'You want glamour head shots, right?'
'It would be a privilege to have my portrait taken by you. But that wasn't why I said it.'
'So why did you say it?'
'Because I felt it. I think it's true, and I think you need to hear the truth.'
Christ, I thought, just what I don't need: a girl who wants to level with me, straighten out my life.
'Okay,' I said. 'You're very nice. You want to help. You're full of good advice. You'd even rechannel my career if I'd let you, steer me in the right direction, help me fulfill the promise of my talent. I really appreciate your sincerity, Kimberly.' I paused, and then I lied.
'Trouble is I like what I do. Believe it or not, I even like myself.'
'I'm sorry,' she said.
'Doesn't matter. I think now it's time for you to go.' She stared at me, eyes perplexed.
'The door's over there,' I said.
She stared awhile longer, then I saw her anger rise. I could actually see it come, roll slowly up her face, the way it sometimes does in a great actor at a crucial juncture in a play.
'I know where the goddamn door is.' She started toward it.
'I don't know why I came down here anyway. After the way you talked to me yesterday, like you thought I was some kind of dumb club slut or something. But still I liked you. Thought we could be friends. I see now that was a mistake.' She paused.
'You really are a nasty jerk, you know. So-best of luck, Barnett, with all your turgid photographs of empty streets.'
She had the door open, was about to step out, when suddenly I changed my mind.
'Shut it.'
'Don't worry. I don't slam doors.'
'Come back inside and shut it. Please.'
She glared at me, stepped back in, then stood with her back against the door@ 'Okay,' she said, 'what do you want?'
'You still want a portrait?'
'Damn straight I do.'
'Then maybe I'll shoot one for you,' I said.
'Maybe then we'll find out who you really are.'
'I know who I am.'
'Do you? You're an actress, right?' She nodded.
'That's why you want the head shots. Tell you something-I don't think much of actress photographs.'
'Neither do I,' she said.
'That's why I came to you.'
'So tell me-how you feel about acting?'
She thought a moment.
'It's the only thing on earth I really care about.'
'Gee whiz,' I said, 'I think I've heard that corny line before.'
She laughed.
'Guess I deserve that. After what I said to you. '
'Your manipulations were too transparent. But your angry moment at the door-I believed in that. The thing is, Kimberly, when I take a portrait, I don't let the person act, '
'How do you stop them?'
'There are ways.'
She smiled.
'I know what you're trying to do.'
'What am I trying to do?'
'Skate me off.'
She was right, but I wouldn't admit it.
'Now, why would I want to do a thing like that?'
'Maybe because you're afraid yourself,'
'Of what 'Taking my picture.' And then, when I scoffed: 'Well..
There was something taunting in her expression then, as if she were daring me to show her she was wrong. What she didn't know was that she was the second person in twenty four hours to accuse me of my- photographic cowardice, and I was getting pretty sick of hearing that and knowing it was true.
'Come back this afternoon at three o'clock,' I said, 'But I warn you-it's no picnic modeling for me.'
'I'm willing to work for it.'
'You'll work, all right.'
'Anything special you want me to wear?'
I shook my head.
'No makeup either. Show up on time, bring your face and call if you change your mind.
'A portrait session with The Great Photographer!' She smirked.
'I wouldn't cancel that in a million years.' it was after eleven when she finally left, which meant I had less than four hours to psych myself up One solution would be to shoot her without loading in any film. I could lie to her later, tell her the rolls got ruined at the lab.
But that was too easy. The real answer, I knew, was to actually take her portrait. My ability to do that, however, was dependent on whether she was the angel I'd been waiting for-the saving angel with the secret key who could unlock the blocking door.
I hoped desperately that she was, but I had little faith.
At two-thirty my hands began to shake. By a quarter to three I started to shiver. Then I looked out the window at the public thermometer across the street and discovered to my shame that it was 82 degrees.
What the hell was the matter with me? I was tired of panic attacks, tired of having to turn down beautiful women who begged me to take their pictures. I'd had it. today was the day. No matter what it cost me, today, I resolved, I would beat down the blocking door myself.
At 3:00 sharp my downstairs buzzer rang. Okay, I thought, here we go. I left my front door open a crack, then retired into my loft to wait.
She announced herself with a fanfare.
'Ta da!' she said, striking a pose just inside, Against my instructions she'd dressed up. She was decked out in a kinky downtown outfit, short black skirt, leather jacket and top, textured stockings and exaggerated spike- heeled shoes.
'Great entrance,' I said.
'Great outfit too. Now take it off. All of it.
She stared at me.
'Go on,' I said.
'Get undressed.'
'You're kidding!'
'Uh-uh. Hurry up. Everything but your underwear.'
'Hey, Geoffrey! I'm here to get my portrait shot.'
'You'll get your portrait shot, but without any armor on.'
She plucked at her jacket.
'You call this armor?'
'Look, kid-don't waste time. We'll do it my way, or we won't do it at all.' I paused.
'Unless, of course, you're afraid to show yourself.'
She looked hard at me.
'I'm not the one who's afraid.
'Prove it.' She hesitated, Then she smiled to herself. Then she obeyed. She undressed with marvelous nonchalance, taking off her garments piece by piece and dropping them into a heap on the floor.
I'd told her to stop at her underwear. As I suspected, she didn't wear a bra. I never intended that she strip
