New York was hot in September. It was still as loud and crowded as ever, like it was alive. The people moved about like worker ants on their way to whatever queen might be their destination. The long black limousine pulled up to the Smythe Tribeca. Alex emerged from it in a graphic black tee and jeans, sporting flip flops. Viktor Andreev, his media liason, joined him and opened the door to the hotel. A pretty young woman with long blonde hair approached them extending her hand first to Alex and then to Viktor. She led them to the elevator, chattering about the photo shoot. She led them to the Penthouse and introduced Alex to the photographer du jour, Don Painter.
“Nice to meet you, Alex. I’m excited to be working with you today. Man, you are a big guy.”
Alex smiled. He’d heard that often enough. It usually meant that the photographer was hoping he’d had big enough clothes, in this case, a suit. Painter led Alex to the costumer, who didn’t at all seem concerned about Alex’s size. She handed him three hangers and shoes and sent him off to get dressed. Alex assumed that the photographer didn’t know that this suit had been tailored to fit him, or perhaps his comment wasn’t about the suit after all. He was a big guy. It wasn’t like the played tennis. He played hockey, size helped a bit. Alex laid the suit across the bed and pulled his tee off over his head. He deposited his jeans and shirt across the chair next to the bed. He pulled on the grey pants and burgundy shirt. He actually liked this suit. After being approached by Hugo Boss, Alex had two suits tailored for himself. He liked the way the jacket fit across his broad shoulders. It was not too tight so he didn’t feel too restricted.
Alex emerged from the bedroom and was ushered to the stylist, who would dust with make-up and fix his hair. He didn’t like this part. If he could get away with it, he would always ask for no make-up. He hated it. Unfortunately, for this photo shoot, he would have to endure it. Hugo Boss was paying him a lot of money to look good in their suit, it was the least he could do.
Painter had set up his camera in front of a large half-moon couch. He instructed Alex to sit comfortably. Alex did as he was told and the pretty blonde assistant fussed with the collar of his shirt. She smiled at him. She clearly appreciated the suit. She was very thin, too thin for his taste, but she had a long pretty neck and her smile was sweet. Still, he was relieved when she stepped back and waited for further instruction from Painter. She had done nothing to make him uncomfortable, but photo shoots in general were hard for him.
Painter snapped lots of pictures. Alex thought he was a very different photographer than Zoey. She found beauty, recognized it and captured it. Painter fussed with him constantly, seeming to create the beauty he was looking for. It was hard not to think of Zoey while he was here in New York. This was her home. She might even be here somewhere. He wasn’t sure when her tour of Europe was over. He missed her more than he expected to. He missed her smile. He missed the way she looked at him.
Painter barked out some more instructions and Alex remember what he was supposed to be doing. The shoot really didn’t last more than two hours, but it just seemed to drag on forever. The pretty girl made it clear she was interested. Had he been a better mood, he would have taken her to lunch maybe, back to his hotel surely, but today he was just irritated by her.
He made his way out of the Penthouse as quickly as possible when they were done with him. Viktor seemed puzzled by his friend, but as a good friend, he did not question Alex.
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