Marcie, the makeup artist, sets him down in her chair and starts talking to him, so I have a few minutes to prepare myself. I take an elastic band from my pants pocket and pull my hair off my face. An excitement fills me. Sure, because I’m getting to shoot Shawn Cannon, but also because this is my favorite part of the job… actually taking pictures.
“Let’s go. Everyone take your places,” Troy hollers to the room. My usually professional coworkers are now fumbling and flirting with Shawn and I can tell that Troy is losing his patience with his team. He finally sends them across the room and both of them look like they just lost their puppy. I try to keep the smirk off my face, but it’s hard to do. I know they had been looking forward to this shoot for a while now.
Now, I’m not only doing my job, I’m doing theirs too. Shrugging my shoulders, I move the lights around a little before I go over and grab a camera. Usually, once everything is set up, Troy lets me take some photos too. He’s even been known to use a few of them, and I have to admit, it’s the best feeling ever. I love being behind the camera. Plus, I know there’s not a snowflake’s chance in hell that Shawn would even notice me enough to even give me an autograph, so I don’t give in to the attraction that I feel. I’m determined to keep my wits about me and not screw this up.
2
Shawn
I’m here because I don’t have a choice. My agent said I needed to do this. Yeah, it’s the sexiest bachelor, but also all the money goes to a feed the children charity so I know I’d be an ass to turn it down. I offered to just make a donation, but that didn’t go over well.
This whole nonsense has had me on edge and is messing with my game. Ever since the announcement naming the sexiest bachelors, I’ve never had so many women fall all over me and themselves. I’ve had plenty of attention from females and while I’m not against it, I’ve grown tired of the type of women my fame and reputation attract.
Two women come over to me, pushing photographs of me in my face, wanting autographs. I sign them and begin to wonder how I’m going to get rid of them when the man that introduced himself as the photographer orders them away from me. I’ve never been more uncomfortable in my life. I’m surrounded by women with hardly any clothes on. They tried to put baby oil on me in the back but I refused. Right now, I’m cussing my agent wondering what the hell he got me into.
Troy signals a woman with red hair to turn on his “genius music,” then he comes toward me to pose me for the shoot. A techno beat fills the air just as the women in bikinis start to crown around me. My agent told me to come, smile and it will be over. But the more I think about it, the more I can’t do this.
“Hold up, Troy.”
He looks shocked by the disruption, but I don’t have a choice, I have to say something. He eyes me warily before he walks over to me. “Yes?”
“Look, I get what you’re doing here, but I’m not really thinking this is the look I’m going for,” I tell him honestly.
His face turns red and I can already tell that he is not the type that takes kindly to being questioned on his craft. I know I wouldn’t like him to come and tell me how to hit, so I get it. But I also know that this is not the image I want to put out there. He just stares at me blankly, so I continue.
“Look, for anybody else this would be great. Not me though. I run sports camps for kids in my off time. I have a lot of kids that look up to me. This,” I say, gesturing to the women showing more skin than you would see at the beach, “is just not right.”
The longer I talk the more he looks like his head is going to explode. I’m at least a foot taller than him and probably seventy pounds heavier, but I don’t think he cares. He opens his mouth, but before he can get a word out, I hear, “He’s right.”
Troy and I both turn our heads to look at the woman behind the voice. It’s the redhead that he had turn on the music. Except now, she’s facing me and as I look at her flushed face, I can’t help but appreciate how beautiful she is.
“What do you mean, he’s right?” Troy asks her.
She’s nervous. I can tell that right from the start. She starts off softly, but the more she says, the more confident she becomes. “I, uh, think that Mr. Cannon is correct. I know it’s for the sexiest bachelor, but we had the pop singer last week with all the women and I thought you would want to try something different this time. After researching, uh Mr. Cannon”—she smiles at me and then looks back at what I’m assuming is her boss—“I think if we could just get him maybe into something else, he could do the shoot on his own.”