The Memories We Made

Ch. 2

His eyes glint, like he knows I'm uncomfortable, but he's too amused to say anything, "So, my intern has told me that you want to be a Blue Photographer?"

Without a trace of hesitance, I answer, "Of course. It's been my dream to be a photographer since I was 9." 

Mr. Wells only smiles, leaning back in his chair before he answers, "So? Let's take a look at your portfolio." He glances over at his watch.

I blink.

"A... portfolio?" I stutter, at a loss for words. He didn't say anything about a portfolio!

He looks up from his watch, a flicker of annoyance breaking through his facade of amusement and kindness, "Ms. Ulysses, you do know that we take care to hire photographers that are talented, now don't you? We don't simply hire them because they tell us they're good."

He spreads his arms wide, "For all I know, you may have been dreaming of being a photographer since you were 9 but you still have no talent."he shrugs, a nonchalant expression of not my problem.

 The room seems to tilt a bit as I look at him, my eyes full of steely determination.

"I. Am. A. Good. Photographer." I say coolly as I get up, "You had not told me when I made the appointment, that I had to bring a portfolio."

He rolls his eyes, dropping his facade, "Ms, do understand that I am not your personal secretary, you should've known that, " he grins wolfishly, "After all, any good photographer would."

Gritting my teeth, I go, "Why, you son of- " I'm cut off as someone puts their hand over my shoulder.

I turn around in the uncomfortable chair to see that 2 men in cadet gray suits, a badge on the lapel of it reading, "BP Security", stand behind me,looking at me stonily behind their black shades even though we're inside.

 Mr. Wells goes on, "Do hold your tongue Ms. Ulysses, I don't take too kindly to people who speak ill of me."

Turning around, I glare at him as they discreetly lifted me up from the chair. Half relieved about being out of the butt killing chair and half mad at their actions, I swat their hands away as I pick myself up.

"It is not like kindness has been a constant companion to me in Blue Photography either, Mr. Wells." I snap back, a snark in my voice as I glare icily at him, clutching the small package Angela had given to me that morning in my arms.

That morning feels like years ago compared to this nightmare.

I'm practically flinging insults at the man I had looked up to so much and on top of that, I'm gonna be taken by security.

Mr. Wells sighs and leans back in his chair, "Fine." he says.

I blink.

"Fine?" I echo, wonder lacing my words as he waves security away, their grip on my shoulder gone as the door clicks, indicating that they have left.

"I'll give you a month to make a portfolio. That'll be enough time to get a model and a bucket load of portfolio material." He says, his face stony as he leans back in his gray chair, probably more comfortable than the one I'd been sitting in 10 minutes ago.

"You have guts, I'll give you that. Not very many photographers put up such a fight, better yet insult me." He muses, his gray eyes flickering with new found amusement, from what, I don't know.

I glare at him, standing as he holds a calloused palm out, a tan line peeking out from under his chalk gray suit.

Shaking it, I can't help but feel like I'm making a deal with the devil.