Mr. Hamilton,” the crew
greeted him respectfully. He glanced at me,
then addressed the studio manager. “How’s
the shoot going?” “Pretty good. She has great
posture, as you’d expect from a flight
attendant, but she’s a little tense. She’d look
even better if she could loosen up.” The
photographer showed him some shots. “A
little more relaxed, and it would be perfect.”
He gestured for the shoot to continue. İ
thought he would leave, but he stayed,
observing for several more sets. “Ms. Lane,
you were more relaxed at the beginning,” the
photographer said, lowering his camera. He
meant the later photos weren’t as good as
the first ones. “Click.” Mark signaled to stop.
“Take a break, and we’ll try again.” My tense
muscles finally relaxed. “Get her some water,”
he instructed. He took the camera and
reviewed the photos. “Ms. Lane, have some
water,” the makeup artist said, touching up
<
my makeup and offering encouragement.
“Just pretend it’s a regular photo shoot. No
need to be nervous. You have amazing
features. You look beautiful just standing
there. But the photographer’s right, you can
do even better. You got this!” “Thanks,” I
murmured, glancing at Mark reviewing the
photos. He looked up, our eyes meeting
briefly. I quickly looked away and sipped my
water. To my surprise, he walked over,
camera in hand, and leaned against the
makeup counter. “Don’t be nervous. The
photos are good,” he said, his voice
surprisingly gentle. I nodded, humming in
response. He glanced at the makeup artist.
“Don’t go too heavy,” he said. “She looks
better with lighter makeup.” He turned and
walked away, leaving a ripple of surprise in
his wake. The crew exchanged glances. Once
my makeup was retouched, I returned to the
set. A few more clicks, and another halt. My
palms were sweating. I still wasn’t achieving
the desired look. Mark walked over and
placed his hand gently on my shoulder. “Close
your eyes. Take a deep breath.” I stared at
him, bewildered. He held my gaze. I closed my
eyes and inhaled deeply. “Don’t open them
until you’re completely relaxed,” he instructed.
“Imagine everyone here is an animal. A rabbit,
a tiger, a cat…” I did as he said. The makeup
artist was a rabbit, the stylist a goat, the
photographer a monkey, and Mark… a sleek,
watchful lion. He removed his hand, and I
opened my eyes, feeling much more relaxed.
He stepped back. “Mr. Hamilton, why don’t
you take over?” the photographer offered,
handing him the camera. He accepted.
Surprisingly, I felt no anxiety with him behind
the lens. I overheard someone mention he had
won a photography award. The rest of the
shoot went smoothly. Individual shots, props,
scenario demonstrations – I sailed through
them. “That’s a wrap, Ms. Lane! Great work,”
the photographer announced. “Thank you,
and you too,” I replied. “It’s getting chilly. Put
this on.” Chris appeared, draping his jacket
over my shoulders. “When did you get here?” I
asked, surprised. “A little while ago. Flew in
and came straight here after landing.” “I was
standing right here, and you didn’t even
notice? Heartless,” he teased, playfully
booping my nose. I swatted his hand away. “I
was focused!““Wait for me. I just need to
pack up.” I returned to the makeup counter
and gathered my belongings. Mark was still
reviewing photos at the workstation. “Dinner’s
on me, everyone. Long day,” Chris
announced. As I reached him, he took my
hand and whispered, “You round everyone up,
and I’ll treat.”
