Coming into Focus, page 4
He rolled his eyes at that, but didn’t bother to comment on it. “This isn’t like you at all. I don’t want you to go when you’re mad.”
“You don’t want me to stay, either.” I gave myself a moment to collect my thoughts, then said, “If you need a relationship with your mom, I can’t stop you. I’m just going to remind you not to trust her. Don’t be a sucker.”
He sat on my bed and patted the spot next to him. “Stop for a minute and talk to me. You don’t have to leave right this second.”
My phone buzzed in my pocket, my ride announcing itself from the driveway. “I’m leaving now.” My voice was unsteady. “You were so young; you don’t remember. Dad and I were there to distract you, and you got past it. You have this idealized version of who she should be—and that’s not who she is.”
I put my hair into a high ponytail and twisted it into a bun. I straightened the alarm clock and reading lamp on my nightstand.
“It was a long time ago. People change.”
“No they don’t, Toby. She’s a person who leaves when things are hard. That’s who she was when we needed her, and it’s who she’s always going to be. Don’t count on her. Call me if you need me, and I will come home. Okay?”
“Are you really leaving?”
“Call me if you need me,” I said again. “I will come back if you ask me to.”
“It’s you I’m worried about. I’ll be fine.”
Toby assumed it was going to be easy, but he didn’t really have any idea what it was like to be alone. We’d only been apart once. I went away and left him with Dad, and it was such a disaster that I’d come right back. I put my camera bag over one shoulder and a duffel over the other. “All right, I’m going. Wish me luck. This guy is going to be a handful. I’ll text you when I get there.”
“Are you mad?”
It was tempting to smooth over it. Even a day ago, I would have, but if he was feeling like such an adult, he needed to understand his actions impacted other people. “Yeah. I’m mad and hurt.” I paused. “It’ll be fine.”
When I left my room, I came right back. “Don’t forget you have a doctor’s appointment on Tuesday.”
I went back toward the front door. then reversed course again and went back to my room. “And make sure you get insurance for your stupid car. Get full coverage if you can afford it. Make sure the deductible isn’t more than you can handle if something happens. Goodbye.”
The next time I made it to the front door. “Send your tuition check in on time, or you’ll have late fees,” I yelled.
“I love you, Willa!” he called.
It’s important to let people know when they’ve let you down, so I slammed the door on the way out.
Then I yanked it back open. “I love you, too. Lock this behind me.”
I used my commute time to take care of some business. Leaving a message with the computer lab didn’t even give me a twinge of guilt. It was the easiest job in the world; they’d have no trouble replacing me.
I texted Jenny. The coffee shop wouldn’t be open for another few hours, and I hoped she’d be sleeping. No such luck. My phone rang seconds later. I explained what was going on and apologized for not being able to give her notice. “This guy is a wreck, Jenny, and he needs help now. It can’t wait.”
“You’re going to be an assistant. To Jimmy Standish. From Corporate.” Her voice was flat.
“Right. They’re a band from England.”
“I’m aware of who Corporate is, Willa. I don’t live under a rock.” Ouch. “The next time you want to quit a job and leave someone high and dry right before morning rush, you need a more plausible lie.”
“What? No, I—”
“Thanks a lot, Willa. Enjoy your time with ‘Corporate.’” She disconnected. I glared at my phone and made a mental note to send her a picture of me with Jimmy. She’d feel like an ass.
Uncle Ken probably wouldn’t be awake yet, so I tapped an email to him. I was a few sentences in when my phone rang. “I was just emailing you, Uncle Ken.”
“Toby called. He’s worried. What are you doing?”
“I’m going to build a portfolio so I can work for you for real. You don’t need me as your photo-retouch girl. Anybody can do what I do.”
“Is this because you and Toby got in a fight? Did he tell you he was going to school?”
My stomach turned. “He told you?”
“We met for lunch the other day,” Uncle Ken said gently. “He wasn’t sure how he should bring it up.”
“He probably could have done better than he did.”
“Is it why you’re leaving?”
“No.” I was watching the scenery flash by the window. I didn’t recognize anything. I was already a bit at sea, and I hadn’t even left Tennessee.
“Talk to me,” Uncle Ken said.
“The opportunity fell in my lap, and I decided to take it. That’s it. I’m tired of overthinking everything. Nobody needs me at home. Jimmy needs me wherever he is, and it sounds like an easy job. I can take pictures whenever he doesn’t need me. There’s no downside. I thought you’d be glad for me,” I added. “I’m chasing my dreams or whatever.”
He sounded tired. “I am happy you’re taking advantage of a new opportunity. I am. I’m not sure I love your reasoning for doing it is all. You don’t need to prove anything to me. I know you’re talented. I already offered you a job. Many, many times.”
“I don’t want a charity job.”
“It’s not charity,” he said, his usual response. “I could help you, Willa. I have money. It’s what your dad would want me to do. It’s what I want to do.”
I understood he wanted to help me. By giving me money, or paying the bills, or giving me a job—but I wanted to earn what I had. I wanted to take care of Toby myself. We’d had this conversation a hundred times. We didn’t need to have it again.
He sounded resigned when he spoke again. “Be careful, Willa. Jimmy Standish is…a lot. His world isn’t like your world.”
I scoffed. “My world isn’t great right now, so that sounds like a pretty good thing to me.”
“Be careful,” he repeated.
“I love you. I’ll call you in a few days.”
I disconnected and put my phone back in my pocket. I stood up straight and squared my shoulders. What I was doing was out of character, but surely it was healthy to turn over a new leaf. This was going to be a great opportunity and I was proud of myself for going for it.
That didn’t mean I wasn’t nervous.
I wasn’t the kind of person who made spontaneous decisions. My decisions had all been made around Toby.
A voice in the back of my head told me this one was because of him, too, but this time the momentum was away from him rather than toward him.
I told the voice to be quiet. New opportunities. New job. Brand new Willa, coming right up, for better or for worse.
It was time for what was next.
“What was next” hadn’t literally fainted by the time I got to him a few hours later, but he wasn’t far from it.
I nearly fainted when the car dropped me off at the most glamorous hotel I’d ever seen. I could have been in a movie.
I tapped on the door. “Hey. Jimmy. It’s me.”
He swung open the door, closed his fingers around my wrist, and drew me in. “Thank God you’re here. Did you bring me food?”
I brandished a pizza box at him, which I had picked up at a pizza joint I’d spotted near the hotel.
He beamed. “You’re a brilliant assistant already. Put your stuff down, and let’s eat. Did it go okay leaving your brother? Your room is next door. Or you can sleep in here with me if you want to. I wasn’t sure if you were a sleeps-alone type or a likes-the-company-of-sleeping-with-a-friend type.”
“I’m a sleeps-alone type.” I opened the adjoining door and dropped off my stuff. He was already well into the pizza when I rejoined him.
“Did you bring clothes? I told you don’t bring clothes! We’ll shop tomorrow. You need to be in aesthetic anyway, darling, and for example, what you have on isn’t.”
I glanced down at myself. “What’s wrong with how I’m dressed?” It was my favorite shirt. This topped the list of my limited options.
“Nothing, when you weren’t with me. Now you are with me, and, um… we don’t wear colors.”
I inspected his ensemble—black sweater, black jeans. I wouldn’t even bother photographing him in color. The rich tones of black and white would suit him perfectly. Unless his tattoos were out, there was no color anyway.
“Black, white, or gray,” he continued. “All natural fibers. Your pretty, young skin needs to breathe. It’s fine. Stop worrying. We’ll get it sorted in the morning.”
“I’m not worried,” I said cheerfully. “If you can afford to buy me a new wardrobe, knock yourself out.”
He leaned back in his chair. “I can afford it. Now listen. You need to help me. We have to get into my email. I have to tell Hawk to stop paying Josette, first of all, and I don’t know where I’m supposed to be tomorrow. It’s all in there.”
“’Kay,” I agreed. “Let’s log in.”
“Right. Only I don’t remember my password.” He stared at his open laptop and shrugged. “It could be anything. I told it to Josette, then poof. Gone from my mind. How good are you at hacking?”
Toby could probably get us in if I needed him to, but I didn’t want to call him. “Let’s see if I can guess it.”
He pushed the computer to me, and I made a guess. Presto.
“You clever girl! How did you know?”
“It’s JimmyJimmy. Your name, but twice. That’s—”
“The best password ever, right? Don’t forget it because we’ll need it again. Write it on your hand.”
“I’m pretty sure I won’t forget it. Do you want to talk about what happened with Josette?”
“No, Willa, I do not. Because it doesn’t matter.”
I wasn’t sure if I was supposed to encourage him to tell me more or if he legitimately didn’t want to discuss it, so I waited.
“Because if it mattered, she would not be gone,” he said.
“Got it.”
“Willa, listen.” He put a hand on my arm. “She’s gone, so she’s gone. The end. I don’t mean I don’t want to talk about it right now. I don’t want to talk about it ever.”
It made sense to me. If someone leaves you, they’re gone. I covered his hand with mine. “It’s cool. I already forgot who we’re not talking about.”
“Josette!” he cried. I gave him a minute. “Oh, right. You were doing a thing. I got you now.” He tapped the side of his nose and winked. “You should probably dive right in, Willa. Figure out where we’re supposed to be. But a warning—it’s probably for the best if you don’t open attachments. Sometimes fans send me things you might not like to see. Best to err on the side of caution, right? Mark those with a star, and I’ll get to them later.”
He found something on the television and zoned out. I opened his email, and he was not wrong. There were hundreds of unread messages. I started one list for schedule updates, one list for other band business, and, after one jarring mistake, carefully avoided his fan mail. Once I’d made us an agenda for the next few days, I felt less scattered.
Our first day together flew by. After dark, I went into my adjoining room and flipped on the lights. I was stunned all over again by how different his world was. My room was as extravagant as his. The plush carpet was spotless. A floor-to-ceiling window overlooked the city. I opened the curtains, turned off the room lights, and took in the city lights while I daydreamed about what my photography career would be like when I went back home.
Uncle Ken paged through my portfolio, full of gorgeous, glossy prints in a fancy leather binder.
“Willa! My God! This is brilliant!”
“I do like to imagine I have a style of my own. Charlie has been your head photographer for years, and I’d never dream—”
“Charlie who? My only question is which of these I should choose for our next cover! Listen, I need you to get these to the lab right away. Ask someone to scan these in. No retouching! It’s flawless.”
We were interrupted by Hope barging into Ken’s office, the other reporters close on her heels, clamoring to hire me for their next story.
I snuggled into the cozy bed, more optimistic than I had been in a long time. The celebrity photography world was waiting for someone like me. Once I was working as a photographer and making more money, Toby and I wouldn’t have to worry. Our missing maternal figure wouldn’t have to pay Toby’s tuition because I would do it myself. I’d renovate the house when I was between wonderful photo excursions.
Things were definitely going to be changing for me.
Chapter Five
I’d hoped a benefit of my new job was going to be the ability to sleep in. No such luck. Maybe the bed was a bit too comfortable, or maybe it was the habit of early starts. I was awake before daylight.
Since I was up anyway, I decided to do some research. I opened a search engine on my phone and entered “Corporate.” Before I got anywhere, my phone buzzed in my hand.
Jimmy: 911 911 911
I rushed into his room. “Are you okay? What’s the matter? Are you hurt?”
He was propped up in bed with the room service menu. “Good morning, my American friend. Breakfast is on the way!” When he looked at me, the color drained from his face. “Good Christ, Willa. What is happening there?”
“’911’ means emergency, Jimmy. Is something wrong?”
“It is now! What in the unholy fuck are you wearing?”
“What?” It was just a nightgown. Like all nightgowns, I imagine. White. Short sleeves. Knee-length. If we’re being honest, it did have some fussy lace trim around the sleeves and the hem, but it was comfortable.
“Is this what you sleep in?”
“Uh, yeah.”
“Wow. Okay. Don’t panic.” He took a deep breath. “It might have worked for your old life, although I can’t imagine how there’s any life it would work in, but it won’t work for this one. Is it polyester? Never mind. Don’t tell me. My nan has the same nightgown, Willa. I imagine. I’ve never seen her in her sleepwear, but I bet you she does.”
“Jimmy.”
“Oliver’s nan doesn’t, I can promise you. He hates to have it mentioned, but she’s quite fit, actually, for a woman approaching ninety. Very spry. Oh, hold on, speak of the devil, just got a text. Oliver, not his nan. I’ll call him.”
“Sounds good. Since there was not an emergency and you totally abused 911 privileges, I’m going back to my room.”
“Absolutely not, darling, it’s time to be up. No, not you, Oliver. I was talking to Willa. She came to my rescue last night like I told you she would. Remember? You said, ‘Don’t be absurd, why would you hire a photographer who’s actually a barista to be your assistant,’ but I overruled you because my instincts are never wrong, apart from when they are, and this wasn’t one of those times. You want to talk to her?”
I waved my hands in the international symbol for “I don’t want to talk on the phone,” but maybe it wasn’t international after all because Jimmy presented me with the phone, beaming. “Say hi to Oliver!”
I crossed to the bed and took the phone. “Um, hi. Hello. I’m Willa Reynolds. I’m here with Jimmy.”
“Hello, Willa Reynolds. How’s your second day? Please say it isn’t going to be your last day.”
His accent was similar to Jimmy’s, but thicker somehow, like the vowels were bigger. His voice, though—it wasn’t like any other voice I’d ever heard. It was deep and smooth, and it made me think of things that taste good. The auditory equivalent of chocolate or espresso. Warm and rich.
“You there?”
“Hi! Yes. Sorry. I’m here. He’s a lot, but I can handle him. Are the rest of you a little lower key? Please say yes.”
Oliver laughed, and my stomach did a funny flip. I figured I must be hungrier than I realized. “On a scale from subdued to Jimmy, Eric is in the middle, and you’ll be able to handle me with no problem.”
Jimmy held out his hand. “Okay, enough. Focus on me, both of you.” He took the phone back. “Oliver, this has been a lovely chat, but I must go. I’m having a real nightie emergency here, and it can’t wait. Oh. Well, what did you want? Right. I’ll ask Willa to email it to you. I have no idea where it is. Cheers, mate.”
He disconnected. “We need to start making setlists, Willa. Oliver is on fire to have one right away. I started one, but it’s somewhere in my damn laptop, and I have no idea where. Where were we? Oh, yes, right, we were talking about how you shouldn’t worry because you won’t ever have to sleep in that nasty thing again. Also, listen. I ordered breakfast since you were having a massive lie-in. I got you oatmeal.”
“I don’t want oatmeal. Gross.” Just because I was wearing granny pajammies didn’t mean I wanted granny breakfast.
“Oatmeal is healthy so I ordered it for both of us, but I got myself a couple other choices in case I change my mind. First things first, darling. We need to call Hawk. Don’t panic.”
He waited expectantly, but when I remained calm, he said, “All right, some panic is called for, maybe. It’s highly unlikely this will go well.”
I shrugged. It would be fine. Surely their manager’s job was to keep the talent happy. It was my job now, too. This Hawk, whoever he was… he and I were a team.
Jimmy wasn’t as calm. “All right, Willa. You definitely should panic. I am straight up panicking, and you should always follow my lead.”
A knock on the door announced our breakfast. “Hold that thought,” I said. I opened the door to a young woman with a cart piled high with food. She stopped dead at the sight of Jimmy in the bed and made choking noises like she had something lodged in her throat. I put a gentle hand on her back. “Are you all right? Can I call someone for you?”
“It’s Jimmy Standish,” she whispered.
“’Course not, love,” Jimmy said, accent ringing out loud and clear. “Jimmy Standish is English, isn’t he? Kentucky born and bred, me. I must be the spit of him because you’re not the first one to say it, is she, wifey?” He winked at me.
