Halfway Perfect Read Free Page B

old enough to drive, then she can be fourteen. But if she books something with me, they’ll want her to be what? Sixteen? Seventeen? Please let it be at least sixteen.
    Janessa dismisses me and Elana for the second time. After handing my shirt over to wardrobe, I head straight for the opposite side of the room, to avoid more gossip.
    I could only assume when Wes said, “make nice with Elana,” he meant on camera, not off. Or maybe he just meant to make her feel welcome, like, “Check to make sure her Happy Meal includes a toy.” God, even that could be twisted into something vulgar. I let out a frustrated breath and keep my back to the watching eyes. I just need to get through this job and then maybe Wes will be kind enough to fill me in on what the hell is going on.

Chapter 3: Eve
    October 2, 9:00 a.m.
    â€œYou! With the gelled hair,” Janessa shouts at one of the male models. “Why do you look constipated?”
    Eduardo’s face reddens, and he pulls at the back of his shirt. “This shirt’s so tight I can barely breathe.”
    Janessa throws her free hand up in the air as if to say, Why did you wait so long to say something? “Can somebody please fix the model’s wardrobe before he passes out?”
    Several people rush forward, giving Janessa a short break. I laugh under my breath. Everyone seems so afraid of her. I guess I am too, but not in the same way. I’ve worked with a handful of photographers when I modeled who would have told me to suck it up and quit whining.
    And I would have done just that. Thank God Compliant Eve died along with my modeling career.
    I’ve been observing for a little while now, and my legs have finally stopped shaking from my conversation with Wes. He doesn’t appear to be returning to the set. Every hour he doesn’t show up puts me that much more at ease.
    Janessa flips through images on her camera while she waits. “You have some questions for me, I assume? For your paper?”
    â€œUm, sure.” I retrieve my notebook from my purse and flip through some of the questions I’d written last night when I couldn’t sleep. “What was it like in Africa? Spending all that time there, it just seems so…I don’t know, exotic.”
    She laughs and keeps her eyes on the camera in her hands. “Africa? It’s lovely. With the worst economic conditions possible, the constant threat of malaria, and the poverty, I can’t think of anything more exotic.”
    â€œBut that isn’t how I felt seeing your photos,” I say in protest. Maybe exotic wasn’t the right word. Epic . That’s what I’d meant to say. “The spread in National Geographic and the piece in Time , not to mention your book. I’ve memorized every image. I could hardly look away long enough to turn the page.”
    I bite down on my tongue. Janessa Fields doesn’t seem the type to enjoy college girls gushing over her work.
    â€œI can tell you exactly how I pulled that off,” she says, gracefully ignoring my fangirl moment. “You have to find something uplifting as a focal point. You can find that focus in any situation if you look hard enough. And then let the destruction take over the background of the photo.” Janessa says. “It’s human nature to want to watch people survive against the odds.”
    The producer shuffles toward us, interrupting the philosophical lesson.
    â€œEverything looks great so far,” he says to Janessa. “Let’s get Alex and Elana again.”
    The couples switch places. Alex takes the floor again. The more I look at him, the more familiar he seems. Besides the younger version of him on Seventeen ’s wall, he’s probably on a billboard somewhere posing in boxer briefs.
    Elana looks really young. So young that I’m sure it took effort to make her appear old enough to pose with Alex. I watch them for several minutes while Janessa gives