Lindsey Kelk - A Girl’s Best Friend

Raquel looked at me with her dead shark eyes. ‘You’re a what?’

‘A photographer,’ I replied. It was hard to sound confident when you looked like a Picasso painting of a clown. Brown blocks on my cheeks, silver triangles around my chin, bright red circles under my eyes. It was a grand look.

‘I see.’

‘I’ve been in Hawaii,’ I said, folding my arms around me. ‘Shooting for Gloss magazine.’

‘Is that right?’

‘And Milan,’ I said, nodding. ‘I was working with Bertie Bennett. You probably won’t know who he is but he’s basically a fashion legend. He’s huge. Just an incredible man. An inspiration really.’

‘And this …’ She gestured towards my face, reminding me of my current situation in case I’d somehow forgotten for a split second. ‘Is something to do with that?’

‘It’s a make-up test,’ I said, hoping she didn’t have any follow-up questions. ‘I’m testing make-up.’

Playing make-up guinea pig was another in a long line of Ess’s super-fun challenges. Like how he’d had me wear a necklace of sausages for two hours last Wednesday morning and then source fourteen gerbils and six guinea pigs for a ‘concept’, only to discover that the model was allergic to rodents, meaning I had to return them before she would even walk into the studio.

‘And what about Charlie?’ Raquel asked. ‘How’s lovely Charlie?’

‘He’s fine,’ I told her. ‘I saw him last night.’

‘So exciting to see him go out on his own,’ she said, her over-tweezed eyebrows arching high into her hairline. ‘And picking up Peritos as his first client? Impressive.’

‘He’s very talented.’ I shoved my hands in my pockets and wished I’d brought my gloves. It was windy and cold and I very much wanted to be inside. ‘He’s going to do very well.’

‘I was surprised to hear you weren’t working together, you two were always so buddy-buddy.’

‘You know, I’m actually late,’ I said, looking past her to see a queue forming out the door of Starbucks. ‘I’m shooting a feature for No-No magazine – have you heard of it?’

‘I can’t say I’m familiar with it, but I’m sure it’s very good,’ she said, flipping her bleached blonde head around, stretching up to her full five-foot-nothing.

I stood in the street, looking down at the woman who had taken away my job with a smile, and suddenly realized she didn’t matter. None of it mattered. She could stand in the middle of the street and try to make me feel shit every single day for the rest of the year and it wouldn’t mean a thing. She couldn’t fire me again; I was the only one who could fuck up now. So why waste another second worrying about what she thought of me?

‘You know, you actually did me a massive favour,’ I said, giving her a big, bright smile. ‘And I never said thank you.’

‘I did?’ she asked, her smile fading as mine grew. ‘How’s that?’

‘Sacking me,’ I explained. ‘Best thing that ever happened to me.’

‘Oh.’ Her thick foundation formed deep orange creases on her forehead as she frowned. ‘Well, I’m glad you’ve been able to find a positive in such a difficult situation.’

‘Absolutely! And not just because I never have to see you again!’ I replied, quickly looking at my watch. ‘Ooh, is that the time? It’s been so great to see you—’

‘I’m at Eskum now,’ she said, interrupting before I could make my escape. ‘Director of people—’

‘Wow, yeah? I actually really don’t care,’ I said, taking my turn to interrupt. I flashed her one more smile as she visibly shrivelled in front of me. ‘But gosh, those poor, poor people.’

Raquel looked as though I’d slapped her in the face and I wished I had.

‘I wish I could count all of the fucks I don’t give but I’ve only got eight fingers and two thumbs and that’s not nearly enough,’ I said, giving her a brief hug and ever such a tiny shove. ‘Have a lovely day, Raquel. Or don’t. Doesn’t really matter.’

I turned on my heel and marched off down the road, ridiculous painted head held high in my cock cap.

‘Ess!’ I shouted as I pushed the door open against the wind.

‘Thank God, my stomach thinks my throat’s been cut,’ he said, holding his hand out for his coffee with one hand and scratching his crotch with the other. ‘You were gone more than ten minutes though.’

‘I haven’t got your coffee,’ I replied, marching across the studio and throwing the Cock cap at 7. ‘I want to go over my portfolio.’

‘We haven’t got time,’ Ess replied, pointing across the studio to the styling area. ‘Now sod off and bring me a coffee.’

‘We won’t be done for at least an hour,’ Rachel the make-up artist called over to us with a thumbs up. ‘Take your time.’

Hands on my hips and feeling only slightly less confident than I had been thirty seconds earlier, I stared Ess down until he gave a sigh and shook his head in defeat.

‘Fine, pass it here,’ he said, holding out his hands. ‘But if they’re shit, I’ll tell you they’re shit.’

‘Good.’ I pulled my portfolio out of my bag, bouncing across the room. ‘Whatever advice you can give me, I’d appreciate it.’

‘Most of the time my advice is stop trying to take photos,’ he grunted, flicking through the pages, skipping over my shoot for Gloss , my pictures of Milan, without even stopping to take a proper look. ‘It’s quicker.’

Biting my thumbnail, I crossed my fingers.

‘Shit,’ he said, flipping through the pages without really looking. ‘Shit, shit, shit. Ready to give up yet?’

‘No,’ I said, barely breathing. ‘You can keep going.’

He paused on a shot of Al, sat on the beach in Hawaii and staring out at the ocean.

‘I don’t hate this one,’ he announced, slamming the book shut. ‘Now go and get my coffee.’

‘That’s it?’ I asked, crushed. ‘You don’t hate that one so we’re done?’

‘I don’t hate that one so I’ll look at the rest later,’ he clarified. ‘Now you go and get my coffee and we’ll go through the rest of them after the shoot if I don’t decide it’s a complete waste of my time before then.’

‘Oh my God,’ 7 whispered, pulling me away after Ess shoved my portfolio into my chest and walked away, muttering to himself. ‘That’s the nicest thing I’ve ever heard him say about anyone’s photos.’

‘Really?’ I asked, a tiny spark of hope lighting up inside me. ‘That was nice?’

‘Have you met him before?’ he asked. ‘Don’t push it. That was a big compliment.’

‘Why are you still here?’ Ess barked, looking over his shoulder at me. ‘Why isn’t there a cup of coffee in my hand?’

Nodding, I threw my portfolio back in my bag and ran out the door. Two weeks I’d been there and I’d finally got him to look at my photos. If I could get Ess to give me some genuine feedback, I felt as though I could do anything. This must have been that ball-swinging feeling Agent Veronica had been talking about and I didn’t hate it.

As I jogged down the street I made another big ball swinging decision. Pulling out my phone, I opened up the internet browser and tapped in ‘New York flights’. There was nothing stopping me taking photos while I was in New York, was there? Maybe there would even be a course I could take. Donovan & Dunning’s American office barely closed for the holidays so I was far more likely to find something useful in New York than I was hanging around my mum’s house getting squiffy on Baileys and ignoring my sisters.

As soon as I’d picked up four flat whites, two Frappuccinos and a green juice, I told myself, I was going to book my flight to New York and work the rest of it out from there. Well, after I’d done that and finished the day at work, washed my face, gone home and had some tea. And packed. And called my mum. And done the online paperwork.