Jason sat in his parking spot, emotions running rampant. He stared ahead, physically present, mentally gone. Sweat beaded at his temple, his body betraying the state of his mind.
Two Years Ago
The monitors beeped. Monotonous. Relentless. A sound he’d never forget. Machines mimicked the act of living while silence swallowed everything else. Her chest rose and fell, swift and mechanical. Vacant.
“Ava.”
His voice cracked. He tried again, softer this time. Nothing.
Just the soundtrack of the inevitable playing in the background of stillness. His heart bled. His mind crashed. His hands shook as he reached for her fingers, holding them gently. Warm to the touch. Cold in presence. The same hands that once offered him life, felt lifeless in his grasp.
He rubbed her head.
“Baby, they said you can hear me. Come back to me baby. I’m here. I’m waiting. We have to live this life together.”
Present Day
Jason’s head hung at the steering wheel. He was so lost in thought he didn’t realize he had company until a knock sounded against the window.
“Son, what’s the problem?” Mr.Campbell asked. Jason turned away, wiped his face, and opened the door.
As he stood, his father continued. “You’ve been out here gazing around for twenty minutes, I’ve been knocking for five. We’ve got a board meeting, let’s go.”
Jason stood, straightened his tie, shut the car door, and followed his father inside.
Kayla strutted into the office like she owned the floor. “Good morning people.” She announced. Hips arguing with the fabric of her skirt.
“Good Morning!” The office echoed back, every male head tracking her movement without shame.
“Good Morning Ms. Kennedy,” her intern assistant, Taylor said quickly. “You have a meeting in ten with the writers of Been There Done That.”
Kayla glanced down at her planner. “You have my smoothie?”
“Ma’am, they were closed this morning.”
Kayla lifted her head slowly. “Closed?” Her brow arched. “That’s your excuse?”
“Ma’am?” Taylor asked confused.
“If you can’t improvise something as basic as a smoothie,” Kayla replied coolly, “how do you expect to survive in this business?”
Taylor’s shoulders slumped. “I’m sorry.”
“Have my smoothie before the end of that meeting Taylor,” Kayla said already gathering her things.
“Yes ma’am,” Taylor responded as she exited quickly.
Kayla scoffed underneath her breath, “Damn imbecile,” as she made her way to the conference room.
Shea adjusted the light lamps, tightening the bolts with damp hands. The metal slipped beneath her fingers.
“You okay?” Xavièr asked catching the shift in her energy.
“Yeah, I’m fine.” She didn’t look up. “Let’s get to work shall we.”
“Yes,” he said Easily . “I was born ready.”
Shea exhaled. “Great, let’s start with some standing poses.” She tried to stay focused. Professional. But, his sculptured frame made concentration harder than she cared to admit.
“Grab your shirt,” she instructed lifting the camera. “Throw it over your shoulder, and give me passion with your face.”
“Yes ma’am.” Xavièr said.
He moved effortlessly, softening his facial expressions like he was selling something sacred. Something personal.
The shutter clicked.
Xavièr shifted his weight to his back leg, slightly bending his front leg, chin lifting just enough to change the angle.
The shutter clicked again.And again.
“Oh you’re a natural.” Shea admitted.
A faint smile tugged at his lips as the camera continued to capture him.
“Let me grab something, I’ll be right back.” Shea said already heading to the prop room.
She walked straight to the slate grey Posing Pole.
As she stepped back into the studio, Xavièr was already moving toward her.
“Let me get that,” he said, reaching for it. “You could’ve asked.”
She pushed her hair behind her ears, “I had it. You’re a client, I would never.”
“I’m a man,” he replied calmly, “I would never let a woman handle something like that in my presence.”
“Thank you,” she said quietly.
“Let’s get a few more shots in,” Shea added while regaining her footing. “Then we’ll head back to my office.”
“Sounds good.”
Jason sat at the boardroom table, legs bouncing beneath him. His hands lay flat on the table, eyes forward, focus fractured.
“Jason!”
His head jolted at the sound of his name. His father.
“You hear me talking to you?” Mr. Campbell asked.
“Sorry, what’d you say?” Jason responded.
“Where are we on the London contract?”
“I meet with the clients on tomorrow to finalize the deal.” Jason said, lifting the glass of water in front of him. His hands trembled slightly.
“Are you capable of closing it” he asked coolly. “We can’t afford to drop the ball. And you seem to be losing your grip.”
Jason met his father’s gaze, anger rising just beneath the surface. “I’m fine,” he stated firmly as he stood while buttoning his coat.”
“Where are you going,” his father demanded. “We’re not done.”
“You’re not, Jason responded already walking away. “But I am.”
He pulled out his phone as he headed to the elevator.
Shea: Pub after your consultation. 911.
He hit send, slid into his car, and drove off.
Kayla turned the corner toward the conference room when she spotted Taylor speaking with one of the executives, the writers, and Mr. Connelly.
Her stomach tightened.
She better have my smoothie standing there yapping, Kayla muttered under her breath.
“Gentlemen,” Kayla said brightly as she approached, “are we ready?”
“Ladies first,” one of the executives replied.
Taylor scurried away, eyes down.
Everyone filed into the conference room. Mr. Connelly entered last, closing the door behind him.
“Good morning, everyone.”
“Good morning,” the room echoed.
“Before we begin,” Mr. Connelly said calmly, “there’s something that needs to be addressed.”
“Ms. Steward,” he added.
Kayla lifted her chin proudly. “Yes, sir?”
“Was there an issue this morning?”
Kayla frowned. “Not to my knowledge.”
One of the executives shifted in his seat.
“Ma’am,” he said, standing now, “are you certain there was no mishap?”
Kayla’s brows lifted, confusion etched across her face. “Yes.”
The executive stepped forward, his movements deliberate.
“Ms. Steward, is it?” he asked.
“Yes.”
He looked her up and down slowly. “I sense a great deal of arrogance in you.”
“Not arrogance,” Kayla shot back. “Confidence.”
He chuckled low. “Forgive me.”
Then his tone shifted.
“With that confidence, do you feel it’s your right to belittle others?”
Kayla swallowed. Silence.
“No comment, Ms. Steward?” he pressed.
“I haven’t belittled—.”
“I overheard your interaction with the intern,” he cut in.
Kayla’s gaze dropped. When she looked up again, Taylor was reentering the room.
Her legs weakened.
“Ms. Steward,” the executive said firmly, “repeat to her what you said this morning about your smoothie.”
Kayla’s throat tightened.
“I’m sorry,” she whispered.
“Repeat it,” he demanded again.
Mr. Connelly shifted uncomfortably. “Kayla,” he urged, “let’s not prolong this.”
“I told her,” Kayla said, voice shaking, “that if she couldn’t improvise on small tasks like getting a smoothie, she wouldn’t make it in this industry.”
A gasp rippled through the room.
Mr. Connelly pulled a black pocket square from his jacket, wiping the sheen of sweat from his forehead.
“Ah,” the executive said calmly. “Your smoothie.”
Kayla said nothing.
“No need to answer,” he continued. “Mr. Connelly, I will not film my project in a space where workplace bullying is tolerated.”
Mr. Connelly’s jaw tightened.
“This will be handled,” he said quickly. “Ms. Steward is suspended immediately.”
Kayla’s head snapped toward him. Shock. Betrayal.
“Taylor,” the executive said, motioning her forward. “Come here.”
Taylor stepped closer, trembling.
“Ms. Steward,” the executive continued, “I believe you owe my daughter an apology.”
The room fell silent.
Kayla’s shoulders slumped. Mr. Connelly looked like he might crumble.
“I’m sorry,” Kayla said quietly.
“Kayla,” Mr. Connelly said, voice firm now, “leave the premises. We’ll speak later.”
She exited nothing like she entered. Head bowed. Eyes glassy. Every gaze on her for entirely different reasons.
Outside, Kayla slid into her Dodge Charger. The engine rumbled beneath her as tears streamed freely.
She shifted into gear and pulled out of the lot, humiliation riding shotgun.
Shea wrapped up the shoot, gathering equipment when her phone chimed.
“We can take this to my office,” she said to Xavièr. “Review the stills and discuss next steps.”
“Okay,” he replied, pulling his shirt on.
Shea headed down the hall toward her office, glancing at her phone as she walked.
Jason: Finishing up shortly. I’ll text when I’m heading out.
She hit send just as Xavièr stepped inside.
Even after nearly forty minutes, his cologne still announced his presence.
“So,” Shea began, settling behind her desk. “You’re definitely a natural. The camera loves you.” She turned the display toward him. “These are the raw stills.”
She leaned forward slightly as the images filled the screen.
“Wow,” Xavièr said. “These are incredible without edits.”
“Thank you,” Shea replied, tucking her hair behind her ear.
“How soon do you need a finished portfolio? And what direction are you aiming for?”
“I’ve got a few diverse roles in mind,” he said, studying the screen. “Plus some modeling work. One is for an underwear company, if you’re comfortable with that.”
Shea swallowed, the sound louder than she intended.
“I don’t have an issue,” she said evenly. “Unless you’d be uncomfortable with another person present. Just to keep things clear.”
Xavièr scratched the back of his head. “That’s fine. We can wait until my agent gives the green light on those anyway.”
“Perfect,” Shea said, relief washing over her.
“I’ll email you my quotes, contract, and let you know when the edits are ready for pickup.”
Xavièr smiled. “Perfect indeed.”
He reached out, and Shea shook his hand.
“Thank you for allowing me to capture your essence,” she said.
Xavièr chuckled softly. “You’re welcome.”
She winced slightly. “That came out wrong.”
“It’s okay,” he said, amused. “I understood.”
“Have a great day,” Shea added.
“You too.”
He exited the shop, leaving the space noticeably quieter than before.
Shea grabbed her phone, gathered her purse, and locked up the studio.
Jason: On my way.
Jason sat at the corner table where he could see everyone who walked in.
The waitress stopped beside him. “Hey, Jay. Your usual?”
“Yep,” Jason replied.
She smiled. “Bourbon, neat. Coming right up.”
He glanced at Shea’s text again. She wouldn’t be long.
His phone buzzed. His father. Again.
Jason shrugged out of his jacket and stared at the table, jaw tight.
The waitress returned with his drink just as Shea pushed through the door.
“Go ahead and bring another,” Jason said, nodding toward Shea, “and her bougie water.”
The waitress giggled.
Shea shot him a look as she approached. “It’s too early to be drinking, Jay.”
“It’s happy hour somewhere,” he said, lifting the glass. “I needed this.”
When Shea finally met his eyes, she saw it. The weight. The exhaustion he wasn’t naming.
She stepped forward and hugged him tight, whispering, “I love you,” against his ear.
Jason shook his head slightly. No words came. Today carried a solemn he had no interest in unpacking.
“How was your consult?” he asked after a moment.
Shea hesitated. Just enough.
“It was fine,” she said. Jason squinted. “Oh no, ma’am. You’re holding something back.” He wiped at his eye with his thumb. “And I could really use the distraction. Spill it.”
Kae Jaye The Writer 