Lost Daughters (4 page)

I
T WAS LOVE AT FIRST SIGHT
.

Loretta knew from the first time she laid eyes on Melvin “Mel” Ross the Saturday before Lincoln's birthday in February that she had to have him, body and soul. In the first few moments of their meeting, her imagination ran wild and the lusty grin on her face couldn't be removed with acid.

Mel was the man she had been saving herself for. Just based on his looks, he was everything she wanted in a lover. He was the same shade of pecan brown as Maureen, and he had the brightest brown eyes she'd ever seen on a man. Loretta couldn't determine his age. There were no wrinkles on his face, but there were a few faint lines around his eyes and the corners of his mouth. His thick, curly hair was jet black (probably dyed but she didn't care!). His face had that slightly “hard” look that comes with age, so Loretta estimated that he was in his mid- or late thirties. She didn't particularly care for hair on a man's face, but Mel's mustache was so neat and sexy that in his case it didn't matter. He could have been as hairy as an ape for all Loretta cared.

Loretta's mind went into orbit. Thoughts were zooming through her head like a jet. She liked the fact that Mel was tall, at least six foot two. She wouldn't have to lean down to kiss him like she did with most of the boys she'd been with (that was the only thing she hated about being five foot ten). He had long legs and long thick fingers, which, according to Mona Flack, usually meant a long thick piece of meat between his legs. He wore a thin T-shirt and skintight jeans so Loretta could see all of his important muscles. His thighs looked like they were trying to bust out of his jeans. She even glanced at his crotch, impressed to see such a large bulge. She could tell that this man was screaming for a blow job!

Mel was
the
man, and she was going to be
his
woman. So what if she was only fourteen? She was not as innocent as her mother thought she was. She had been fooling around with boys since she was thirteen and had participated in a variety of sexual activities. Technically she was still a virgin. She had picked up a lot of useful information just by eavesdropping on the cafeteria and locker-room conversations of the fast girls in her school. One thing she learned was that there were alternative ways to have a good time without getting pregnant or catching some nasty disease. She was amazed at how much impact a good blow job had on the average boy. Mel was probably no different. In fact, a man his age would probably appreciate a good blow job more than the boys her age, she told herself.

There was just one thing wrong with Mel. Apparently he didn't know a good thing when he saw it. Incredibly, he was paying more attention to Maureen than he was to her! Was he as blind as those beauty pageant fools? Getting her hands on this fine specimen of a man was going to be a real challenge.

When Loretta and Maureen had entered Mel's small apartment, which was also his studio next door to a private mailbox service, he had assumed they were sisters. Maureen had called him up a few days earlier and set up an appointment. She was surprised to see that he was black. On the telephone he had sounded more like some stuffy white dude from a Midwestern state.

Within ten minutes after meeting Mel, Maureen and Loretta knew the short version of his life story. He was originally from Chicago. After he had gotten tired of the brutal winters and his bossy mother and two older sisters (he didn't mention his pregnant ex . . . ), he decided to relocate as soon as he could scrape up enough money. He moved to Tampa when he was in his senior year of high school to live with a widowed, childless elderly uncle. Mel had been married for a brief period of time, but he was divorced now and had no children.

That was all he wanted to reveal.

“Uh, when you called me up, I guess I misunderstood you,” Mel told Maureen, giving her an apologetic look.

Maureen took a deep breath and gave Mel a stern look. “What do you mean by that?”

“You gave me the impression that your daughter was eighteen,” he answered.

“Oh. Well, I told you that she was still in her teens, but I don't remember tellin' you she was eighteen.” Maureen paused and then said quickly, “She looks eighteen, sure enough. See, she takes after the women in her daddy's family.”

“Hmmm. How does the rest of your family feel about your daughter pursuing a modeling career?” Mel asked, looking at Loretta.

Before Maureen could respond, Loretta piped in, “It's my life and I can do whatever I want to do.” She glanced at Maureen and when she saw that Maureen was not looking at her, she gave Mel a suggestive wink.

L
ORETTA'S WORDS HAD STARTLED MEL, BUT HE REMAINED COMPOSED.
Her wink had aroused him in more ways than one. Was she coming on to him? Or was she just aggressive and interested only in working with him? Either way, he liked feisty females. Especially ones who were easy on the eyes like Loretta and her mother. He looked at Maureen again.

“Your daughter seems very mature,” Mel remarked. From the corner of his eye, he saw Loretta's eyes roll.

“She is. She's always been, uh, kind of grown,” Maureen said with a giggle. “You know how it is with us black folks. When I was her age, people used to tell me all the time that I was too ‘grown' for my age.”

“How does the rest of your family feel about Loretta getting into modeling?” Mel asked again.

Maureen cleared her throat. “Her daddy's deceased, and I don't have any other kids,” she answered. “Look, my daughter is a real good girl, and I want her to learn early what life is all about. She's got everything it takes to model—just look at her!” Maureen placed her hand on Loretta's shoulder and slowly turned her around so Mel could get a look at her from the front and the back. He was glad to do that too. This young girl looked good enough to eat, and he would certainly like to taste her. “You can't tell me that she's not as pretty as that Christie Brinkley or that Iman that everybody is makin' such a fuss over!”

“Your daughter is definitely model material,” Mel agreed with a nod, wondering what it would feel like to play with a fresh pair of fourteen-year-old titties. Her appearance from behind was just as impressive as her appearance in the front. Maybe even better. She had a butt that wouldn't quit. Mel could see himself riding her doggie style, spanking her perky young ass with each thrust.

“I hope you won't let her age stop you from workin' with her. I read somewhere that some of the top models got started around thirteen or fourteen. That girl from England that called herself Twiggy back in the sixties, I read in the
Enquirer
that she reached the top of her game when she was just seventeen.”

“That's true, but the teenage models on that level are with big agencies, and a lot of them attended modeling school. In many cases, they already know the ropes before they even approach a photographer,” Mel said, looking directly into Loretta's eyes. He noticed the pout on her face. “I'm real sorry,” he added, patting her on the shoulder and hoping she wouldn't cry like the last young girl had done when he turned her down.

“We don't have money for modelin' school,” Maureen stated with a pout on her face just as big as the one on Loretta's. She looked like she was about to cry too. Mel could tell that this woman was devoted to her daughter. She was probably willing to do whatever it took to please her. “Can't you make an exception and give us a chance?” Maureen asked with a pleading look on her face.

Mel scratched his chin and gave her a thoughtful look. The fact that Maureen didn't have a husband or a few husky teenage sons who might come after him if he got out of line with Loretta made him reconsider. “Do you work?” he asked Maureen, hoping she wasn't another welfare recipient expecting credit. “I only accept cash or credit card payments.”

“I have a job,” Maureen said quickly. “I've been workin' since
I
was a teenager.”

“Right now she's just a file clerk at that lobster factory near the docks,” Loretta offered.

Just a file clerk in a lobster factory.
Panhandlers probably made more money than Maureen did, Mel thought. It was a damn shame for such a pretty woman to be wasting her good looks on a lobster factory. Mel suddenly felt sorry for Maureen and her daughter, but he didn't do charity work. He had to make that clear.

“For the deluxe order, which is what I would recommend for your daughter, I would need a twenty percent deposit, cash, check, or credit card. Then the balance would have to be paid in full before I release the photos. No exceptions,” Mel asserted.

“How much would that cost and what all would we get?” Maureen wanted to know.

“Oh, we'd negotiate a price and quantity based on what you can afford. In addition to glossy eight-by-tens, head and full body shots, the package includes a waterproof leather case, as many wallet-size copies as you'd like, and a thirty percent discount if you use my services again.” Mel gave Maureen a serious look. “A lot of my longtime clients let me choose my own models when I do ads or local TV and department store catalog work. I can tell you right now that I would use Loretta on a regular basis.” From the look of delight on Maureen's face, Mel could tell that he had her hooked. For a moment he thought she was going to kiss his ring.

“Hmmm. I have part of the money now, and I am sure I can borrow the rest,” Maureen said, sounding hopeful. “As long as it's somethin' that I can afford.”

“Like I said, we can negotiate a price based on what you can afford. I'm sure that we can work something out that you'd feel comfortable with.”

Maureen nodded and slid her tongue across her bottom lip, which was so dry she couldn't wait to be on her way so she could stop somewhere and get a Slurpee. “Uh-huh. So, uh, can you take my daughter's pictures today?”

Mel shook his head. “I'm sorry. I have a very busy schedule for the next few days. In the meantime, maybe you should give this a lot more consideration before we make a commitment,” he suggested. “I don't want to waste your time, and I can't afford to let you waste mine.” He knew that the more “professionalism” he displayed, the better. He also knew that it was not too smart for him to seem too eager. “Uh, I am very demanding and I don't hesitate to drop a model if I don't like the way things are going.”

“Mr. Mel, I won't disappoint you! I want to work with
you
!” Loretta hollered, shifting her weight from one foot to the other. “I mean, I looked at the pictures in your front window and they look real good.”

Maureen jabbed Loretta's side with her elbow. “Maybe you ain't photogenic enough for Mr. Ross.” Maureen sniffed. “We can go back to that guy out at the mall. That
white
guy . . .”

“Your daughter is very photogenic, Mrs. Montgomery, but this is a serious business. I work hard and I expect the models I work with to work hard. See, I don't just photograph a lot of them. I do a little managing too,” Mel volunteered, knowing that if he got the chance, he would manage more than Loretta's career. His breath caught in his throat. He looked at Loretta. She winked again, and this time she slid her tongue across her juicy bottom lip. Oh yes. She was ripe and his hands were itching to pluck her. What was even better was the bait-and-hook method. It was the best way to catch a big fish.

“Let me think about it for a few days,” Mel compromised, handing Maureen his business card. “I still have your telephone number, so I might call you in the next week or so. Thank you for coming by.” He held his breath, hoping that he didn't sound too discouraging, but that was exactly how he sounded to Loretta. Especially when he added, “Now I hope that you ladies will enjoy the rest of your day.”

Loretta was absolutely horrified. She decided to do what she had to do: beg. “Oh, please, Mr. Mel. Pretty please with sugar on it. Give me a chance. Do my portfolio and help me get some modelin' jobs! You won't regret it!”

Mel laughed and that only made Loretta angry.

“So, you don't want to work with me?” Loretta barked, giving Mel a harsh look. “What's the problem? You don't like my looks?”

“You're a very beautiful girl, Loretta,” Mel replied with a toothy grin. “You are going to do well.” Playing cat and mouse was one of his favorite games when it came to women. Give them just enough hope to keep them interested. Snatch it back and do it all over again until they were easy to manipulate.

“Then will you tell us what the problem is?” Loretta demanded. “You can't make up your mind right now?”

“I told you that I'd think about it. Whether or not I decide to work with you, I will call you in a few days to let you know.”

“If we have to pay for you to do her portfolio anyway, what's the big deal? That's all we really need from you. We didn't come here lookin' for a manager to get my daughter some work. You don't need to do that if you don't want to. We can do that on our own,” Maureen said firmly. “We just need somethin' to show the people with the modelin' jobs. I
know
my daughter can be a good model.”

“Uh, yes. If that's all you want, I can do a portfolio only,” Mel admitted. He could tell by the way Maureen blinked and smiled that she was still dangling on the hook. “I'll call you. One way or the other, I'll call you,” he said again. It had been a while since Mel had encountered a level of desperation this high. Now he wasn't so sure Loretta would be worth the aggravation that it might cause him down the road. He moved toward the door and opened it. “You ladies have a blessed day,” he said.

Maureen wanted to slap him. Who did this uppity punk think he was? She dropped Mel's business card into a receptacle on the sidewalk on the way back to her car. Had she known it was going to be this hard just to get a qualified photographer to help Loretta put together a decent portfolio, she would not have agreed to do it. However, from the look of disappointment on Loretta's face, Maureen knew that if she backed out now, she would never hear the end of it.

“None of those other photographers said anything about you goin' to modelin' school, and they didn't care about you bein' just fourteen. They were all anxious to take some pictures of you
and
hook you up with some of the local businesses,” Maureen told Loretta as soon as they got into her car and had eased out into traffic.

“I don't want to work with any of those other people!” Loretta snapped. “Mr. Ross is the right photographer for me. I just know he is, Mama!”

“Lo'retta, you don't even know that man. What makes you think he's the right one?”

“For one thing, he's a brother and you and every other black person I know is always yip-yappin' about how we black folks need to support more black businesses. I don't think a white photographer would work as hard to get work for me as a black one would.”

“I'll call this Mel man up again next week,” Maureen said with a heavy sigh. “But if he gives me the runaround again, I'm through with him. If you don't want to work with one of the other photographers that already said they would like to work with you, you can forget it. Is that clear, Lo'retta?”

“Yes, ma'am.”