The Sea Taketh (Alex Singer) (9 page)

             
Because I have no idea what I’m doing, Colin moves and positions me several times. The other models glare because I’m wasting their time and ruining the shoot. All of it makes me more nervous, and I keep messing up.

After Colin has taken countless photos, he puts down the camera.
              “This isn’t working!” He stomps his feet like a toddler. “Becky, find something different for Alex to wear!”

             
Becky escorts me back to the tent.

             
“Let’s see if we can salvage this shoot!” I hear Colin say with frustration behind us.

             
I fight back tears, knowing I have messed up everything.

             
“Colin tends to be a perfectionist.  It will work out,” Becky comforts me as we enter the tent.

             
I nod but fight the desire to leave.

             
This time, Becky carefully goes through the rack of swimsuits. She holds several up to me and puts aside three. “Let’s start with this one.” She passes me a dark green bikini.

             
The beach is empty when we return.

             
“I did what I could and sent them home,” Colin says to Becky. He puts away his camera and pulls out a larger one. “Let’s get in a few shots while we still have the light.”

             
I have been a huge disappointment. He is paying me two thousand dollars and probably wants to feel he’s getting
something
out of the wasted money.

             
The remainder of the day, Colin patiently poses and takes photos of me. It is a lot less pressure being just the two of us. I go to the tent and change swimsuits a couple times, and we move around the beach. When the sun sets the photo shoot ends. I change back into my jeans and hoodie and put on my glasses.

             
“The money has been placed in your account,” Becky tells me. “Do you have a ride home?”

             
“I’m going to catch the bus.” I hold up my ticket before heading out the door, grateful to have the day over. I just want to go home and save what little self-respect I have left.

Theory #4 has been upgraded to Fact # 7 – Modeling is mortifying.

Proof – Catty models, crazy photographers, my own ignorance of the fashion world, and
bikinis
.

             
I run to the bus stop but am too late. My bus home left five minutes earlier. I kick a rock with frustration. Fortunately, Gramps is out fishing.  Unfortunately, Mrs. Marsh will tell him if I don’t make it home before midnight.

             
I sit on the bench and begin rummaging through my backpack. Grateful for my best friend’s forethought, I turn on Jen’s emergency cell phone and dial my house.

             
“Alex?” she answers.

             
“I missed the bus,” I say. “I’m so busted!”

             
“How did the shoot go? Did you get the money?” she asks.

             
“Yeah, I got the money. You better call your mom to come get me.”

             
“Your ride is already on its way,” she says. I can tell she is smiling.

             
“You told your mom?”

             
“No, but I decided it would be best if you didn’t ride the bus alone, at night.”

             
“Who…”

             
I am interrupted by a car pulling up to the bus stop.

             
“Your ride, my lady,” calls Christian from the back seat of a green convertible.

             
“Jen, you are in so much trouble!” I hiss into the phone.

             
“What?” she asks. “Would you have preferred Jackson Powers?”

             
“We’ll talk about this when I get home!” I angrily hang up the phone. I know that Jen was trying to help, but I’m still upset about the prospect of riding home with Christian.

             
“Good evening, Alexandra,” Christian opens the back door for me.

             
“Thanks for the ride,” I mumble as I get into the car and put on my seatbelt.

             
“Have you had an enjoyable day?” he asks.

             
“I’ve had better.” I cross my arms.

             
As always, Sven is driving. He turns on the blinker and merges into traffic.

             
From his seat next to me, Christian is his usual calm, confident, annoying self. He reclines on the seat. “Does your grandfather know about this little adventure of yours?” He raises one of his perfect eyebrows.

             
“No, and you won’t tell him.” I glare at him.

             
“And why would I keep something as important as his granddaughter traipsing around the state a secret from Thomas?” he challenges.

             
“What do you want?” I ask defensively.

             
“As we have a very long drive ahead of us, I believe we have plenty of time for you to explain your feelings about water to me.” He smiles victoriously.

             
At this precise moment, a fit of nausea hits me. I lean over the side of the car and begin to violently dry heave. Sven pulls over. Christian calmly holds back my hair.

             
“When was the last time you ate,” he asks as the fit subsides.

             
I replay the last twelve hours and find I haven’t eaten the whole day. I’ve been too nervous and busy. I shake my head.

             
Christian frowns, and says something in Danish to Sven and Henrik. The car pulls back into traffic and drives directly to a sea food restaurant.

             
“I only have a couple dollars with me.  I can’t afford this place,” I say, refusing to get out of the car.

             
“It’s my treat.” Christian opens the car door.

             
“No, you three go ahead, and I’ll grab a burger from across the street.”

             
“And face Thomas’s wrath for leaving you alone? No, thank you. It’s best if you come with us.”

             
“Fine, I’ll pay you back when I get home.” I relent, getting out of the car.

             
“Are you always this difficult?” he smiles as he asks.

             
“Yes,” I say as I push past the Pedersens and walk into the restaurant.

             
“How many?” the maître d' asks. He frowns when he sees my clothes.

             
I ignore him. After having dealt with snotty models all day, one stupid guy is nothing. “Four,” I say, gesturing behind me.

             
His attitude improves when he sees the handsome, well-dressed Pedersens. “This way,” he says. He shows us into the restaurant. The buzz of the diners dies away as we enter the dining room. Everyone stares as we are shown to a table. The Pedersens have that effect on people.

“Can I get you something to drink?” the maître d' asks.

              “Not with your confounded American laws,” Sven answers as he takes a seat.

             
“Water will be fine.” Henrik also sits.

             
The maître d' hands us menus and goes for our water.

             
Christian pulls my chair out for me. I take my seat, and he sits beside me.

Sven waves over a waiter. “We’re ready to order,” he says.

              The waiter frowns at him but pulls out a tablet.

             
“We want three orders of the lobster, crab legs, and shrimp, no side dishes.” Sven hands him their menus, not even opening them. Henrik passes the waiter a bank card.

             
“And what can I get for you?” the waiter asks me, his dour attitude diminished with the expensive food the Pedersens ordered.

             
I pull back my hood and open the menu. Finding the cheapest dish, I say, “I’ll have halibut with the rice. Can I have a couple extra lemon wedges with that?”

             
“Of course,” the waiter smiles and winks at me.

             
Christian sees the wink. He protectively drapes an arm on the back of my chair. “Bring her a slice of your best cheesecake, as well,” he orders.

             
The waiter nods and goes for our food.

             
“Why were you in Portland, today?” Sven asks me.

             
“It’s none of any of your business,” I say, still embarrassed by the botched photo shoot.

             
“Really? I think it became our business when we were asked to drive you,” Sven replies.

Hypothesis #10
is upgraded to Theory #5 – Sven is the leader of the Pedersens.

Observations – He drives the car, eats first, and bosses around the other two.
             

“You don’t have to worry. I’ll pay you for the gas and the meal,” I say defensively.

              Sven snorts, and Christian shoots him a dirty look.

             
“Alexandra, are you in some sort of trouble?” he asks in his melodic accent.

             
“No, I just had a job.”

             
“Are you going to be returning?”

             
“It was a onetime thing,” I say.

             
“What exactly was this job?” Sven asks.

             
“Why are you guys always playing twenty-questions?” I answer, picking up my water. “I’ve told you before that my life is none of your business.”             

             
This elicits three frowns from the Danes.

             
Sven pulls out a cell phone. “I’ll let Jenifer know we’re running late.”                            

As he talks to Jen, Christian leans close to me and whispers, “I apologize that our a
bruptness seems rude, but where we come from we are very candid.”

             
“I’m candid!” I whisper back, “I tell people the truth, and I expect the same from them! I am just very private about my life!” I take a deep breath to calm myself. I realize I’m being a bit unreasonable to a guy that drove halfway across the state to pick me up. “I’m sorry for being rude, but I’ve had a bad day. I really am grateful that you came for me.”

             
He smiles a true smile, the kind that goes all the way to his eyes, instead of his normal polite one. He is about to say something when the waiter returns with our food. As soon as the waiter leaves, Henrik trades plates with Christian. When I give them a confused look, Henrik quickly says, “It’s a Danish custom.” As to prove the point, he trades plates with Sven.

             
I’m too hungry to ask questions. I clean my plate and wolf down the cheesecake. Christian smiles at my empty plates as Henrik signs for the meal.

             
“We better go,” Henrik says. He pulls a hundred dollar bill from his pocket and puts it on the table.

             
“You can’t leave that kind of tip.” I am mortified. “Don’t you know the euro, dollar exchange?”

             
Henrik and Sven laugh.

             
“Alexandra, we are very aware of the exchange rate,” Christian says. “Since we have the money, we like to reward good service.”

             
I shrug it off. If they want to waste their money, that’s up to them.

             
Soon we are racing along the highway. The large meal has made me drowsy, but the cool night air causes me to shiver. My teeth begin to chatter.

             
“Close the top, and turn on the heat,” Christian says to Sven as he takes off his jacket and wraps it around me.

             
“T-thanks,” I stutter. Normally I would have rejected the jacket, but I’m cold and tired.

             
“I think the time has finally come for you to tell me your opinion of water,” he says.

             
I shake my head as I close my eyes. “Tell Gramps about tonight if you have to, but that is a very personal question. I don’t know you well enough to share my opinion about anything with you.”             

*     *     *

              “Alexandra, we’re here,” Christian says.