reflector. And that was just today. The closest I had been to a camera all week was when Ess accidentally hit me in the arse with his while I was underneath a desk, plugging in the MacBook. This was not the hands-on training I’d been hoping for.
‘Jess, I need it higher. For Christ’s sake, woman!’
I closed my eyes, prayed to whoever would listen that I wouldn’t be spending Christmas with a broken leg to go with my bruised bum and pressed up onto my tiptoes, swaying back and forth.
‘Sorry,’ I said through gritted teeth. ‘Is this better?’
‘Not really. Doesn’t help that you’re waving it around like a fucking flag,’ he replied, snatching the camera away from his face and throwing it at his first assistant, a small, scared-looking bleached blond boy called 7. Not the word seven, the number seven. He had been quite clear about that. Never the word, always the number, he’d said defensively. ‘It’s supposed to be still. You’re supposed to reflect light. Do you even know how to stand still, Jess?’
‘Nope,’ I whispered before pasting on my brightest smile and holding my breath. ‘Any good?’
‘No. Get down and we’ll find something for you to do that isn’t as taxing as standing still,’ Ess said. He scratched his muttonchops and leered at my backside as I clambered off the stool he had balanced on the chair that stood on top of a suitcase. He did not offer to help. ‘Veronica said you were going to be good at this.’
It was delivered as a statement, no obvious question, no definitive inflection.
‘That’s nice,’ I said, tiptoeing across the all-white studio set-up. ‘And not at all like her.’
‘You doing her?’ he asked.
‘Sorry?’ I blinked.
‘Shagging her?’ he said.
‘No,’ I replied, shaking my head. ‘I don’t think so. Is she gay?’
‘She’s never tried it on with me,’ he said, shrugging as though that was an answer. ‘If you were good, you’d be able to hold up a reflector properly.’
He signalled for me to stand on the T-shaped mark 7 had created on the floor with duct tape. ‘Veronica isn’t usually wrong about people. You sure you’re not shagging her?’
‘I’m definitely not,’ I said, pulling the elastic from around my ponytail and securing as much of my curly copper hair as I could. ‘And I’m sorry if I’m not getting everything right straight away. I’ve never actually assisted before. I’ll get it, though, I promise. I’m sorry.’
It was as though I had apologetic Tourette’s. I couldn’t stop saying I was sorry even though an apology was not owed and unlikely to ever be deserved.
‘Oh, so you’re one of them,’ Ess said, eyes narrowing as a tight smile took over his bristly face. ‘You think you’re a real photographer so you’re too good to dirty your hands assisting me.’
‘Not at all,’ I replied quickly. ‘I mean, I am a real photographer but I don’t think I’m too good to assist you.’
I did though. I thought I was far too good but since no one had hired me to be a ‘real’ photographer for nearly three months, I didn’t have a lot of choice. It turned out that lucking into two jobs, no matter how brilliant they might have been, did not a career in photography make.
‘Yeah? You got lots of nice pictures of your dinner on Instagram, have you?’ he asked while 7 tittered in the background. ‘Maybe the odd cat? Few nice duckface selfies?’
‘No,’ I replied, tossing my head like an indignant pony. ‘I mean, yes, obviously, but not just that. I shot Bertie Bennett for Gloss magazine and I worked with him on the book he’s writing.’
‘Never heard of him.’ Ess dismissed my job of a lifetime without a second thought. ‘Gloss’ll be closed inside six months, mark my words. All those gash mags are going under.’
Apparently the look of horror on my face didn’t faze him one little bit.
‘Gash mags?’
‘Mags,’ he nodded, making a chopping motion with each word. ‘For gash.’
‘I’m not following,’ I replied. ‘Sorry.’
‘You,’ he pointed at me with a thick, unappealing finger, ‘are gash. Mags for you. Gash mags.’
Agent Veronica had warned me not to mess up this job. Those weren’t her exact words because Agent Veronica loved to swear like most people loved to breathe, so the whole exchange had been a lot more colourful than that but when she told me not to mess up, I just thought she was warning me not to be late or break anything. Dropping a camera seemed as though it would be considerably less damaging to my career than sprinting across the room and stabbing Ess through the heart with a biro.
‘Jess, are you with us?’ Ess snapped his fingers in front of my face and pointed at the mark on the floor. ‘I need to check lighting on this shot. You’re tall, well done. Get down on your hands and knees so I can see where to position the daft model tart when she finally shows up.’
Taking a short, sharp breath in, I reminded myself of how important this job was, of how much I wanted to get somewhere in my career. How this was all vital experience for my very light CV. Besides, what else was I going to do with my Saturday? I only had three episodes of Game of Thrones to watch and then I was completely caught up. After that, I was going to have to put myself into a medically induced coma until the new season started if I didn’t find something else to do.
‘Shall I just stay here?’ I asked, kneeling down and holding a hand over my eyes as 7 turned on the blinding studio lights, all aimed directly at my face. ‘Is this good?’
‘Look up at me,’ Ess directed, looking through his camera and edging closer to me. ‘Look right into the camera.’
‘I can’t really see it for the lights,’ I replied, blinking. ‘Am I looking at you? Can you see me?’
‘I can see you just fine, Jess,’ he said. ‘Now bend your elbows down a bit and look up. And stick your arse in the air.’
When Agent Veronica told me I was going to have to start at the bottom, I didn’t realize that meant I would have to start with my actual backside. Reluctantly, I did as I was told. Making my arse centre of attention went against everything that I was, I was worried that if I kept it up there any longer, planets would be drawn into its orbit.
‘God, it’s not easy, is it?’ I said. My arms were already shaking with the effort of holding the pose and the air conditioning whipped around the exposed strip of skin between my shirt and my jeans. Hello builder’s bum, farewell dignity.
‘Now open your mouth,’ Ess said, coming ever closer. ‘And stop blinking, look right at the camera like you want to suck it.’
I jolted backwards, backside crashing to the ground. ‘Excuse me?’
‘Oh, for Christ’s sake, can’t you be professional for one minute?’ He turned on his heel and threw the camera at a waiting 7. ‘I asked you to hold
