Danielle Steel - Remembrance

That summer Serena had been in New York for a year, and she was so busy that she could barely spend a minute with Teddy. Fortunately for her, Vanessa was in camp for two months.

By the middle of August Serena was so booked up with jobs every day that she asked Dorothea to stop scheduling so many. She needed some time off and she had decided to give herself at least a week before Vanessa came back.

“Can't you put them off for a couple of weeks?” She looked pleadingly at Dorothea.

Dorothea looked at the waiting list of people begging for Serena, and smiled at her with a knowing look. “You're a lucky lady, Serena. Just look at this.” She handed the list briefly to Serena, who shook her head and groaned as she fell into a chair. he was wearing a white linen skirt, a little red and white striped halter, and red sandals, with red and white bracelets all up and down one arm. She looked like a peppermint stick as she stood there, all fresh and blond and young and groomed to perfection, and it was easy to see why half the photographers in town wanted to use her, not to mention at least a dozen in Italy, France, Germany, and Japan. “You know, I almost envy you. I'd like to think it was like this for me. But I'm not sure it was. On the other hand”—she smiled again—”you have a much better agency than I had in my day.” Serena laughed and ran a hand through her hair.

“So can you get me a break in the next couple of weeks, Dorothea? I really need it. I haven't been away all year.” Teddy had fled to Newport a few days before, and she really envied him his time at the seashore. He had offered to take her to the Cape, but ever since Vanessa had gone, she had been doubly busy, and she hadn't been able to get away. Now at least, if she could have some time to herself, she could go out to the Hamptons, or even stay in town and, luxury of luxuries, stay in bed for a few days!

“I'll see what I can do.” She mused over the list again. “The only one I actually don't think I can change is Vasili Arbus.” She glanced at the name.

“Who's that?”

“You don't know him?” Dorothea looked surprised.

“Should I?”

“The British think he's another Andy Morgan. He's half English, half Greek, and totally crazy, but”—she thought about him for a moment—”he does extraordinarily good work.”

“As good as Andy?” After a year in New York Serena knew them all, and Andy Morgan had also become a friend. She occasionally met him for lunch at the studio between jobs, and when they had a shooting together, they stayed on after hours to talk about work. There was nothing physical about the relationship, but she was very fond of him as a friend and a colleague.

Dorothea was still pondering the question. “I don't know. He's awfully good. His work is different. You'll see.”

“I have to do him?” Serena looked annoyed.

“We have no choice. He booked you three months ago, from London, for a job that he knew he had coming up over here. He's only here for a few weeks to service some of his American accounts, and then he'll go back to London. I hear he keeps a house there, another in Athens, an apartment in Paris, and a villa in the South of France.”

“Does he only travel or does he also work?” For some reason the very sound of his name annoyed her. He sounded spoiled, and she had already met a few of his genre. International playboys hiding behind cameras, using it as a new and interesting way to pick up girls. And that she did not need. As Dorothea said, she was a pro, and she worked like one. Vasili Arbus didn't sound like her cup of tea.

Dorothea looked at her over her glasses. “Why not give him a chance?” And then she added with thoughtful deliberation, “As a photographer. Not as a man. He's charming as hell, but Vasili Arbus is not someone to get involved with. Not that you would.” She smiled at Serena, who looked amused.

“I must be known in this business as The Ice Maiden.” Serena grinned, but Dorothea shook her head.

“I don't think so, Serena. I think most of the guys just know that you don't fool around. It makes you easier to work with, I suspect. There are no expectations other than the obvious professional ones.”

“Well, I'll just see that Mr. Arbus understands that.”

Dorothea couldn't repress a smile. “With him, I must admit, you may have a little more trouble.”

“Oh?” Serena arched an aristocratic eyebrow. She never had trouble with anyone she worked with, because she chose not to.

“You'll see. He's just like a big charming child.”

“Terrific. I want to go on vacation, and you stick me with working for a childlike playboy.” Dorothea mused for a moment, Serena had inadvertently come up with the perfect description of Vasili. That was just what he was—a childlike playboy. “Anyway, see what you can do. If you can't cancel him, I'll do it. Just so he does the work quickly, and I can get the hell out of town for a rest while the rest of my family is still away.” She had two weeks before Vanessa came back from camp and Teddy returned from Newport.

“I'll do what I can.”

But the next morning Dorothea informed her that she had been able to shift everything around except Vasili Arbus, arid he expected her to come to his studio at two o'clock that afternoon.

“Any idea how long he'll be shooting?”

“He thought maybe two days.”

“All right,” Serena sighed. Two days she could handle, and then she could go somewhere for a few days and relax. She couldn't join Teddy in Newport of course, because of his mother, but she didn't even mind that. She knew that his life there was a round of parties, and when she went away, she didn't even want to comb her hair.

She got the address of the studio Arbus was using, checked her supplies, makeup, hair spray, mirrors, an assortment of brushes, four pairs of shoes, a bathing suit, some shorts, stockings, three different brassieres, and a little simple jewelry. You never knew what you were going to need when you went to work.

She reported to the address she'd been given at exactly two thirty and was led into the studio by his assistant, a very attractive young man. The boy spoke English with an accent, it was not quite a lisp, and not quite a slur, he had dark brown hair and olive skin, big black eyes, and a boyish air about him, and Serena guessed correctly that he was Greek.

“We've seen a lot of your work, Serena.” He looked at her admiringly. “Vasili likes it very much.”

“Thank you.” She smiled pleasantly at him, wondering how old he was. He looked about nineteen, and she felt like his grandmother at twenty-eight.

“Would you like some coffee?”

“Thanks. Should I start working on my makeup?” She also wanted to know how they wanted her to do her hair, but the young man with the black eyes shook his head.

“Just relax. We're not shooting this afternoon. Vasili just wants to meet you.” At two hundred dollars an hour? He was paying just to meet her? Serena looked a little surprised.

“When do we start working?”

“Tomorrow. The next day. When Vasili's ready.” Oh, Jesus. She could see her vacation flying out the window as they got acquainted.

“Does he always do this?” To Serena it seemed foolish. If there was work to be done, she wanted to do it and go home.

“Sometimes. If the client is important and the model is new. It means a lot to Vasili to know his models.”

“Oh, really?” There was an edge to Serena's voice and she hoped that it didn't mean too much to him. She was not there to play with Vasili. She was there to do her work before the camera and that was it. But just as she began to say something else to the assistant, she felt a presence behind her, and she turned to see a man looking into her eyes with such magnetic power that she caught her breath. He had startled her, standing so close to her, but everything about him was startling. His hair shone like onyx, his eyes were like black gems, sparkling at her with barely hidden laughter, he had a broad angular face and high cheekbones, a rich, sensuous mouth, and a suntan that gave him almost honey-colored skin. He was tall and broad shouldered, with narrow hips and long legs. He actually looked mere like one of his own male models than a photographer, and he was wearing a red T-shirt and jeans and sandals.