With death at my doorstep, I had to muster up the courage to do what seemed impossible. With all my strength, I took a breath, ignored the searing pain in my temple, and—

"Eyes wide open."

My eyes nearly rolled when those words dropped from his lips. Just the thought of Nolan gazing at me and knowing my mind had been elsewhere irked me. He knew me too well, judging by how I stared off into the distance at nothing. Still, my lips pouted and softened while I reestablished my focus on the soft white lights ahead and the click, click, click of the camera.

Only me and the athletic yoga pants hugging my lower body were in the shot against the sickly white backdrop that showcased my natural light brown skin my online fans adored. Time to sell my soul by selling the controversial leggings that had been dubbed the "colorist pants" by so many online in the fashion community.

By becoming the new representative for SSL, I was showing all the cool kids that a multiracial woman could sport Salty Saddles Leggings too. I knew rocking their clothes in an ad would only prove the company embraced people like me because of our racial ambiguity. I was aware that consumers wished to see the likes of a dark-skinned beauty sporting the leggings and not just a light-skinned woman of color with an ethnic background like me. I couldn't help but wonder if consumers would see through SSL's halfass attempt to calm the backlash of the current scandal.

"Extend your elbow and arch your back," Nolan ordered, his British accent breaking through his acquired American one. Of course, I complied. After all, he knew how to contort my body in ways that not only pleased each of us in bed but the masses in a photo. I trusted him to keep me feeling and looking good. It was our job, our livelihood depended on it.

From the corner of my eye, I could make out the attractive dimples on his smooth cheeks and my heart fluttered out of habit even as I told my brain to focus on the task at hand. At the start of our relationship his authority was a turn-on. He would order me around the bedroom with a no-nonsense attitude we both enjoyed. It had been a sexy tactic we used to keep the bedroom unpredictable and fun.

But outside of the bedroom—?

"More cleavage." His fingers snapped, stealing the attention from the monotonous clicking of the shutter. "Eyes on camera."

I hadn't looked away from the lens since he reminded me to extenuate them by opening them more, but I hugged my chest tighter to further push my breasts up into perfect mounds, determined to keep the perfect shot obviously meant for the male gaze. But wasn't our goal to sell pants to the teenage girls that mostly made up my fanbase?

Why question it? If it worked, it worked. And I had learned a while ago not to question a business's intentions. They knew exactly what they were getting when they hired me. It wasn't far-fetched that they had a team of talented experts who studied what their target audience wanted and the best way to sell it to them. The money wasn't coming in because I pointed out their morally ambiguous or inept decisions. After all, they were paying me to sit still and look pretty. So, sit still and look pretty became my expertise.

"That's it, baby. Beautiful."

A sense of pride swept through me from successfully suppressing an eye-roll. The pose was excruciating, but he, the photographer, or the viewer would never know. Not showing my pain was a skill I developed years ago, and it made me determined to make sure the viewer, the consumer, and even the most critical fashion enthusiast wouldn't see my pain either.

My career, my boyfriend, my life—I knew I had plucked a four-leaf clover and I had no intention of letting it wilt.

After a few more shots, Nolan called it done. I couldn't be more thankful for the break as it seemed like work was a nonstop endeavor. Even sitting in a makeup chair for an hour had begun to be exhausting.

I sighed, craving three things: privacy, a nap, and a double bacon cheeseburger. At least one of the three were possible.

"What's going on in that pretty little head of yours?" Nolan winked as he placed an off-white terry cloth robe around my shoulders, allowing me to embrace some sense of privacy and warmth in the chilly room. His large blue eyes filled with concern. "You seem a bit off today."

"Nope." I flashed a smile, feeling my cheeks tightened as I exaggerated the grin. "Everything's peachy."

"Peachy cobbler?" He raised an eyebrow, questioning how sure I was.

"Peachy cobbler." I nodded, hiding a bashful grin that threatened to sneak out every time his thick eyelashes fluttered. No matter how much he angered or annoyed me, all he had to do was give me a wink and a smile and it prevented the issue from sinking in too deep.

With a hand on my lower back, he guided me across the large, open space to sit at the small desk in the corner of the room. I would have had a serious issue being in a windowless room if it wasn't so spacious and bright with large theater lights to simulate natural lighting. Many companies rented and used the space not only for private photo shoots but for art and fashion exhibits as well, making our photography setup seem minuscule in comparison. Even so, the large lights anchored on the beams in the ceiling only emphasized the immenseness of the area.

I sat before the laptop that I used so many times to connect to my fan base around the world. We made sure to bring it with us to the studio and everywhere else we went as it was an important part of the job. I was well aware that keeping a healthy connection to my fans was vital to the advancement and relevance of my career. Without them, I might as well not exist.

"I want to show you how beautiful you are." He snapped his fingers before gliding them across my cheekbone to push a strand of hair behind my ear. This time, Joselyn's high heels click-clacked on the linoleum floor as the first sign of her presence. The steady click, clack emerged from behind the white backdrop and the set of umbrella lights, and she approached with the camera in hand.

Out of habit, I tapped my finger on my knee. A rhythmic beat on the pads of my fingers. Nonstop. Unconsciously at times. Was it a nervous tick? A sign of impatience? A prelude to the annoyance threatening to burst out of me? I wasn't sure. Maybe all the above. Either way, I couldn't afford to lose it. I had to keep it together.

Joselyn walked up, and I flashed a smile, always aware of my resting bitch face. She returned the grin. "Nolan? Rhea?" I hated the dress she had on. It wasn't the fabric or style that put me off but how her hips filled it out perfectly. No matter how much Nolan insisted he loved my petite frame, I'd often catch him eyeing Joselyn's shapeliness whenever she walked away. His eyes rarely lingered on me when I stroll away. I've checked.

So, which is it, Nolan? You like thin or curvy? I wished those words came out, but instead I tucked them away with the other whiny, complaining parts of me that would make me look like a jealous type. No one liked an envious woman.

"Show Rhea how well she did." Nolan gestured to the camera. His well-manicured hands and slender fingers stole my attention. A visible yet subconscious sign of health and wealth. His attractive hands. No matter how many times he hurt my heart with his wandering eyes, his touch never failed to make up for it. After all, he could look but those hands only ever touched me.

"Oh yay! Pics." She crouched down, angling the camera for me to see the screen. The ends of her blond ponytail came forward to frame her face. And suddenly she took on the childlike demeanor that would match her age if she were ten years younger.

But before I could focus on the raw images, a wispy darkness in the corner of the room took my attention. When I looked beyond the white lights and their umbrellas that softened them, a hazy, blackness stretched into the shape of a torso with limbs, and my breath caught when an ethereal humanoid figure looked back.

Startled, I yelped and stood, accidentally knocking the camera from Joselyn's hands and to the floor. The clink-clank of heavy plastic colliding with the white tile floor stunned me, but not enough to force me to pull my sights from the figure in the corner. "Sorry, sorry, sorry." I placed my hand over my chest to steady the rapid beating of my heart, but to no avail.

"Rhea!" Nolan hissed.

"I'm sorry." I kept my eyes on the corner where the dark shadow faded, further blurring the edges of its translucent lines into nothingness.

Was my mind playing tricks on me? What did I just witness?

I blinked to clear my eyes of any impurities that could have disrupted my vision. Still, I couldn't make sense of it. What the hell was that? The tiny hairs on the back of my neck tickled as they stood on end, and suddenly the air around me grew colder than it was before.

Even now, as I focused on the corner and the weird, misshaped fogginess that slowly dissipated, I could make out the humanoid form. How much of what I saw was real and how much was my eyes playing tricks on me?

"What's wrong?" Nolan patted my lower back to soothe my nerves, but his touch only startled me more. "Rhea?"

Do I say it? Do I allow it to just fall from my lips unfiltered? Would being honest in a time like this make me strong or vulnerable, and should I care?

I shook my head, staring in the distant corner. "Something's there..."

~~~

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