Broken Promises and Ripped Dresses

Three Hours of Photos

Chapter 15. Three Hours of Photos

 

"So what do I do? Just stand there and strut my stuff?" I asked any of the five photographers as they set up for the photo shoot.

"Pretty much, just find your inner model," a man answered, smiling at me. He was holding a beautiful Nikon camera with an eighty-five millimeter lens.

Yes, I call cameras beautiful. When you love photography as much as I do, an expensive and high quality camera is something you admire.

At the moment I was wearing an a-line wedding gown that was tight around my bodice and flared out from my waist with a long train. A thin layer of lace covered the whole thing from top to bottom, and it had a dipped neckline. Underneath it I had black pumps, which didn't make much sense to me because you can't see them; and I magically turn into a klutz when I put on heels. I guess they were there just to make me taller. All in all, a very pretty dress, but not one I'd buy for my wedding.

One of Augusto's helpers, Lydia, had helped me put the outfit on, and put some light makeup on my face. She had decided to straighten my hair and let it stay down for the pictures.

Andrew was leaning against the wall behind the camera equipment, grinning from ear to ear. He was totally enjoying my misery of having to stand up here and force a smile for the camera. He caught me looking and gave me two thumbs up, so I stuck my tongue out at him in response.

"Oh Angela," Augusto said, walking into the room and inspecting me. "You look fabulous in that dress."

"Yes, she does," Andrew added in quietly from behind.

I blushed and shyly looked down at the floor. "It's just the dress doing the work for me. It really is a beautiful one Augusto."

"Don't be so modest!" Augusto exclaimed. "You look fantastic, absolutely fantastic."

"Can we just get this over with before I die of embarrassment?" I asked, trying to change the subject to anything but me being beautiful.

"Yes, of course. I don't want to keep you two from your adventure in Rome," Augusto answered. He walked over to his group of photographers. "Are you all ready?"

"Yes sir," the one holding the Nikon said, "Let's get this started."

"All right! Angela, you just stand up on that platform!" Augusto sang. "Here, Lydia help her get up there."

Lydia had wavy black hair, and came up to me smiling sweetly, taking my hand. She helped me hike up the dress a bit, and step onto the white platform I was supposed to model on. "Thanks," I mumbled, standing up straight as I settle on the platform.

"Welcome madam," she said kindly, and she walked away to the camera setup.

Madam? Don't think I've ever been called that before. Or ever want to be again.

For a while I just awkwardly stood there as everyone stared up at me expectantly. No one was moving, just staring. I finally realized that I was supposed to start doing the whole modeling thing. Andrew was cracking up in the back.