“Sorry about that.” The woman hung up the phone and walked over to where I stood.
“No problem. I didn’t have an appointment or anything. I was just on my way to a meeting down the block, and the photos hanging in your window caught my eye. Are you the photographer?”
The woman reminded me of my mom. She was tiny, with long, flowing, dirty blonde hair and a Stevie Nicks vibe. “Yes. They’re all mine. This is my portrait studio. I’m sort of a one-woman show—answer the phones, take the photos, print them, and frame them. I can’t help myself. I’m a control freak.”
“Well, that seems to work for you. They’re incredible.”
She smiled warmly. “Thank you. Were you looking for a particular type of shoot? Is it for yourself? Or a family portrait of some kind?”
“I’d like to schedule a shoot for someone…as a gift. My girlfriend…something like this, maybe.” I pointed to the oversized, framed photo of a very pregnant woman looking down at her exposed belly. She had one hand covering her breasts and the other caressing her stomach. It was beautiful—the quality and softness of the shot gave it an almost angelic feel. “She’s been a little down lately, and I think she’s getting self-conscious about her body. I want her to see herself like I see her.”
“Oh, that’s wonderful. What a nice surprise. Many women don’t feel so beautiful about their bodies when they’re pregnant. You giving her something like this tells her that you’re proud of her body and she should be, too.”
“That’s what I’m hoping. She’s gorgeous pregnant.”
“Do you have an idea of when you want to bring her in? Let me get my calendar, and I can show you some packages. I’ll be right back.”
My eyes moved to the framed portrait next to the one of the pregnant woman. The two photos on the wall were the same ones that hung in the window and caught my attention from the street. It
was the combination that stopped me in my tracks on the way to my meeting. Next to the pregnant woman was a large portrait of a baby. She was probably only a few months old and sound asleep with her little ass sticking straight in the air while she lay on a white, furry blanket. Her knees were tucked under her tiny body, and her chubby cheeks rested atop her hands as she slept. But the thing that stopped me was the wings. The sleeping angel had a set of white, feathery wings on her back.
She truly looked like an angel.
“I’m Jenny, by the way. I probably should have opened with that before.”
I extended my hand. “Rush. Nice to meet you, Jenny.”
When she opened her calendar, every page had scribble all over it. She was pretty damn booked up.
“Looks like you’re busy.”
“Don’t worry. I’ll fit you in whenever you want it. Any man who thinks his pregnant partner looks good enough to want to buy her a photoshoot takes priority in my book.”
She didn’t know the half of it. Looks good enough. I wanted to devour Gia twenty-four seven. And you could bet I’d be getting a few extra copies of the shots for myself. Jenny might not think I was so sweet if I told her I wanted duplicates for future spank bank material.
“Thank you. I appreciate that.”
“So, all of my packages come with a one-hour photo session. A few days after the shoot, I send you a link to the photos, and you pick which photos you want to have printed. I have packages that range from two photo selections up to eight.”
I scratched at the scruff on my chin and looked at the portraits again. “Do you have any packages that include two shoots? I’m thinking I’d like to buy one for my girlfriend now and one for the baby when he’s born.”
“I do. I have a package that includes two sessions with ten photo selections, and you can pick your ten shots from a combination of both shoots.”
“I’ll take that one.”
Jenny smiled. “Your girlfriend is a lucky girl.”
“Trust me. I’m the lucky one.”
I actually fucking whistled walking from the photography studio to my meeting, even though I was about to be in the company of my father and brother. Jenny had given me a little bag with a gift certificate inside and a tiny, golden angel trinket. It couldn’t have been more perfect. I hoped Gia liked the present as much as I knew I would.
My whistle cut mid-stream when my brother walked into the elevator. We had a meeting up on the thirty-third floor with our banker and some people about a potential investment. Elliott flashed a phony smile and turned to give me his back as the car doors slid closed. “I have a good tailor who
can make you a nice suit.” He buttoned his overpriced suit jacket as he spoke. “If you’d like, I can send you his number.”
Today I’d worn a dress shirt and slacks, in deference to Robert Harmon, the banker with whom we were meeting. He was a good friend of our grandfather’s and deserved the respect of putting on something decent. My asshole brother, on the other hand, deserved nothing.
“Unlike you, I don’t have to drop a load of cash to like myself when I look in the mirror. A personality and tact is a fuck of a lot cheaper than four grand for a suit.”
Elliott snickered. “I’d love to spend this quality time trading jabs with my bastard brother, but we actually have business we should discuss before we arrive upstairs.” I watched him wipe some lint off the front of his jacket in the reflection of the shiny metal doors before continuing. “This isn’t just the annual meeting with Robert. We need him to increase our business line of credit for this investment.”
“For what?”
He sighed. “A hotel in Costa Rica.”
My forehead wrinkled. “A what?”
“There’s a property that’s come available for sale in Costa Rica. It’s priced way below market value and it’s a great investment. Two of the owners who are selling it have come up to talk to us.
They’ll give you and Robert the dog and pony show.”
“Okay…so why do you need to involve me at all? You want to invest, invest.”
“We need an increase to our business line of credit to help purchase the property. Which means our little family corporation needs a resolution vote for the increase in our credit line.”
“Why do you need a line of credit business loan? Get a mortgage on the property like you would any other building.”
“It needs to be an all cash deal. No mortgage.”
“Why?”
“Because that’s what the seller wants. He’s already got another offer. But he’ll take ours for the same price. It’s a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity. Costa Rica is a growing tourist market.”
“What do you even know about running a hotel?”
“There’s staff. But I’ll spend a lot of time down there making sure things are taken care of properly.”
“Let me guess? Your wife will stay up here in New York. It’ll be like your own little vacation fuck paradise. No thanks.”
The doors slid open, and my brother turned to face me. “Listen to the presentation today before you make any hasty decision. You’ll see. It’s almost too good to be true.”
I shook my head and stepped off the elevator before my brother, stopping to look back at him.
“You know what they say about things that seem too good to be true? They probably are.”
Something didn’t add up. Two of the owners made an hour-and-a-half presentation, yet it seemed more like a timeshare sales pitch for a vacation resort than any business proposal. The hotel was nice. There was no denying that. But I couldn’t grasp two important things: why they would sell it if it were such a profitable business, and why the purchase couldn’t have a mortgage.
“The place is beautiful. But I have a couple of questions.”
My father and brother made a face.
“Shoot,” said the owner, who’d done most of the talking. “We’re here to answer whatever questions you have.”