Dirty Shots (17 page)

***

A
nya stood on the street
corner right around the block from her college campus, the same spot where she’d gotten into Eric’s car after he’d punched Gavin. Though she still didn’t want him anywhere near campus, this time, when Eric had offered to pick her up to take her for dinner with her parents, she’d said ‘yes.’

She’d dressed in her most sophisticated outfit—a smart, navy blue skirt suit. It was the same suit she’d worn to her interview for her college course. She wanted her parents to see her on Eric’s arm, and view her as the adult she was, rather than the little girl she was sure they still thought of her as. The smart outfit and the entry with Eric—a mature, sophisticated man—was supposed to make them realize she was a grown-up now, capable of making her own decisions.

But none of these preparations changed how she felt. She was sick with nerves. Her stomach was twisted into a knot, her throat almost closed over. Shifting from foot to foot, she fiddled with the strap on her purse and chewed her lower lip until she tasted blood. She couldn’t believe she was about to have this conversation with her folks. She dreaded their reaction, certain she already knew what it would be.

Perhaps their reaction won’t be as bad as you’re imagining? Perhaps
... But she doubted it.

A car slowed and began to pull over. With relief, she saw Eric’s big Lexus. He pulled over, and she hopped in the passenger side, enjoying sliding into the soft leather seat.

“Hey,” he said, leaning over to kiss her on the mouth. “How are you doing?”

“Terribly,” she said. “But better now I’m with you.” And it was true. Being in Eric’s solid presence made her feel like she could breathe for the first time that day. All day, she’d been running over the imminent conversation with her parents in her head, and she started to worry that the photographs were trivial, just two people playing at sexy art. But now Eric was here, knowing how seriously he took his work, it didn’t seem that way anymore. He gave the project an authenticity that would be missing if he weren’t involved. She just hoped her folks would see it in the same way.

Eric pulled the car back out into the traffic.

“You’re nervous, huh?” he asked her, throwing a glance in her direction.

“That obvious?”

“Your knee is jumping up and down, and you haven’t stopped chewing your lip.”

She realized she still was and pressed her now sore lips together, forcing herself to stop.

“I feel sick at the thought of telling them. I don’t know how I’m even going to get my mouth to work when I’m actually sitting in front of them.”

He reached out and placed a hand over hers. “Would it be easier if I tell them?”

She shook her head. “I appreciate the offer, but this really has to come from me.”

“Okay, but if you change your mind, the offer still stands.”

She smiled, but it felt weak. “Thank you.”

The closer they got to the restaurant her parents had booked, the more her nerves ratcheted up. She felt like a tightly strung bow that was close to snapping. Her palms were soaked, and she was sure dark spots probably marked the underarms of her jacket. She hated feeling this way, especially next to Eric when she’d worked so hard to portray herself as a sophisticated woman. She felt like she was about to undo all her good work in one evening.

And what about all the years of good work you’ve done with your parents? Aren’t you about to undo twenty-two years of love and respect with them?

She didn’t want to listen. She had to believe she had no choice in the matter. If she wanted to be able to decide her own future, her parents would need to know.

Eric pulled the car up outside the restaurant and handed the keys to the valet. Anya stepped out of her side of the car and walked around to join Eric. He took hold of her hand and gave it a reassuring squeeze.

“And you look beautiful, by the way.” He reached out and twisted a lock of hair that she’d deliberately left free from her chignon. The back of his finger brushed her cheek as he did so, and shivers coursed down her body. “Absolutely stunning.”

She only just noticed how smartly dressed he was himself, wearing a dark gray suit which complimented her own outfit. That he’d made an effort to meet her parents pleased her. “You don’t look so bad yourself.”

He smiled. “Why, is that a compliment, Miss Rhinne?”

She couldn’t help herself. Even under the circumstances, he still managed to make her smile. “Why, yes, it is, Mr. Rutherford.”

They grinned at each other, and then Anya glanced back toward the restaurant door, once again remembering the reason they were there. Eric leaned down and gave her a quick kiss on the cheek.

“It will be fine. Try not to worry.”

She wished she could share some of his optimism.

She took a deep breath, and hand in hand, they entered the restaurant. The hostess met them, a young woman wearing too much makeup and a fake smile. “Good evening. Do you have a reservation?”

“We’re joining another couple,” said Eric. “The name’s Bergman.”

She glanced over to the restaurant. “Ah, yes. They’re already here. Follow me, please.”

With her heart in her throat, Anya followed the hostess’s line of sight. Sure enough, her parents sat at a round table which was covered in a starched white cloth and expensive silverware and glasses. Her mother had already noticed her and was rising slightly from the table as she waved with one hand and nudged her father, who was immersed in the menu, with the other.

Her father’s blond hair had lightened to white, and while it was receding from the temples, he still had a mostly full head of hair. His strong jaw, light blue eyes, and six feet two build meant Trent Bergman was still a handsome man, even in his fifties. Her mother was more like her, small and curvy. Unlike her father, she dyed her hair, but the blonde appeared natural, and was pulled into a style similar to the one Anya wore now. Her eyes lit up at the sight of her daughter, and the twisting in Anya’s gut returned. She hated that she was about to make the light in her eyes go out.

Inquisitive, her mother’s gaze flicked to the man at Anya’s side. She smiled charmingly and rose fully from the table. Her father had finally torn himself from the menu and also began to get to his feet.

“Anya, honey,” Saara Bergman said, pushing her chair back to move from the table, enveloping Anya in her arms. She hugged her hard, and Anya had to blink to prevent sudden tears springing to her eyes.

“Hi, Mom.”

“It’s so lovely to see you. You’re looking fabulous.” Her gaze went to Eric. “And who is this equally fabulous man you’ve brought with you?”

Her father was staring at Eric. He lifted a finger and wagged it in Eric’s direction. “I know you, don’t I?”

Her mother frowned. “Now you say that, you do look familiar.”

Anya took a deep breath and plunged in. “This is Eric Rutherford, the photographer.”

A wide smile beamed from her mother’s face. “Of course, Mr. Rutherford! We’re both big fans. I’m so sorry we didn’t recognize you right away.”

“It’s Eric, please.”

“I’m Saara, and this is Trent.”

He gave an equally charming smile. “Yes, I know. Anya has already told me. It’s lovely to meet you both.”

She could see her parents trying to figure out the significance of Eric Rutherford accompanying her to this meal. Her mother glanced down at their joined hands and blinked in surprise. Perhaps she’d thought he was there as a kind of mentor.

Strangely, I suppose he is.

Her father reached across the table and shook Eric’s hand. “Good to have you here, Eric. Unexpected, but good nevertheless.” He turned his attention to Anya. “And how are you getting on, Anya?”

That was her father, short on the affection. He always had been, though she didn’t doubt he loved her. Her mother had always done her best to compensate for the way her father was, but that hadn’t changed the fact Anya never really knew what it was like to have her dad hug her and tell her how much he cared.

“Good,” she said. “Great, in fact.”

“That’s wonderful. I guess this calls for some champagne.”

He raised his hand to get the attention of the waiter and ordered an expensive bottle. Eric offered to pay, but her father waved him down. “It’s our treat.”

“So, Anya,” her mother said, after the champagne had arrived and been poured into flute glasses for them all, “is Eric the thing you wanted to talk to us about?”

Her cheeks flushed. “Yes, it is. I wanted you to meet him. Eric and I are together now.”

“How long has that been going on?” her father said, his tone short.

“Nothing’s going on, Dad,” she said, irritated that her father couldn’t be happy for her for once. She hadn’t even told him the bad news yet. “We’re both adults, who have the same interests, and who enjoy each other’s company.” She picked up her glass, as if to make her point, and took an angry swig of the cold bubbles.

“So how did you two meet?” asked Saara, trying to keep the conversation bright, while completely unaware she was leading the questions that would most likely break up the party.

“We met at work,” Anya said, trying to put things in the best light.

“You’re doing photography now, Anya?” her father asked, his blue eyes focused on her with his intense, bright gaze.

“It’s certainly something I’m interested in,” she said, not really answering the question.

The waiter arrived back, hovering to take their orders. Still feeling as though she’d struggle to stomach anything at all, Anya ordered the lightest thing she could find on the menu—a salad of chorizo, spinach, red onion, and new potatoes. Eric ordered the steak. She wondered if they’d get a chance to eat their meals.

“Actually,” Eric spoke up, surprising her. She’d told him to leave this to her. “Anya has been working for me on the other side of the camera.”

She wanted to hit him. She’d wanted to do this in her own time, and he was forcing the conversation his way.

Saara brightened once again. “Really? You’ve been modeling for some of Eric’s portrait work? How wonderful. You know, Anya, I always told you how beautiful you were, even though you would never believe me.” She turned to Eric. “Can you believe she’d never accept how beautiful she is?”

Eric smiled and looked over to make eye contact with Anya. “I’ve told her every day since we met.”

Her cheeks heated, and even her mother was beginning to look flustered. Her father, however, went completely unmoved.

All eyes were focused on her. She felt herself shrink beneath their gaze, her face growing hotter and hotter. She couldn’t bring her mouth to open and describe to her parents here in this fancy restaurant exactly what type of portrait photography she’d been posing for.

“Excuse me,” she said, pushing back her chair and getting to her feet. “Bathroom.”

She hurried from the table, doing her best not to break into a run. Without looking back, she scanned the room for the signs for the bathroom and raced toward it, almost knocking a huge silver platter of food from a waiter’s hands.

“Sorry, sorry,” she said, still rushing. She burst into the thankfully empty bathroom and stood at the bank of sinks, her heart racing.

I can’t do this.

She’d let them find out on their own, by attending the exhibition, or perhaps reading reports of it afterward. There was no way she could open her mouth and tell her parents she’d been posing for erotic photo shoots.

The bathroom door opened, making Anya jump. Her mother walked in, a concerned expression on her face.

“Anya, honey. What’s the matter? What’s wrong?”

She pressed her lips together, sudden tears threatening once again. She couldn’t stand for her mother to be nice to her when she was about to let her down so badly. “Nothing,” she said. “Everything is fine.”

“Don’t give me that. I gave birth to you and raised you. Don’t you think I’d know right away when something was wrong with my little girl? I could tell on the phone. That’s why I arranged for us to come into town early. Is it something to do with Eric?” Something in Anya’s expression must have changed at the mention of his name, as she added, “You’re not pregnant, are you?”

“No, Mom!” she burst out. “Of course not!”

“Well, you can’t blame me for asking. It was only because you were drinking the champagne that I didn’t ask sooner.” She paused then said, “So what is it, honey? Please, tell me. I’ll drive myself crazy with worry if you don’t.”

Finally, the tears came. “Oh, Mom. I’m so scared you’re going to hate me.”

“Anya, stop it! You’re scaring me now.”

So much for acting like a woman of the world, an adult who knew her own mind. Here she was blubbering in the bathroom like a child.

“It’s the photographs, Mom. The one’s Eric has been taking.”

Her face hardened. “Has he been making you do something you don’t want to do?”

“No, Mom. Not at all. I
wanted
to be his model. He hired me.”

“What are you telling me, Anya?”

“I’ve been modeling for Eric, but they’re not like his normal work. They’re erotic art.”

“Anya!”

“It’s tasteful, but yes, the images are explicit. The thing is, he’s going to have an exhibition at the Blanc Art Space in a week. I needed to tell you because you’d find out eventually.”

Now it was out, the tears dried up, and she wiped her face.

“Oh, Anya.” Her mother pressed her lips together, shaking her head. She lifted her hand to cover her face in dismay, and then turned away from her daughter.

Anya’s heart sank. This was it, the reaction she was expecting. But to her surprise, her mother dropped her hand, turned back to her, and met her gaze. “How are we going to tell your father?”

She blinked in surprise. “You’re not mad at me?”

“Oh, honey. I was young once, too. And I know Eric’s work. I’m sure whatever photographs he’s taken have been done in the best possible taste.” She smiled. “And he’s a very handsome man. I can understand why you’ve fallen for him.”

She gave a shy smile. “Thanks, Mom.”

“But the question still remains about how we’re going to tell your father. I can’t promise his reaction will be the same as mine.”