“What’s wrong?” was the first thing Elias said to me when I turned up the next day at the studio. It could be because I hadn’t bothered to dress like I usually did in my flamboyant “f**k you, world” style. I simply wore a black muscle shirt and a pair of matching shorts and sandals, but no makeup or jewelry.
“Why do you think anything’s wrong?” I replied as I entered the front office.
“You have circles under your eyes, and you look like death warmed over.” He closed the door behind me and gently touched my shoulder. “What happened, Trent? Tell me.” He took me by the hand, and I let him lead me down the hall, past the setup for the shoot and into his back office.
“Sit there and let me make you some coffee while you talk.”
“But…” I started to say, and at his look, I gave up. “Fine.” I pl
