Chapter Forty

When I had begun my modeling career, I was a very young twenty-two. Not to say that I was more immature than when I reached the age of twenty-four, but rather that I was much more easily intimidated and directed. The passing of a couple years in a very competitive career was more than enough to transform a shy caterpillar into a most ferociously determined butterfly.

      Paris had been the first step in molding such a temperament. In the streets of London, I had my friends and the steady assurance of Layla's time. All that changed the moment we entered into fashion country—as I often thought of it as. Immediately, Tess and I were separated by work. And though we roomed together in a decently sized studio apartment, we were there so little at the same time as to almost reduce us to strangers.

      The calls upon Layla's time, thankfully, were not as severe. Rather, with her, I found myself so busy that I couldn't think straight. Truly, it was with the help of each other that we rose in our chosen professions as we had. Between her camera-ship and my beauty, our reputations were both quickly on the rise in the city.

      It was in this way, with little time for sleep or food, that we were 'discovered' by someone with both an interest in beauty and photography. Until then, I was sure Layla and I could not be separated. But our duties fell elsewhere as other photographers urged my agency that I was a source of desire while Layla's own responsibilities led her in other directions. I very nearly pitched a hysterical fit until was assured by everyone that my best friend—which she had very easily become–would still be allowed the majority of my shoots.

      After about nine months in Paris, I had accrued a small fortune for myself. Tess didn't think it so much–and compared to the cost of living in Paris, it wouldn't have done me much good—but where I came from, and through my own stinginess, it would get me a long way. Which is when I then suggested to Layla that we travel.

     "You mean just the two of us? And do what?" She'd asked in a shocked voice.

      Laughingly, I had replied, "what do you think? I've saved enough money to do some of what I want. And I'm growing restless here. With as much fame as we've gathered between us two, you can't say that traveling wouldn't be permitted by our employers."

     "If you want to travel, Hummingbird, there's nothing stopping you."

     "But I don't want to travel and do nothing. You can't deny that a change of scenery wouldn't benefit us both. Please, Layla? Please can we just do something this wild and crazy together?"

      With an argument like mine, who could resist? Especially when our employers got wind of the scheme. Far from thinking it a bad idea, they quickly encouraged both of us to make the trips we wished. And along the way we were both to be assured of easy jobs that would keep us both well compensated for our travels. Thus our fame grew and our leisure time was spent with fun and entertainment and work all around.

      A year after we'd begun, my passport was stamped thoroughly with numerous exotic locales. Germany, the Bahamas, Australia and New Zealand, Japan, and many more. Yet, despite Layla's suggestions, I could not yet concede to return to America. The closest I had come was Mexico and even that filled me with an urge to flee. Somehow, deep inside, I still harbored the sensation that had haunted me from the moment I left: the moment I returned, I would be forever sentenced to that land alone. It was a risk I could not take.

      Shortly after I turned twenty-four, Layla and I were directed to a job in a small town in Italy. Though they were set on subjects, it was Layla's own brand of photography that the clients were asking for. Obviously, I tagged along.

      We traveled through the now well-known country for a few hours until we turned towards a small, nearly-ancient town whose name started to ring some bells. Not that I could think of another place with perfectly cobblestones streets out in the middle of the hills.

     "Hey, Layla, isn't this the place we did that spring shoot for—oh, what's the name of that magazine?"

     "I remember. And it is," she replied. Then, in rusty Italian, she asked our driver to stop. Handing me her everyday camera, she gave me a knowing look. "I can't be late. But since you're just along for the ride, get me something I can use, would you?"

      An impish grin spread across my face and I nodded before jumping out of the taxi. After checking the memory available on her SD card, I took off down the narrow streets, the shutter clicking as fast as my finger could press the button.

      It was one of many trade-offs in our friendship, my newfound skill with a camera. And though I had little in the way of offering her in turn, Layla was more than happy to let me loose with her treasured camera long enough to hone my skills. Whenever I returned with my samples of the day, I would get the same soft, measured instruction that had first led me to becoming a full-time model.

      For an hour or more, I wandered the streets with my eyes trailing over the ancient stone buildings and finding their atmosphere to be completely bewitching. At last, however, my aimless traveling carried me to where the crowds were thickest and people were loudest. I had most certainly found my group.

      When I first entered into the central courtyard, there were so many people crowded around the shoot scene that I was easily able to discover why the streets I'd wandered were so empty. Behind the cameras, the crowd was at least twenty bodies thick and I found out quickly that I would be unable to push my way through. My best hope was to scurry around to the side where the throng thinned out and the makeup tables were set up. Without another thought, I disappeared down a side street.

      As I neared the makeup tables, I was finally able to hear over the crowd of people and realize a very familiar song was playing through the half dozen speakers set up. Suddenly, I was as much a fan as everyone else gathered there and burst into a full out sprint. Braking quickly just on the edge of the camera range, I smiled widely at the same time that she noticed me.

     "Oliver!" Rebecca exclaimed, darting away from the scene of her new album cover just as Layla was preparing another shot.

      Lunging forward myself, we crashed into each other's arms with lough, raucous laughter. Even as we came dangerously close to collapsing on the ground, we danced around until we could steady ourselves, our mirth raising in appropriate proportions. When at last we were at a standstill, I clung to her for several long moments.

      After a minute, however, Rebecca stepped back to admire me. There was such victory in her eyes as she said, "you look fantastic, Oliver. Or should I say: Hummingbird." Laughter gave her eyes a brilliant shine though she kept it from her lips.

     "I can't believe you're here."

     "We have been here for hours. Where were you?" She demanded with faux petulance in her voice.

     "Exploring," I replied, holding up Layla's camera as evidence. "As soon as I got near enough to hear the music, though, I got there as fast as I could."

      As if on cue, another song began to play from the band's previous album. Rebecca turned her face towards the nearest speaker before smiling gently at me. "You'll have to listen to this next song."

     "You mean 'Edge of Everything?' I practically have it memorized," I answered with a sly grin. "And don't think I didn't notice whom could have possibly inspired it."

      Her responding smile was utterly unrepentant. "This next album is called 'Beneath the Seams'. Hope you'll like it."

     "Really? Hm. I wonder how Layla hopes to portray that. She must have some idea, though, since she chose the location and setting."

     "Your photographer? Yes, she's particularly interested in the fountain. I've been losing on it all day."

      Laughingly, I nodded to where our object of interest was staring at us. "Yes, and it seems she wants you back into position, too. Go. Work. I'll be here when you're done."

      Rebecca grinned widely one last time and pulled me into another tight embrace. Before she released me, however, she whispered quickly in my ear, "you've found a dream?" I nodded silently. "And are you happy?" Again, I nodded. Pulling away, she smiled widely. "Good. And when you find that you are able, send another on their way. Believe me when I say that is the greatest thing you'll ever do."

      It was in that moment that I remembered what else her letter had stated. "When we are finished here, I will pay you back for every ounce of that generosity, too. I finally have the means to do so."

      Rebecca's expression was shy and she remarked candidly, "I'm not holding my breath."

      I chuckled as she suddenly turned on her heel and trotted off to where Layla waited impatiently.

      Hours later, when all was said and done and the photos were sent off to the graphics people, Layla, Rebecca, her band, and I all went to eat and catch up. It wasn't until hours after that Rebecca and I went to the tiny inn and stayed up all night going over what happened in our lives since our separation. And I was extremely grateful when she produced just as many journals for the past few years as I had filled out.