Sins of the Fathers

Chapter 5-1

Chapter 5

“Turn just a hair to the left. Good. Now look down slightly, hands in your pockets. Perfect.”

Mark heard the sound of the camera as the photographer moved around, taking shot after shot. They’d been at it for hours but at this point, Mark was used to the routine—if not the somewhat odd poses he sometimes had to take. Ones he found strange or amusing but that, he’d learned, help to sell the clothes he was wearing.

The House of Lauré’s advertising campaign was due to begin in less than a week in men’s fashion magazines, in television ads, on billboards.

You name it, my face and body will be there.

Mark thought about that often in the past few weeks.

It scared the hell out of him. He was, for better or for worse, going to be ‘the face’ for Lauré’s new line everywhere but on the catwalk. For that, he’d been told by Phillips, he’d need more intensive training because it was an art unto itself.

“Mark, pay attention. I know you’re tired, but we’re almost finished here. Then you can go out and celebrate.”

Mark snorted as he moved to the photographer’s orders again. “I’m too beat to even think of going out.”

“Then go home to your fancy new place and relax. You deserve it.” The camera whirred. “You’re going to be the toast of the town by this time next week then you won’t have a second to yourself.”

His new place was a tad expensive in his opinion and not really all that fancy, but it sure beat the hell out of living in the hotel, and on the salary he was making at the moment, he could afford it.

It was a large loft in the Upper West side of Manhattan, running the depth of the sixth floor of the building. There were windows looking out over the city on three of the four walls, a definite plus in Mark’s opinion. The walls were exposed brick in the massive living room. The smaller, but not small, bedroom had beige walls and both rooms had hardwood flooring. There was also a separate kitchen, small but still with room for a table and two chairs. All the place needed at this point was more furniture. He had a queen-sized bed with a matching dresser, a sofa, and a couple of armchairs. That was it.

“Nothing wrong with staying busy,” Mark commented, after the photographer told him he was finished for the day. He headed to the dressing room, trailed by Anna, the wardrobe person, who would retrieve what he was wearing, as well as the rest of the outfits.

“There’s busy and too busy,” Anna said, as he unselfconsciously stripped down in front of her. At least he’d gotten the hang of that. Apparently there was no time to be shy about changing clothes in this business. At the cost per hour for photographers and all the auxiliary personnel, every second counted. “As an old hand in the business, be certain to take time to be with friends and unwind.”

“What friends?” Mark replied, snorting softly. “I can count them on one, okay…two fingers. Three, if you count my ex-boss.”

“You cannot be serious. A handsome man like you should have women flocking to be with you. Or men,” she added, obviously hedging her bets.

“Even if I did, which I don’t, I doubt they’d be considered more than acquaintances at best.”

“True, and in this business, if you make it as big as Mr Phillips thinks you will, you’ll have to be careful about who wants to be a friend. There are lots of phonies out there looking to bask in the glow of fame and fortune.”

“I sort of figured as much,” Mark said, smiling wryly. “I could end up still having only two or three real friends.” If they’re really that. Johnny and Remo are sort of friends, I think. Peppe, yeah him I would call ‘friend’, strangely enough. I really should stop by there and say hello. See how things are going.