Chapter 6 Laurel

"Nice shot!" The crew cheers and I elude the sound that's thorning my ears with an annoyed clink of my coffee mug, dumping it on the glass footstool by my leg.

The first concept needed the sunrays at its zenith so we started with this one. It was a chill balcony setting where we both enjoyed coffee. Clothed in matching cardigans, jeans, and kicks, he leaned against the railing, majestically sipping from his mug while I sat on one of the chairs, staring up at him sweetly.

It has been endless hours of bending, tilting, turning, and twisting, all in the name of 'posing' for the photographs to be taken. My muscles are already screaming from exhaustion. The worst part is that only a few – the best – will be chosen from thousands.

I brush past the shoot director who is also the exodus of my problem.

How on earth does he store those insane poses in that tiny brain of his?

God!

"When is the next shoot?" I ask openly, taking off my cardigan and stretching it out to one of the wardrobe stylists who advanced toward me the moment I walked in. We're in one of the regular rooms with a balcony that has a splendid view of the sunlight.

"You only have a few minutes to change up. Then we continue right away," their leader says, walking out with me.

The rest pack up to follow suit. I want to get this done and dusted with – whatever it takes to get Ivan off my back.

We get to a bend where she stops.

"Is the next shoot here?" I ask, studying the brief unlit hallway barred with a sophisticated wooden door. Is it a hallway concept this time?

"No, ma'am. The gym studio is inside," she explains.

"Gym studio? I thought we were all dealing with sun-kissed concepts first." I drag the 's' in 'kissed' dramatically.

"The sun-THEMED pictures are all spread out through the seven days, depending on the location," she says and I roll my eyes at 'THEMED.' Who cares what it's called? Not Laurel. "Besides, you wouldn't want to be hopping in and out of the elevator for the shoot. That's why closer locations are scheduled consecutively."

After a brief pause, "After you," I say.

She walks past. I sway my eyes away from her crew who come into view, before following suit. I walk out on hushed clicks as two of them are rolling suitcases while the others are either hanging school bags or carrying the fancy make-up kit.

In a flash, I get changed into the new costume. It's a sportswear comprising a stretchable legging that over-amplifies my curves, a zipper crop top, and a sports bra. And of course, a blue and white vans to match.

"Whoa..." they chorus the moment I exit the dressing room, entering eyeshot. Their gazes of admiration walk me down to the set up dressing stand where I take my seat.

"Are you a model?" the head stylist inquires, peering into my eyes through the mirror from behind.

"Uh...No?"

"An aspiring one?" Another asks, crouching beside me and staring up with the same energy in her eyes.

"Uh... I'm not?" I reply, lowering my confused gaze at her.

"What they mean is – " A third voice joins in, and I veer in its direction. It's a blue-eyed beauty leaning her butt against the dressing table. Running up her fingers through the tips of my hair, she completes, "You have a banging body."

"Nia!" they call concurrently in hushed scolding tones, signaling her to hush. They've gotten so used to acting like robots that only act and speak when asked to, that they imagine the worst when they do otherwise.

Well, I'll have to remind them who they're dealing with this time.

"No, no, no." I smile leniently, waving my hands to loosen the stiff air. "It's fine. I don't bite," I say the last part, placing my hand over my chest as I shuffle amidst their views.

They chuckle lightly.

"Nia," I call and she straightens. Smiling kindly, I compliment, "Your name is just as pretty." As you.

"Thank you," she returns with a flustered smile.

"What are your names?" I direct to the other two in close company. It will do me a lot of good to address them by their names, and not have them running to me like frightened puppies, availing themselves before I have to call.

How does Ivan even live with this?

The one behind me, and the other beside me introduce themselves as Anah and Zamiel respectively.

"Would you like a messy bun?" Anah asks, gathering my hair upward. "Was thinking it would be perfect for the gym setting."

I shrug. "Anything would be fine by me," I say, letting 'Whatever, I just wanna get out of here' roll back down.

"Know why it's called Strawberry Hotel?" she asks, midway into packing my hair.

My mind flickers back to earlier this morning, and Ivan's voice waves in. "My favorite fruit is strawberry," I muse aloud, almost amused.

Amused at myself for repeating it, and for finally seeing the sneaky wisdom in telling me beforehand. He sure is very meticulous.

'LOL.'

"Pardon?" Anah's voice pushes through, bringing me back to reality in a blink.

"His favorite fruit is strawberry," I relate to her.

"Oh, wow," she says, and her voice gets lost in awe, leaving the left unsaid words up to her expression.

I hate having to give the impression of a loving wife who pays arduous attention to details but oh well. The regard in her eyes for me now doesn't look so bad either.

The shoot crew walk in along with Ivan, pouring rowdiness over the atmosphere. Zamiel and Nia rush to help the rest of the crew get the venue ready as they wouldn't want to be seen idling away. Not by Ivan.

Ivan's chief wardrobe stylist accompanies him as he enters to get changed. I scoff to myself, sneering at the show through the mirror.

'Does he need to get his diaper changed or what?'

They exit eyeshot and I blink my eyes away only to have them stumbling on Anah's who immediately looks away

'Did she see that?'

I hope not.

I usually don't trust my expressions. Whenever they decide to speak for me, they go overboard.

"Uh..." I stress, dropping my eyes on the table in search of ideas. But it's all hair accessories and cosmetics. I do not need to explain what she just saw but I do feel the need to do so after all. "Would I need makeup?"

"Yes, very light," she replies almost at once, playing along. Like she understands what I'm trying to do. "Majorly to enhance your looks," she adds with a strained chuckle.

Shortly after, Ivan strolls back in. SHIRTLESS. A tide of muffled gasps overrides the room in split seconds as dozens of eyeballs fly to him.

He's showcasing chiseled abs and toned biceps, as well as thick popping veins running through his arms that wiggle around the wrists while he flexes them, buckling his wristwatch.

'Noah cannot hold a candle to him, Laurel. GOD, he's hot.'

I scrunch my lower lip in a juvey protest but deep down, I cannot agree less. Sadly.

"Okay, we're ready!" the director hails, channeling the flow of the room to himself.

My eyes bounce off Ivan's body only to hold his pupils doused with indifference. I smirk, looking away.

Another exhausting episode of bends, twists, and turns kicks off.

Intimacy characterizes this set of photographs as we mostly have to come into skin contact. And just like that, three tiring hours pass.

The director announces a brief intermission after which everyone disperses.

"Thank you," I say to Anah, taking the towel she's stretching toward me. Thanks to the sweat-inducing lotion they made us apply, my skin is now slimy.

"I'm just gonna use the restroom," I say to Ivan who shoots me a suspicious look on my way out of the studio. He doesn't trust me well enough to behave. And I have zero intentions of changing that.

There's a sitting area just outside with a set of sofas where people can relax after an intense workout exercise, three water dispensers, and coffee brewers with utensils to go with them. Gives off a homely vibe. I'll have to leave the room entirely to get to the restroom which is right opposite the exit.

Making sure no one's watching, I act like I'm going to the lavatory before swerving to the exit.

Several Minutes Later...

I flap my legs against the water, keeping myself afloat. There couldn't be a better antidote than a chill bath to relax your nerves. Then, I take a plunge in, and my hair stands, its tips splaying atop the water.

"What are you doing?" Ivan's voice booms in the atmosphere, pulsing a knowing smile across my lips.

He finally found me.

I pop my head out of the water, and my wet hair falls, clinging to both sides of my face. Ruffling my hair backward, I wipe excess water off my face before saying, "Relaxing," unconcerned.

He sighs frustratedly. "We've been searching all over for you for fifteen minutes."

I scoff. "You perhaps didn't think I'd be back here, getting hung up with CCTV cameras on exit and escape routes." I pause, choosing to mumble the rest to his hearing, "The decision to hide up here in our suite was pretty wise then."

"Laurel, what is WRONG with you?" he grits out 'Laurel' but that's how far his composure carries him before fading, releasing the latter part of the sentence in a yell.

"NO!" I call back and then swim to the poolside, and then out of the pool. I'm literally just in a sports bra and underpants, but my infuriation throws the fact that I'm showing too much skin to him behind my head.

"What is WRONG with you, Ivan?" I return brazenly. "You committed a crime punishable by the law against me. No explanations, no apologies. All you could do was fly me down to California, make me strike weird poses like a doll, for weird photos to promote your magazine, your business, and your brand!" Low-pitched, I proceed to say, "What do you take me for, a promotion tool?"

"A crime punishable by the law?" he scoffs. "What now? You gonna rat me out to the police?" he asks scornfully, accenting 'rat' like I am a helpless child whose weapon is only its mouth.

"As a matter of fact, I can."

"You see, it will interest you to know that I did not physically implant those cameras myself. Whoever did it is alive and strong enough to bear the consequences of his actions. You know what that means?" The last question condenses vilely as he ambles toward me, not a whit of humor left in his soul. Close enough to wrap his arms around my waist without moving another step, he continues, "I am more than capable enough to make anyone guilty, make him take the fall for it all, and send him behind bars in my stead."

He would hear my heartbeat If he listened closely. Its hard thumps have my conviction already grounded to dust. My eyelids waver, drifting my eyes away from his.

"Your call to make, Laurel," he starts manipulatively. "Would you rather blow the whistle and have someone completely innocent behind bars, or would you shut your trap and do exactly as I say?" He isn't yelling, but the command in his tone already has my free will bowing to it.

"I believe we both share the same sentiment on this one," he adds when I remain mute. I feel like giving him a dose of his medicine but unfortunately, my lips are not with me on this one so they won't budge.

"Now you will go back in there with a smile on your face like a good girl. And stop raising unnecessary suspicions. Understood?"

"I hate you," I bite out in defeat, walking past him, inside.

Before leaving earshot, I hear, "Found her."