Oh.
“But the photos are always great, and we’ve never crossed the line.” Out of all the things I’d expected him to say, that he’d fired Roman wasn’t one of them.
“Physically, maybe, but verbally yeah, you guys crossed the line, Eli.” Preston gave me an understanding look, then glanced back toward the stairs. “He calls you a hooker and you scream obscenities at him or taunt him into losing it. And I know the two of you thought I didn’t hear the crazy things you said to each other when you were doing that stupid bet where you only wore panties for days, but I did.” When I didn’t respond, he kept going. “The anger and emotion coming from both of you is frightening.”
“But…” But he was supposed to quit and give up trying to make my life hell, not get fired.
“No, this is my veto, Eli.” He wasn’t angry, but there was steel in his voice. I knew he wouldn’t back down.
Preston wasn’t as loud as I was or anywhere near as colorful, but once he made up his mind, he was done. My brain was still fighting to process what he’d said. “But…”
I sat there quietly for another moment until it started to catch up to me. “I have to go.”
Standing up, I started heading for the door. I had enough of my brain working to pat my pockets down to make sure I had my keys and phone, but that was about all it was good for. Preston called out to me as I walked away, and I could hear the concern in his voice, but I just waved him off. I needed some space.
I understood why he’d done it. I’d demanded that he fire the ass three times the first week after he’d started, but Preston had always explained that the pictures were beautiful, and he wanted to see if we could sort out our differences. He’d thought Roman and I would eventually figure out how to function together.
As I walked out the door and toward the parking lot, I wasn’t sure what I was feeling. I should be elated. Even if he hadn’t quit, I wouldn’t have to hear the anger coming at me. Everything would go back to the way it’d been before he’d shown up and turned the company on its head.
It took me too many tries to get my keys out of my pocket and actually open the door. My fingers wouldn’t work, and I ended up opening the trunk instead of unlocking the car before finally getting in and shutting the door.
The privacy and the quiet only made it harder to process what had happened. As I looked out at the windshield and toward the building, I tried to picture how it would feel to walk in there Monday and know he wouldn’t be coming in…to know I wouldn’t have to see him again or deal with his anger.
It should have been easy.
I should have felt relieved. Right?
I should have been happy that the tangle of emotions he caused were gone.
It wasn’t that easy.
I kept coming back to the pictures and the way he’d looked at me while he was taking them. Not just the shoot where we’d lost our minds, but the others. Even after that night, the way he’d looked at me hadn’t changed. The desire and passion made him angry, and he’d say cutting words I wasn’t sure he really meant, but the expression on his face sometimes would slice right through me.
When he thought I couldn't see, or maybe he didn’t even realize he was doing it, desire would flare in his eyes and a possessiveness I’d seen in other men would vibrate out of him…but I hadn’t wanted them. I drove people crazy. Well, Eli drove people crazy. I wasn’t going to hold myself back or pretend to be anyone else when I was here. It was my home. My sanctuary where I could be whatever the hell I wanted.
Even if it was a horny drama queen who loved being watched.
Had that been what made Roman crazy?
He took photos for a living. Shouldn’t being watched seem natural if he wanted to do the watching? That’s kind of what photography always felt like to me, a voyeuristic fantasy of being able to stand back and watch in a socially acceptable way.
Was it the panties?
They’d thrown him at the beginning. The first time he’d seen all of us trying on the new stuff, he’d lost his mind. He’d tried to hide it, but the combination of masculinity and femininity had him second-guessing what he was getting himself into.
After a while, though, the way he’d looked at everyone seemed to have changed. The clothes hadn’t thrown him, and there had been no mistaking the passion and need in his eyes when he’d taken those pictures.
That night.
I hadn’t been able to bring myself to look at all of them. The first ones we’d taken were good, but as we’d fallen deeper down the rabbit hole, they’d been spectacular. From the glance that I’d forced myself to take, he hadn’t sent anything that would’ve raised eyebrows, but I wondered what had happened to the other pictures.
Growing up, I was always shown pictures of landscapes and old dead people and told it was art. The most interesting things I’d seen were some of the weird ones where people were more geometric than anything realistic. Naked meant porn, and that wasn’t art.
As I’d gotten older, I’d learned there were more subtle definitions of art and a lot more naked people in those old paintings than I’d been led to believe. But that night, I’d felt like what we’d created was more than dirty pictures…it was more than erotica…it was something else entirely.
Had it been art?
I wasn’t sure.
