Not that I was ever really alone, per se. There's always a woman or two around willing to keep me company. Sure, I’ve had my temptations as all men have. But I've learned my lesson because temptations have never served me well in the past. I'm not into drama. I have no desire to be tangled in a web of deceit. It never ends well, and quite frankly, I'm tired of bad endings. Things in my life are different now. I'm looking forward to starting anew, beginning a new chapter in my life. I'm not getting any younger. If there's one thing I've learned from past, failed relationships, its control. This time I'll be the one in control of the ending.
A knock on the front door interrupts my thoughts. I'm not expecting anyone.
When I gaze through the peephole, I see her — half-naked, standing on the steps, fiddling with her hair. I open the door.
“David, you’re home. Where have you been? You haven’t been answering my texts.”
Shoving her way past me, she strides into the living room, dumps her overstuffed tote bag on the floor, and proceeds to flop on my couch.
“Kayla, how are you? I haven't seen you in a while.”
“I’ve been sooo busy. Working two jobs is total madness,” she says, chomping a wad of gum. She starts blowing pink bubbles, smacking them against her lips. “What have you been up to these days?” Another loud popping sound as she reaches for a magazine on the table.
“I’ve been busy with things. I’m getting ready to leave town soon.”
“You sure travel a lot. Where are you off to now? The jungle again?”
“How’d you guess?”
“So, when do I get to go?” she simpers.
“Kayla, we’ve already been—.”
“I know, I know. But I could sure use a vacation right about now.”
“So, what’s going on, what do you need?”
“A few photos by the pool. I have a new client requesting a summer vibe look,” she says, flipping through the pages.
“Didn’t we already take a bunch of pool shots?”
“Uh huh, but that was last year when I was a brunette. They want current. I’ve lost like fifteen pounds since then.” She jumps up from the couch and does a pirouette in her too-tight pink tank top and even tighter white shorts.
“I see that. You look good.” I repress a smile.
“Not good enough to take on vacation, though.” Crossing her arms, she pouts in disappointment.
“Kayla, come on now. I'm old enough to be your father.”
“So, what does that matter? We’ve been friends forever.” Batting her lashes, she makes that little jerking move she does with her head. So full of herself, miss sassy pants. I’m sure her type of attitude is necessary for her line of work—a fine line between cocky and confident.
For the record, I’ve only known her for two years, and I have to say her feisty demeanor comes through in all her photos. She's lucky to be so photogenic. Most girls would kill to look like her, and most men would kill to be in my position.
But I'm no fool. I've been nothing but professional with Kayla. It's one line I will never cross. She's opened up to me over the years, about her past and her struggles. I've tried helping her many times, tried steering her in the right direction. But she's headstrong. Sadly, she’s learning the hard way. At this point, all I can be is a shoulder to lean on and sometimes cry on.
But today, I will do as she asks. Without me, she would never have been hired by the agency. They loved the photos of her the moment they saw her portfolio. They told her the photographer has a real eye and knows what he is doing. Of course, I know what I'm doing, even more so today.
Kayla grabs her bag, I gather my equipment, and we head outside to the pool. She shows me all of her outfits, draping them over the lounge chair. She trusts my choices in swimwear and follows my commands for positions. She says I always know what’s best and she’s right.
While I adjust the reflector stand, Kayla sashays into the cabana to change clothes. It’s another beautiful spring day in California. The sun shines bright in the clear blue sky, and the colorful flowers surrounding the pool provide the perfect backdrop for a photoshoot.
When the cabana door opens, Kayla struts across the concrete in a pair of high-heeled sandals. She has donned the red string bikini with the short, sheer sarong tied just below her waist.
As I gaze into the lens, Kayla swings her long, wavy hair over her shoulder and thrusts out her hip. Tilting her head to the side, she flashes me a dazzling smile.
Focus, I force myself. You need to focus.
7
Valerie
David had insisted I fly to LA that day so we could be on the same flight to Costa Rica. He figured it would be easier on me since it was my first time in Central America. He also didn’t want to chance us being separated from each other.
After flying into LAX at ten in the morning, we grabbed a quick bite at the airport and then boarded our flight. We didn't arrive in San Jose until almost eight that night.
There was not much to see in the back of a taxi cab as we made our way to our B&B. Salsa music streamed from the radio, and I had no idea of the meaning of the words they were singing. I hadn’t had any time to take a crash course in Spanish. Thankfully David had told me he knew a few phrases, enough of the basics to
