“Are we staging a boudoir set or a murder scene?”
She laughs. “Bold sexuality is in. I really think this could be a big moneymaker. In fact, we’ve gotten requests through the website for something more dramatic. We have to adapt to the market, Finn.” Lennox grimaces. “Business is not…great.”
She’s right again. Photography is an ebb-and-flow business. Everyone with the newest iPhone these days can take professional-looking photographs, so you have to bring more value to the table than pictures. I try to help women love their bodies and appreciate their unique beauty. No matter what size, color, or shape—every single woman is beautiful. They have to look at themselves through the right lens. Somehow through my noble plight, I also have to find a way to pay the bills. Lately, it’s been getting more difficult to find clients.
“You’re a woman…explain this to me.”
Lennox follows as I make my way into my front living room and pull a pair of fuzzy black handcuffs from a plastic shopping bag.
“Why is bondage sexy? I want to help build confidence, not tie up women and put them on display like roast chickens.”
Lennox squints one eye at me. “I think we can be more tasteful than roast chickens.” Furrowing my brows, I return a skeptical look, so she continues, “I’m not suggesting we go dark dungeon or anything like that, but we can just tease the idea. We’ll have edgier costumes but have them wear their hair in soft waves. We’ll do the entire shoot in a moody black and white, but they can smile in some pictures. It’ll be very floral but dark colors. Handcuffs—”
“But fuzzy,” I finish for her.
“Exactly.” Lennox pops her shoulders like she’s pleased with herself. She really has an eye for stage design. One day, she is going to move to Hollywood and become an acclaimed set director. I’m sure of it. For now, I’m grateful to have her help. I take great pictures, my editing is unrivaled, but without the set, I’m a fish in a barrel. I need Lennox.
“You really think it’ll bring in more business?”
She widens her eyes and nods slowly. “At this point, we have to try anything. It’s either edgy or topless clowns.”
“What?”
“Don’t ask.” She shoots me a wink, but her smile is less than innocent. I don’t want to know what websites Lennox visits. My cousin is not shy about her quirky taste…let’s leave it at that.
“So the idea is bold but feminine,” I muse.
“Right.” She nods as she points to my forehead. “That’s what we should call it. Boldly feminine. Give me a week or so to build the set, then why don’t we do a test run? We can offer a free photo shoot to someone and put new pictures up on the website. Let’s just see who bites. If it’s a bust, we’ll go back to the drawing board.” She looks around the room. “We’ve got to try something, Finn…our calendar is pretty much empty. I don’t think it’s the service. It’s a good time to be in boudoir. It’s just no one knows we exist and it’s a tough business for word-of-mouth marketing.”
I nod in agreement. “And I basically have no budget for paid marketing.”
“Right—so anything that can capture people’s attention…”
“Okay, I’m sold. No harm in trying it out.” I smile at her. “Good work, Lennox.”
She crosses her legs and bows. “Lovely. Now go take a shower. You stink.”
“Roger that.” I finish off my water, then turn toward my bedroom.
“Hey, by the way, do you want to go out tonight? There’s a foam party at Ultimate. Invite only. I hung out with the bouncer last week and he gave me an extra ticket. There’s going to be a surprise celebrity DJ—rumor is it’s Khalid.”
“A foam party on the Vegas Strip? That sounds like a lot of drunk, wet women running around.”
Lennox taps her nose twice. “Exactly. Have some fun. All you’ve been doing for months is working and”—she points to my knees—“running. It’s been a year. When are you going to be done being sad?”
“I’m not sad.” I don’t think the look I’m giving her is convincing because Lennox puckers her bottom lip.
“I don’t believe you. I’m proud of you. But I don’t believe you. Look, Finn…Nora was—”
I hold up my hand to interrupt her. “I’m okay. But thank you, little cousin.” I close the space between us and drape my arm around her shoulders, pulling her into a sweaty hug.
“Gross,” she complains.
“You’re sweet to worry about me. But don’t. Have fun at your foam party.” I release her.
“What are you going to do tonight?”
On cue, my muscles start to ache and tense. I pushed it a little too much today. I could use some relief. “I’ll probably just bring Dex a six-pack of beer and sneak into his hot tub.”
Dex never uses his in-ground hot tub. Leah, his girlfriend, does very rarely. If it were portable, I’d just buy it from him and move it to my patio. Instead, we put in a gate between our yards so I am free to access his tub whenever I like. In exchange, I bring him beer and pay for the monthly maintenance. I could not have asked for a better neighbor. Not to mention he’s richer than God, so the neighborhood barbeques he hosts are top-tier. Who buys ribeye steaks for an entire block of people?
“Want me to stay in? Keep you company?”
“Uh, no. The only thing sadder than staying in on a Saturday night to hot tub alone is staying in on a Saturday night to hot tub with your cousin.”
Lennox snorts in laughter and bobs her head in agreement.
“Just call me if you need a ride home and please be smart. I don’t want to have to rescue you and kick someone’s ass.”
She salutes me. “All right. Oh, and hey, ask Dex which wet suit he’s packing for Cozumel. I think he said a shortie, but I run cold, so I think I’m going to bring my long-sleeved one.”
I forgot Lennox is taking a week off next month to go on a dive trip he’s leading. She, Dex, and Leah instantly bonded over their love of scuba.
“Can’t you text him?”
“He’s so damn flaky and disorganized with his phone. Great dive instructor, but I don’t know how his business isn’t in flames.”
“All right, I’ll try to remember,” I say as I head down the hallway. I tap my temple firmly like I can push a reminder right through the side of my head. That’s two things I need to ask Dex now. Lennox’s wet suit…
And who the hell is the pretty brunette who stopped by his place.
5
Avery
“Dibs,” Palmer says as she drops her purse on Dex’s marble kitchen counter. “And holy shit, this place is amazing.” Her face twists into a wicked smile. “How serious are Dex and his girlfriend?”
I flatten a stare at her. “Soul mates, ride or die, Bonnie and Clyde serious. Don’t even think about—”
“Jesus,” she grumbles as she spins in place, looking up, taking in the high ceilings and exposed beams. “I’m kidding obviously.”
“Homewrecking,” I mutter under my breath. “Hilarious.”