fitted
suits are your idea of fun.”
“Do they know how to run a magazine?”
“Do they need to? As far as I can see, their editor just
looks in GQ and Esquire each month and then finds the equivalent
person or trend up here.”
“Ha ha. That’s quite mean.”
“I know. It’s hypocritical, too – I do the same thing in
my column most of the time.”
“I think we all borrow a little inspiration now and
then,” he admitted. “What’s the old line? Good artists borrow, great ones
steal?”
“Well, I’m getting tired of it, of knowing that so much
of my little world is just an imitation of something cooler and more authentic
happening elsewhere.”
“So what to do then?”
“Isn’t it obvious? We go to the source. New York, London,
Paris, Los Angeles.”
“And start over from scratch?”
“I’m afraid so. How sad for us, I know. The gods weep.”
He considered the possibility of the two of them going
down to New York together, taking their clichéd shot at the big time.
“Would you ever actually make that kind of move?” he
asked, curious.
“Yes, I would,” she said. “I’ve still got a couple of
years left on my current contract, and then... well, we’ll see. But sure, I
have schemes, just like everyone else. Book ideas, a couple of drafts of a
screenplay tucked away on the hard drive. I’d love to give it a shot.”
“Was that what you wanted to meet about?” he asked. “To
discuss our long-term plans?”
It was his boldest comment yet, but she didn’t miss a
beat.
“Nothing quite so grand, I’m sorry to say.”
“Well, then?”
“They’re doing a redesign over at the Telegraph ,
and it’s time to give my column a new look, but the photographers over there
are just so literal and blah. Typical newspaper types. Anyway, it’s not the
normal procedure, but I’d like to have my own shots done. The editor in chief
and I happen to be on very good terms, and he’ll say yes if I ask nicely. Plus,
I’m in talks with a small publisher here in town to bring out a collection of
my best columns, if you can believe it.”
“You want me to take your picture?”
“Well, it’s just a little thing, and I know it’s totally
beneath you, but I thought you might be willing to help out – for a fee, of
course.”
“Hmmm...” he said, folding his arms. Channeling Helmut,
he decided not to give in too easily.
“So you’ll do it then, that’s great!”
“Hang on, I didn’t say...”
In an instant, the warmth seemed to drain from her face,
which suddenly resembled a blank mask – not angry, not disappointed, just
indifferent, which was far worse. He scrambled to make that non-expression
disappear.
“I mean, are you sure you’d want me? You know my style
isn’t flashy.”
“Well, I saw your work at the magazine awards, when you
won your silver medal, and I’ve been through your online portfolio as well, you
may be interested to know. There’s a lot of variety in there – plenty of people
stuff. I want to do something fun and contemporary for a change. And I think
you’d be perfect for a project like that.”
“I see.”
It was over now, but she did him the kindness of
continuing to negotiate. She had a knack for it – not pushing too hard at any
one moment, or resorting again to the mask of indifference, but subtly moving
things along. She pointed out that it would be an opportunity for him, however
low-key, to apply his style to a new type of subject. She mentioned, in
passing, that there’d be many interesting people at the book launch she could
introduce him to. Who knew where the collaboration might lead?
When he finally allowed that sure, he’d be able to help
her out, it wasn’t a surprise to either of them. Nonetheless, her warm response
was such a relief, it was as if some subtle but resonant frequency of her being
was suddenly unblocked to him.
“Stephan! That is so wonderful – I’m really, really
grateful.”
A few minutes later, after she’d
suits are your idea of fun.”
“Do they know how to run a magazine?”
“Do they need to? As far as I can see, their editor just
looks in GQ and Esquire each month and then finds the equivalent
person or trend up here.”
“Ha ha. That’s quite mean.”
“I know. It’s hypocritical, too – I do the same thing in
my column most of the time.”
“I think we all borrow a little inspiration now and
then,” he admitted. “What’s the old line? Good artists borrow, great ones
steal?”
“Well, I’m getting tired of it, of knowing that so much
of my little world is just an imitation of something cooler and more authentic
happening elsewhere.”
“So what to do then?”
“Isn’t it obvious? We go to the source. New York, London,
Paris, Los Angeles.”
“And start over from scratch?”
“I’m afraid so. How sad for us, I know. The gods weep.”
He considered the possibility of the two of them going
down to New York together, taking their clichéd shot at the big time.
“Would you ever actually make that kind of move?” he
asked, curious.
“Yes, I would,” she said. “I’ve still got a couple of
years left on my current contract, and then... well, we’ll see. But sure, I
have schemes, just like everyone else. Book ideas, a couple of drafts of a
screenplay tucked away on the hard drive. I’d love to give it a shot.”
“Was that what you wanted to meet about?” he asked. “To
discuss our long-term plans?”
It was his boldest comment yet, but she didn’t miss a
beat.
“Nothing quite so grand, I’m sorry to say.”
“Well, then?”
“They’re doing a redesign over at the Telegraph ,
and it’s time to give my column a new look, but the photographers over there
are just so literal and blah. Typical newspaper types. Anyway, it’s not the
normal procedure, but I’d like to have my own shots done. The editor in chief
and I happen to be on very good terms, and he’ll say yes if I ask nicely. Plus,
I’m in talks with a small publisher here in town to bring out a collection of
my best columns, if you can believe it.”
“You want me to take your picture?”
“Well, it’s just a little thing, and I know it’s totally
beneath you, but I thought you might be willing to help out – for a fee, of
course.”
“Hmmm...” he said, folding his arms. Channeling Helmut,
he decided not to give in too easily.
“So you’ll do it then, that’s great!”
“Hang on, I didn’t say...”
In an instant, the warmth seemed to drain from her face,
which suddenly resembled a blank mask – not angry, not disappointed, just
indifferent, which was far worse. He scrambled to make that non-expression
disappear.
“I mean, are you sure you’d want me? You know my style
isn’t flashy.”
“Well, I saw your work at the magazine awards, when you
won your silver medal, and I’ve been through your online portfolio as well, you
may be interested to know. There’s a lot of variety in there – plenty of people
stuff. I want to do something fun and contemporary for a change. And I think
you’d be perfect for a project like that.”
“I see.”
It was over now, but she did him the kindness of
continuing to negotiate. She had a knack for it – not pushing too hard at any
one moment, or resorting again to the mask of indifference, but subtly moving
things along. She pointed out that it would be an opportunity for him, however
low-key, to apply his style to a new type of subject. She mentioned, in
passing, that there’d be many interesting people at the book launch she could
introduce him to. Who knew where the collaboration might lead?
When he finally allowed that sure, he’d be able to help
her out, it wasn’t a surprise to either of them. Nonetheless, her warm response
was such a relief, it was as if some subtle but resonant frequency of her being
was suddenly unblocked to him.
“Stephan! That is so wonderful – I’m really, really
grateful.”
A few minutes later, after she’d
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