“What? Why?”
“Tough hands, a beer, and Pride and Prejudice.” She set the beer on the table, framed it, moved it closer to the top right edge of the book.
“You didn’t have to pour it down the sink.”
“It needs to look like you’re drinking a beer and reading Austen.”
“I have a mouth, and a throat. We could have poured it in there.”
“Sorry, didn’t think of that. Left thumb under the page, turning it, right hand on the beer. I need you to cover the labelI’m not looking for product placement. Hand on the beer like you’re about to pick it up, maybe even lift it a half inch off the table.”
Since there was no use crying over spilled beer, he followed instructions. Picking up the beer, setting it down, turning a page, not turning a page, until she lowered the camera again.
“Perfect. Just exactly right.”
He turned to see for himself, saw the beer had been inspired. It gave the shot a cheerful edge, and added balance.
“Real men read books,” Naomi said. “I’m going to offer poster size.”
He felt weird all over again. “Posters.”
“Brick-and-mortar bookstores, adult learning centers, college dorms, even some libraries. You’ve given me some damn good work today, Xander. I’m going to tell Kevin it’s a go on the steam shower.”
“You’re putting in a steam shower.”
“I am now.” Nodding, nodding, she scrolled through the shots on her computer. “Yes, I am now. I’d talked myself out of it, but when I get this much good work on a Sunday? I’m steaming.”
He pointed at her. “I earned time in that.”
“You definitely did.”
She didn’t resist when he pulled her onto his lap, but did hesitate when he started to take the camera.
“I’m not going to bounce it off the floor. It’s got weight,” he commented.
“Just over nine pounds. I’m mostly going to use the tripod with it, and it’s worth the weight. It’s tough and reliable, and you can see just how sharp.”
“And this deal on the back makes it shoot digital?”
Nodding, she removed it. “Excellent systemno pins to catch on anything, and it has its own integrated software. It’s not something I’m going to take on a hike, but for what I wanted here, and for what you want with the band, it’s the machine.”
He had to admit he’d like to play with it himself, just to see how the mechanics worked. But he didn’t see that happening, any more than he’d let her under the hood of his GTO.
“I use my phone if I take a picture.”
“Very decent cameras on phones today. I’ve taken some nice shots I’ve been able to manipulate and sell. And now, I wouldn’t mind a half a glass of that wine while I break this down and we set up in the garage.”
“I can take care of that. I’ve already got most of a beer.”
“Thanks.” She hesitated again, then kissed him. “Thanks,” she repeated.
“No problem.”
She rose, went over to carefully replace her camera in its case. And as he rose to get her wine, he saw her gaze shift back to the books.
“So, it’s a classic therefore a clichéd question, but have you read all of these?”
“Everything out here, yeah. There’s some in my office, in the bedroom I haven’t gotten to yet.”
She pulled off casual, he thought, compacting her tripod, sliding it into its soft case.
“Mostly fiction, right? But you’ve got some nonfiction mixed in. Biographies, histories, books on carssurprisetrue crime.”
He could pull off casual, too. “Nonfiction, written well, is a story.”
“I tend to only read nonfiction that’s work related. How do you know if something based on true is written true?”
“I guess you don’t.”
“Sometimes it must be perception or personal agenda, or just enhancing or adjusting for creative effect. Like a photograph. I take an image that’s real, but I can manipulate it, change tones, enhance or soften or crop out to meet my own agenda.”
He brought the wine to her. Fifty-fifty, he’d thought. She’d done the work she’d come to do on the first fifty. Now, he could see, she’d tied herself up in the second half.
“I’d say the person in the original image knows what’s true and what’s manipulated.”
“That’s the thing about words and images.” She took a slow sip of wine. “Once the words are on the page, the image printed, it becomes what’s true.”
She turned away then, set her glass aside to break down her lighting. “They’re not so different, words and pictures. Both freeze moments, both stay with you long after the moment’s over.”