My New Muse (Mild Wattpad Version) (Completed) [SLOWLY BEING EDITED]

3. Truce

"Who the fuck is that?"

This comes from Rochester as he watches Shemarré, a man with perhaps the most ridiculous and pretentious name that I have ever heard, walk towards where I am currently standing, surrounded by his family members.

"Another photographer," I say as nonchalantly as I can.

He chuckles deep in his throat.

"Ms Anderson, did I say that I wanted anyone else to come to this... gathering?"

I have to hold back my chuckle, because I can hear the anger in his voice. This man does not like to be overruled. He enjoys getting his own way.

Well, so do I.

"David," I say, emphasising his first name just to piss him off, "you gave me a job, and I'm simply doing it. If you have certain... quirks, you should have had the decency to sit down and discuss them with me, rather than bulldozing me with demands the way you did."

I walk off, and leave Rochester with his jaw ticking and his hand shaking around his glass. I keep walking until I'm face to face with Martin.

"Hello, Leah," he says, shaking my hand with poorly concealed enthusiasm.

"Shemarré Martin. It's a pleasure to meet you."

His smile broadens. "Please. Call me Shem."

***

As I circle the family reunion several times, taking photographs, Shem passed on whatever he felt necessary to me.

"Stay in the background. Make them forget you're even there."

"Candids are always better; they speak the truth."

"At events like these, the ratio of candids to posed photographs should be approximately ten to one. That should be your aim."

Now, everyone is packing up, and Shem has to leave for his daughter's cello recital.

"Um... Shem?" I say, unsure of how to phrase the question that I want to ask.

"Yes?"

"Um... Why?"

He looks at me as if I'm stupid for a few seconds.

"Huh?"

"Why did you do it? Help me? You're so busy, but you went out of your wa—"

"I saw one of your photographs at a show two years ago. It was called 'Wheels'; a photograph of two children, playing in a meadow. One on a bicycle—"

"—and one in a wheelchair,"  I finish.

"Yes," he says with a smile. "They looked so... happy. I loved how... it was just not what you would expect. Wheelchairs and joy... And I knew that I had to meet you. So when your agent called..."

He shrugs, and then looks at his watch.

"Shit! Kelly—"

"Go," I say, as he walk-runs to his car, in a desperate attempt to not miss his child's recital.

I let out a shaky breath, all too aware that David Rochester has been stabbing me with his eyeballs for the past five hours, and I now have no one to protect me.

***

Since Shem, drove off approximately three minutes ago, David has been giving me this "you're mine now" look, with a fucking smirk, which, if I'm going to be honest, is starting to creep me the fuck out.