip the pleasantries. I'm calling with important information."

"Whatever could it be," I laughed. "You and Josie finally bang one-"

"No," he hissed. "Josie and I, are still, just friends. So you can shove it, and I'll forget you asked."

"You and Josie aside, I'll assume this is a business call?"

"Correct," Axel sighed. I could hear a pen clicking anxiously on his end, and Axel hadn't ever been one to get nervous. With little left to the imagination, I came to the assumption that the gorgeous Josie Hartman was by her best friend's side during this particular call. "Your brother just got engaged."

The news hit me like a ton of bricks. "You've got to be kidding me."

"Sadly no. Our boy popped the question last Friday. Been about a week, actually. He and Wren decided to get hitched over on your side of the pond."

I ran my fingers through my hair, feeling my own chest tighten. "They're getting married in Paris. In the middle of winter."

"And somehow, I don't know the specifics, but it seems you've been beat out for man of honor." I could practically hear the smirk on Axel's voice. The irony of this situation was only getting more stifling by the second. "Zane will be walking our good ole Scarlett Blaine down the isle."

Oddly enough, wasn't Zane and Scarlett that concerned me.

"When does everyone get here?"

Axel mumbled something before the sound of papers ruffling back and forth filled my ears. "Two weeks. Well, two and a half by Josie's count. Eddy and Zane are heading down to Massachusetts for the playoff game at the beginning of the week. I think Sarah's tagging along too."

"Why do I care about the playoff game?" I shot back, leaning back on the railing as I did.

"Because Jake is going to be there. Which means, you have to be there. You don't want he and Scarlett getting back together, so I thought I'd keep you up to date."

The one and only time Axel had done anything remotely virtuous in any way, and honestly, I could probably blame Josie for the call. If he didn't have her someone would have murdered him by now.

It'd probably be me, if I was being honest.

"Then I guess I'm catching a flight to the east coast."