Terry Smithers held the phone away from his ear as his boss continued to rant. “What the hell, Terry? I need this album cover done.”
“Sorry man, the regular photographer is in the hospital. What do you want me to do?”
“Get someone who knows his way around a camera and lighting. If I have to do the damn artwork myself I will but I need photos,” he growled.
“There aren’t that many people who will work with you anymore, Blaze. You’ve alienated every photographer in LA.”
“Fuck that shit. There’s got to be one out there. Find him or you’re fired too.”
Terry rolled his eyes as he heard the call disconnect. “What the hell, Terry?” he repeated Blaze Hunter’s words. “What am I? A fucking magician?”
Terry went online in search of local photographers. He called several who were available but as soon as they heard the name they either hung up or respectfully declined.
“OK, this is the last damn one, Divine Photos. Hm, sounds like the exact opposite of what he needs but it’s all I have.”
He dialed the number.
“Divine Photography,” said a cheery voice. “We’ll make you smile. How may I assist you today?”
“Hello, yes, this is Terry Smithers. I need some shots done for a client of ours for his latest album. It’s due to release soon and our current photographer has taken ill.”
“Let me see if Ms. Divine has any openings.”
He waited for several minutes listening to some garbage music on hold before the receptionist came back on the line.
“Ms. Divine is quite busy over the next week or two.”
“I’ll take anything. Blaze will have my head. I have called everyone on the West coast. Please?”
Terry shook his head and rolled his eyes. “Yes, Blaze Hunter.”
“Can you hold for a few more minutes? Let me speak to Ms. Divine and see if we can reschedule something.”
“I understand. Thank you. Wait? What?”
“I’m going to ask Ms. Divine. Please hold.”
The music kicked in again.
“Hm... maybe... Maybe they don’t know his reputation?”
* * *
Martha hit the intercom button. “Ms. Divine, I have someone on the line that needs photos for an album cover immediately. When I told him you were booked, he begged me to fit him in. I think you should do it.”
“Martha, I am in the dark room.”
“I'm aware of that Ms. Divine but he’s really desperate. And it’s for Blaze Hunter.”
“That means nothing to me.”
“Oh my God, you don’t know Blaze. He is one of the hottest rockers around and very eligible I might add. You should so do this. Please? For me? I would love to get up close and personal with him.”
“And when am I supposed to squeeze him in. I have the dog show Saturday.”
“What about Sunday? I can come in and set everything up. I’ll have all the cameras prepared. Please?” Martha was practically squealing.
“OK, Martha, I'll do it for you. Tell him to be here Sunday morning at ten. If he is late, I won’t be here.”
“Thank you. Thank you. Thank you.”
* * *
“Mr. Terry? It's Martha. Can your client come in on Sunday at ten?”
“You have got to be kidding. I have to drag his ass...”
“I’m sorry. I have to drag his rear end out of bed on a Sunday morning?”
“That’s the best we can do. And he must be here on time. Ms. Divine is very busy and normally does not work in the studio on Sundays. Mr. Hunter should be dressed in whatever he wants in the photo. He can bring extra clothes but he must be set to go at ten.”
He let out a long breath. “OK, I will find a way to get him there.”
“Great. See you both on Sunday.”
Martha giggled and rubbed her hands together after she hung up the telephone. She had been following Blaze’s career, loved his music, and would have done anything to meet the man in person. Now he was about to fall right into her lap. She could not wait for Sunday.
Click Follow to receive emails when this author adds content on Bublish