A freelance photographer makes a life-changing decision when weighing love versus camera clicks.
Helpful Paparazzi
AT a movie premiere, a chance encounter couldn’t have been planned better. She was a statuesque porcelain-skinned well-toned starlet turning to pose on the red carpet. He was a bushy-haired budding photographer in a rented tuxedo, noticing her floor-length back-out gown with a center zipper on its way south.
Instead of snapping the photo of a lifetime, he approached, wrapping his arm around her while whispering an explanation. She turned toward the other cameras, smiling as the two walked away with his hand firmly grasping her ample bottom.
The tabloids quickly published stories of her relationship with a mystery man. Although thankful, Scarlett Nash was unfamiliar with the strapping young photographer living miles away from her economic status.
He was one of the intrusive people who made a living from simultaneously boosting the careers of entertainers while violating their privacy. Yet, out of appreciation, she took Damon’s phone number after the incident when they got off the carpet and went their separate ways.
This is Damon’s memory of an unanticipated star-struck evening while lying on his sofa in a one-bedroom apartment, flipping through images. Now he wonders if the vision of beauty will ever call him. The jiggling doorknob interrupts his thoughts when his exhausted girlfriend enters from a food-service industry job.
“Good evening, Babe.”
“Hi, Honey,” Marly responds. “I brought you something to eat. I’ll be in the tub, then off to bed.”
Damon digs through the bag and edits photos late into the evening.
Seizing an Opportunity
The next morning, at a Bell Air mansion, Scarlett’s publicist indicates that the additional press could boost attendance for the movie she just completed. Although public appearances with the co-star persist, feeding the notion of a secret romance increases her exposure.
“You want me to use Damon like a pawn for financial gain?”
“Call it what you want.”
“He rescued me from an embarrassing wardrobe malfunction,” she pleads on his behalf. “My thonged derriere would have graced every newsstand.”
“I could have spun that mishap too. My job is to keep the money flowing,” her publicist crassly points out. “Whether or not you love him, you know how to play the part. I can find out who he is.”
“No,” Scarlett says, bowing her head. “I have his number.”
She leaves one palatial estate for her own. Long brunette hair flowing in the wind while standing atop a mountain with an ocean view, she phones Damon.
“Hello, Damon. It’s Scarlett. Thanks for the great save last night.”
“Scarlett? Oh, you called? I mean, you’re welcome. As much as I would have loved the photo, it seemed too cruel.”
“You might be the only honorable paparazzi. To show my appreciation, would you escort me for a bite tomorrow at 3 o’clock?”
“I can’t afford the clothes to accompany you, let alone the meal.”
“We’ll keep it casual and stop by a Venice Beach cafe. Jeans and a T-shirt. My treat. Can you handle that?”
“Sure. Then text me the location, but I already know the paparazzi will be all over us.”
“I’m not embarrassed if you aren’t.”
“Don’t worry. I won’t be late.”
Dining for Dollars
Scarlett’s entourage arrives, and she poses for solo photos before grabbing Damon’s arm for a few more. They enter the restaurant, bustling with ambient music and background conversations. He admires the fishnets and seashells on the boat-themed wooden walls.
“Welcome to the other end of the lens,” she tells him while accepting menus and ordering a colorful cocktail. “Get whatever you want.”
“I’ll have what she has,” he tells the waitress. When they are relatively alone, within the view of several bodyguards, he says, “I never realized you were so down-to-earth.”
“What planet did you think I was from?”
“No. I mean a meal here with me in casual clothes. I figured you had a staff of cooks preparing whatever you like.”
“Sometimes a girl needs a break from that. You said you would’ve enjoyed a personal photo of my wardrobe mishap. How did walking down the carpet with your hand preventing it compare?”
“It was way better than a photo.”
After finishing their meal, Scarlett says, “I enjoy walking on the beach.”
“How can you—with the crowds and photographers?”
“Not this beach. My private beach—in Malibu. Want to come?”
“Let’s rehearse how this day goes. The answer to anything you ask me to do is yes.”
“Great. You should ride with me. My people can bring you back to your car later. I already know your response.”
At her place, he asks, “Do you mind if I take some pictures of you with your feet in the sand?”
“This is supposed to be personal time. Are you trying to monetize it?”
“These images are for me and you.”
After an hour of sunset photos, they go into her house to lounge in the entertainment room and preview the images.
With marble floors, high ceilings, and fine art that includes paintings and sculptures, Damon gawks a reaction, “This place is amazing.”
She sinks into the same recliner with him for a better view. “These are much better than tabloid photos. You have real talent.”
“Thanks. I’ll remember this day forever. Perhaps I should get going.”
“Before you leave, I’ll phrase my question for your reserved response. Just nod to confirm. Are you willing to sever prior attachments to be with me? Very good. Collect your things. My assistants will escort you to your new accommodations in my guest house.”
After Damon exits, Scarlett flicks on a large television screen, viewing herself in movies. A text message to her publicist says, “He’s on the hook.”
A Promising Future
During his ride home, Damon faces the most difficult decision of his life. After drinking all the beers in his refrigerator, his lips loosen enough to break up with his girlfriend.
“Marly, it’s time for a better life. I need to leave.”
“This is the thanks I get after supporting you all these years? Get out, you heartless bum!”
A limousine whisks Damon away to a life he couldn't imagine through his lens. What was supposed to be a manipulative promotional act, begins to look like true feelings. Paparazzi capture photos of the couple kissing.
A whirlwind month goes by. While holding hands across the table of a cozy Beverly Hills cafe beneath patio umbrellas, Damon says, “Knowing our world is captured from every angle, I want to marry you to keep from sullying your reputation.”
“Wow, Damon. I’m flattered. Celebrity marriages are big legal ordeals with prenups. Fan websites are full of our photos, with people imagining we’re doing any and everything. We don’t need the paperwork hassle to continue enjoying ourselves.”
“I walked out on a simple but faithful fiancée to be with you. The only way I could justify my cruel action is to find true love and marriage elsewhere.”
“With my career, marriage is not even on the table. So who’s it going to be?”
Damon wrestles with two loves. One in a world familiar to him; the other in one he doesn’t belong. “If Marly will have me, I need to try to put things back in place.”
Taking offense, Scarlett thinks to herself that she can stop acting now, saying, “Okay. If you’ll excuse me, my people will clear the guest house and take you back to your apartment.”
Damon returns to the simple apartment. Marly answers the door, seeing him holding a box with his belongings. She slams the door twice before pausing for an explanation.
“I love you. Can I come in?” Damon enters, deprecating his actions.
“I stopped viewing all the hurtful pictures of you with that actress,” Marly says with a firm disposition, littered with tears. “Are you here because she dumped you?”
“I’m here because I love you and want you to plan your ideal wedding.”
She replies doubtfully, “Your freelance photography plus my minimum wages couldn’t afford a courthouse wedding.”
“Don’t believe what you’ve read. Nothing happened when I stayed in Scarlett’s guest house.”
“You’re trying to say what I want to hear.”
“I've given this much thought,” reaching out to touch Marly’s hand. “Our relationship was stagnant. I wasn't doing my part. I’m choosing you over who might be the most popular woman in the world.”
“I’ve always loved you, but feelings don’t pay the bills.”
“True. While with her, I snapped photos that would pay for our wedding and move us into a better apartment. I did it all for you.”
“This is all too much,” wagging her head in disbelief. “You walked out on me to be with that beautiful celebrity. How can I compare? What if the money you expect never comes?”
Damon finds himself in the same situation as he was with Scarlett—again with a woman who is hesitant to marry. He hopes he’s made the right choice. Marly wonders if Damon’s words outweigh his broken promises. The answers won’t come in a flash.
The End
Scope: These terms apply across the platform, not per-story. Viewing and evaluation are allowed. Redistribution, adaptation, or production requires express agreement. Use of this material for generative training or republication in any format without authorization is prohibited. Any relation to actual persons or events is coincidental. About 1500 total words.
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