me & tomfoolery: short stories

COSTAR | A Cornell Young IV Short Story Pt. 2

Picture Perfect

Maryn had spent enough time in theater to understand that being told to hold a pose was rarely as simple as it sounded.

She'd held arabesques in uncomfortable shoes, maintained smiles through lengthy curtain calls, and once spent nearly four minutes pretending to be a statue during a particularly ambitious regional production.

But none of that prepared her for standing in front of a photographer while someone repeatedly asked her to look less like she was having her picture taken.

"Okay, Maryn. Beautiful. Now relax your shoulders."

She relaxed them.

"A little more."

She tried again.

"Perfect. Now give me something a little more effortless."

Maryn blinked.

Effortless.

Sure, right.

She was wearing a structured ivory dress that required two people to zip, a pair of heels that were beginning to feel like a personal attack, and enough jewelry to make her afraid of moving too quickly.

But still, effortless.

"Like that?" she asked.

The photographer lowered his camera.

"Actually, yes."

Maryn laughed, "Great. Because I don't know what I did."

"That's the magic."

From somewhere behind the monitor, Cornell snorted.

Maryn turned her head, "Something funny?"

He raised both hands, "I'm not even here."

"You're literally sitting right there."
"Emotionally, I'm somewhere else."

"Go be somewhere else physically then"

The photographer laughed.

"Hold that! Maryn, look back at me."

She turned, the camera clicked several times.

"Beautiful. That's it."

Cornell leaned back in his chair, "You're welcome."

Maryn rolled her eyes. His smirk would be something that with anyone else, she would want to smack. It was barely eleven in the morning. And he'd already found three separate opportunities to irritate her.

•••

The Hollywood Reporter had reserved a photography studio in West Hollywood for the day. The cast of The Summer We Stayed would be featured in a digital cover story introducing the show's young ensemble ahead of its premiere.

For Maryn, the opportunity still felt slightly unreal. She'd been photographed for theater programs, production announcements, and promotional materials before. She'd even appeared in a few Broadway-related publications, usually somewhere in a group photograph beneath a headline celebrating a production rather than its individual performers.

But this was different. Her name would be in the article, her face would be in the photographs. And someone had spent the better part of an hour discussing which designer she should wear. That last part was particularly strange.

"Maryn!"

She looked toward the styling area.

Destiny emerged wearing a pale blue dress with a dramatic neckline and silver accessories.