Hot Shots [h.s.]

08

December 28th

Cold, sunny. Today's the day. I'm nervous, but also a tiny bit excited.

I spent the morning preparing. My press pass and invitation had come in an envelope the day before with the information I would need on the event and the people that needed to be photographed. I was pleasantly surprised to find out the 'rising star' Charles was sending me out with was Peyton, an old friend from the finance camp I had met Wes at.

Apparently, after following a path similar to mine, she attended business school and was now on track to become one of Charles' junior partners. So, my purpose for the evening was to blend in, not draw attention to myself, and obtain photos of Peyton with the people she mingled with.

Finding something to wear was easier than I expected it to be. I had stumbled across a brown satin pantsuit at one of the vintage shops in town and had it tailored to fit me. Mrs. Turner, one of our regulars at the bakery just so happened to be a seamstress and she was more than happy to trade a few pies for her services.

I had some peculiar requests on the suit, chalking it up to being able to conceal my camera equipment. I explained that I needed extra pockets lining the inside of the jacket, along with arm holes a bit larger than my measurements to conceal my shoulder holster. She tried to protest me when I told her I wanted the jacket to remain a bit longer than she suggested, only to try to semi-hide the cameras that would be dangling near my hips. It was a formal event after all.

She said that she would be taking in fabric around the backside of the pants to "accentuate the gift" god had given me, and she expected me to wear heels because "Tall girls are charming, especially when they tower over the gentleman in the room."

Knowing that the car was scheduled to pick me up in fifteen minutes, I swept my hair back in to a neat bun and opted for simple makeup.

The cream colored satin shirt I chose to wear was tight fitted and soft, I took extra care to tuck it into my slacks without causing any bunching. My fingers deftly buttoned the shirt up halfway, barely covering my bra and leaving the majority of my chest exposed.

I reached over to grab the shoulder holster and slid it on, fastening the straps securely before shrugging on the jacket. It fit perfectly.

Now to weigh myself down.

I strapped two camera bodies, along with their respective lenses onto the clips dangling by leather straps. The cameras hung exactly where they were supposed to, just slightly exposed under the hem of my jacket. I grabbed a few extra batteries and SD cards, sliding them into one of my interior pockets.

Next came a tube of lipstick and my small knife, which was also tucked neatly into their respective pockets.

A slight groan escaped my lips as the cameras attached to me swung forward when I bent over to attach another holster onto my ankle. That's one of the downsides to not carrying a bag, the camera swing was enough to drive anyone crazy.

Sliding a larger knife and an extra magazine into the holster, I stood up and grabbed the gun on my dresser and tucked it into the small leather case pressed against my ribs.

See, the real reason I opted to carry my cameras with a shoulder holster was to conceal my little Hellcat pistol. It's the perfect excuse to have a buttoned up jacket and while security would usually search a camera bag, there's a significantly lower chance for them to ask me to take my jacket off.

My heels clicked on the floor as I made my way into the living room, turning a little spin in front of my parents who had been sitting on the couch watching television.