Chapter Text
|-Tuesday morning. Apollo's Bagels, 7th Avenue, Manhattan, New York-|
'Yeah, but what does that have to do with my current situation, Met?' He’s so smug, even when
texting.
'You know exactly what I'm talkin about.'
I huff. No, I do not know what he is talking about. Why do I bother talking to him about these things?
He always manages to make light of them. Not that I necessarily view that as a bad thing. Met's always been able to get me laughing even in the worst of circumstances. We don't talk about my
disastrous second girlfriend but I'll be damned if Met didn't know how to cheer me up.
'No. I don't think I do.' I’m not that observant. How does he not understand?
'You need to start payin more attention.'
'More like you need to stop being so god damn cryptic.'
Three dots appear on my phone screen as he starts with his reply. And then they disappear. Then reappear. Then disappear again. Seems I've struck a nerve. I look up from my little black box for a moment, taking in the sights and sounds. I can see WTC 1 from here if I look south, it's distinctive glass paneling acting as a focusing lens for the sunlight if you get them at the right angle. I wonder if it can cook meat if you angle it right. If I look a bit northeast, I can see the most famous building in the entire city. The view from the top of Empire State is utterly breathtaking. Too bad I'm horrifically acrophobic. Otherwise I'd be up there every day of the year. I then feel my phone hum, so I look down.
'Touchée.' Is that… Met taking the hint?
'Admit you've been beaten.'
'Never!' Damnit. I swear, he knows which buttons to push in order to raise my blood pressure.
'You test me, you know that?'
'I tend to do that with my friends, yes.'
'Bullshit. I've never seen you do this with Mark or Jessica.' I’ve never seen it. It’s always done with
me.
'It's because you're the easier target. Far better reactions.'
'You're such an asshole.' Even before the surgeries, he was like this.
'In that charmin way only we New Yorkers can pull off.'
That comment gets a chuckle out of me since he does have a point. I then watch as the three dots imply he's typing out another message.
'Any-who, don't you have a new client to meet tonight?'
Oh right, that... A year-long contract... With one of Japan's most in demand models. And an uma at that. This is... uncharted territory to say the least. I've never worked with anyone with that high of a profile.
'It's not until tomorrow. Maybe tonight if I get lucky. Even then, I don't know if I'll meet her in person.' That’s usually how this goes. At least in my experience.
'That's kinda dumb. Like, really fuckin dumb.'
'Well, she's a real famous model coming from Japan and is probably dealing with jet lag. Needs some time to recuperate and whatnot.'
A long pause. Too long for it to be a regular response. Seems I've stunned Met. Not the first time I’ve done something like that.
'GOLD CITY?! IS THAT WHO THIS NEW CLIENT IS?! Bestie is movin up in the world.'
Ah, jumping to conclusions immediately. Classic Met move.
'I don't know. All I know is that she's on top of the Japanese market.' Really, that is all I know. But it seems Met has a response to that as well.
'Yeah. That would be Gold City, Kati.'
'You sound overconfident.'
'Oh please.'
'You're a photographer. You're the one who should be payin attention to these kinds of things. Not
some dirty Motörheader like me.'
I huff again. This man is impossible.
|-Later that night. Noonan Towers, 929 Woodycrest Avenue, the Bronx-|
I thought about hitting a club. Seeing how many women I could potentially hook up with. Decided against it. I don't need my insecurities biting at my heels. Lonely as I may be, I do know that wasn't gonna be a good idea. Not in my current state. Already ate, took care of dishes I had been putting off for a few days. I look through some of the recent shoots I've done. They're not bad. But they could be better. Maybe this new contract could be better. That's when I hear my phone go off. Not a text message. No, a call. Met? We already talked today. What could he want now? I walk over to the little coffee table I have to pick the device up and... Well the caller ID doesn't have his name at the top. So it's not Met. So why is my gut telling me to answer this call? This is important. Very important. So I hit the green button on the screen and place the little black box next to my ear.
"Uh... Hello.?"
"Hi. Is this Kati Jacobs?" It’s a man. Probably early thirties if I’m to guess his age.
"I am she, yes."
"Alright, good. I matched the right number to the right person. My name is Randy Jenkins. I'm a modeling manager here in New York."
Randy Jenkins? That name sounds familiar. Some new hot shot modeling agent. Has specialized with foreigners for the past five years.
"Am I correct in assuming this is about my new client, Mr. Jenkins?" Not a bad thing for me to ask, given the circumstances.
"That would be correct."
Seems the gut was right. I should stop doubting it. It's almost always right.
"Think you can handle being someone's main photographer for a whole year?" That’s a loaded question he’s just asked. One I've given a lot of thought. Maybe too much. But I have come to some +kind of conclusion.
"I'm going to see this through. See how honed my skills actually are." I respond, wanting things to go smoothly.
"Just what I was hoping to hear. Not that I'd judge you for getting cold feet and declining. This is bold new ground for you, I'm certain."
"More than you know."
I can hear the smug laugh. But I also know it isn't from malice.
"I wanted some new blood to work with this model. Thought it would be good bonding for the two of you." Bonding, he says.
"Go on..."
"You've got quite the portfolio, Ms. Jacobs. A... unique perspective let's just say. Showed some of your shots to my new client. Or rather, she showed them to me."
Here we go. The increase in heart rate. The slow formation of sweat on my brow. Nerves flaring.
"She likes them. A lot. You were the top choice the second she got here. And she wants to meet you on Friday." Friday? As in this Friday? Okay, breath Kati.
"On Friday? Didn't she just fly in from Japan? Isn't jet lag still a thing at this point?" Jet lag should definitely still be a thing right now. Now way she’s adjusted to the change in time this fast.
"She's already been in the city for a week. She's more than adjusted."
He gives me some time to process this information. She's already been in New York for a week? Why do people always leave me in the dark for things like this?
"So... Friday?" I ask tentatively.
"Yes. This Friday. In the afternoon. Think you can make it?"
I pause for another moment before I give my answer.
"Yes."
"Good. See you then. And one more thing."
"Yeah?" Unsolicited advice? Or something prophetic?
"Don't look a gift horse in the mouth."
|-Friday afternoon. Budapest Cafe, 2nd Avenue, Manhattan-|
I've never been this nervous before. Graduation? No. First date? Tip of the iceberg. First time in bed with Rose after prom? Child's play. I keep thinking about what Met said on Tuesday. Gold City... No. No way in hell that it's her. That would be utterly ridiculous. Why on Earth would she want to work with someone who, as Met puts it, is well versed in the underground. Him and all that metal lingo he uses. I don't think I'll ever fully understand it. The thoughts keep going through my head as I continue towards the meeting place. The Budapest Cafe on 2nd Avenue in Yorkville. Ápa used to take me and anya here every Saturday when he had the chance. I still remember those long metro rides from the Bronx down to Grand Central to avoid traffic after we drove in from Yonkers. Then the buses onto the east side of the island. I get into the cafe and sit down, a waiter gives me a menu, but not before recognizing me.
"Á, Kati. Rég láttalak. (Ah, Kati. Long time no see.)" He says with a slight smile on his face.
"Szia, György. Hogy ityeg? (Hey, George. How's it hanging?)" A simple response. Nothing to fancy from me.
"Ahogy csak tudok. És mi van önökkel? (Doing as well as I can. What about you?)"
"Én is ezt mondhatom. (I can say the same.)"
He hands me the menu without anymore words. As much as I'd like to chat with György, he does have a job to do. Can't blame him for that. I sit for a few minutes, pondering what I should get when I hear two people walk in, seemingly in the middle of their own conversation.
"You sure she'll even be here, Randy?" That’s an unfamiliar voice, but one as soft as silk. Definitely a woman’s voice, and she’s definitely here to see me with Randy.
"Yes. From what I've seen, she's pretty damn punctual." Further confirmation.
"I'm gonna hold both of you to that."
"I know."
A slight pause in their conversing. Must be checking the place out.
"Any reason she chose this place?" I hear the woman ask.
"Familiarity. Kind of a 'meet her where she stands' type-deal. Get the camera person comfortable talking.”
For being Japanese, this new client of mine is pretty fluent in English. I'm not really hearing any accent on her speech.
"Ah, there she is. Come on."
Looks like they've spotted me. I turn around to see Randy and... Bassza meg... Tall ears. Sandy blonde hair. A tail of the same color. Light blue eyes. Blue bow tied at the base of her right ear with a half cover behind it. Plaid blazer over a red shirt with a black skirt. And worst of all: I can hear Met laughing his ass off all the way from his apartment in the Bronx. I hate it when he's right like this.
"Uh..." I’m at a loss for words.
"Kati, meet Gold City." Randy introduces her to me.
"Hi..."
She approaches me and extends her hand.
"It's a pleasure to meet you in person." She says, that silky voice exuding nothing but professionalism.
"I... Can say the same."
Come on, Kati. Try to keep it together. Don't get flustered before you even get a shoot in. Play it cool. Just ignore the sweat forming on your palm. I reach out and take her hand in mine. So soft... Focus. The gesture is brief, but handshakes are never meant to be long anyhow. I turn to face Randy and do the same.
"Good to see you. Now, let's talk business and how things are gonna work." He wastes no time with his response.
I can feel the tension slowly dissipate, but that doesn't make the nerves any less flustered. I've shot
beautiful women before, but Gold City... If ever there was a test the universe sent my way, this would
be it. This is going to be a very interesting year.