“Yeah, God forbid I ruin the ’do.”
The photographer’s studio was a converted empty space in a building up at Camp Kioga, clear on the extreme north end of the lake. Fortunately for the Z4, the roads were kept plowed and sanded, since Camp Kioga had recently become a four-season resort. Although it had begun life as a summer camp for families in the 1920s, these days, it was open year-round, a haven for people who enjoyed winter sports. The operation was run by a local couple, Connor and Olivia Davis. Olivia was a member of the tight-knit Bellamy clan, first cousin to Daisy Bellamy, who was doing Bo’s publicity shots.
“Daisy’s going to show us just how good she is,” Bo assured Kim. “This is a big break for her.”
“I don’t mind giving her a break,” Kim said. “Since she’s new, you might have to be patient with her. It could take all afternoon to get the shots we need.”
“Hey, if I can sit through Goldi’s salon, I can sit through a photo shoot.”
“I won’t forget you said that.”
They passed under the arched sign. Wrought iron twig lettering spelled out, Camp Kioga, Est’d. 1924. “Everything looks so different,” Kim remarked.
“It’s all been renovated.”
The original main pavilion now housed a restaurant. The deck had been expanded, and near the lake was a covered gazebo with a sizable hot tub with puffs of steam rising into the afternoon sky. Bo glanced over to see that Kim’s face had turned thoughtful. “My parents sent me to summer camp here when I was little,” she said. “I used to love it so much.”
He tried to imagine what summer camp was like. For him, summers were a time for hustling, so he could earn enough to pay his Little League fees. He used to work for tips at the auto-detailing place, or go door-to-door, asking for odd jobs. A summer of just being a kid was unimaginable.
This made him wonder what AJ’s summers were like. It was a good bet there weren’t any trips to camp.
Daisy’s studio was a big, mostly empty room in a building constructed in the old days of the camp. Surrounded by windows, the studio was filled with the white light of winter, streaming in through the windows and reflecting off the frozen lake. Daisy and her crew were busy getting ready. She had an array of lights set up on tripods, reflecting shields of all sizes and a variety of backdrops. Fans and props lay on a table near a laptop setup. The old wooden floor creaked as Bo and Kim stepped into the room.
The minute she spotted Bo, Daisy’s jaw dropped. “Ho-lee cow,” she said.
“Yeah, two hours of being fussed at in a salon, and I’m a natural beauty.”
“I wouldn’t go that far,” Daisy said. “You’re going to need hair and makeup first. Then we’ll talk about natural beauty.” She introduced them to Chantal, the wardrobe and makeup stylist, and Zach, her assistant.
Daisy was all pro, and Bo could sense Kim’s confidence in her growing. After seeing the setup of cameras and lighting, the computer, electrical cords and reflectors, she relaxed and asked how she could help out.
Bo thought Daisy was kidding about the makeup. Then Chantal opened a huge tackle box full of the stuff—lipstick and brushes, pots of color, clippers and cotton balls and strange devices. He looked at Kim, who didn’t say a word, just nodded at a stool.
“Oh, man,” he said. But he cooperated. This was his career, after all. His future. He sat through the humiliating ritual, resigned to his fate. After the salon ordeal, nothing else that happened to him was apt to freak him out. He mentally retreated to his happy place again while Chantal brushed on face makeup called “foundation” and traced around his lips with a pencil. But as in the salon, his retreat didn’t help much. When she came at his eyes with something pointy, he put his foot down.
“Uh-uh, no way,” he declared.
“She’s almost done,” Kim said encouragingly. “Be still a few minutes longer.”
“Forget it. You’re not putting eyeliner on me. I’m done.” All this stuff was starting to make his skin crawl. He peeled off the towel they’d put around him. “If I’m not pretty enough now, I never will be.”
She surrendered with a little wave of her hand. “You’re the client.”
As the day progressed, he sensed a subtle shift in their relationship. He’d allowed himself to be transformed. He trusted her. And he could tell, by the way she looked at him when she didn’t know he was watching, that she thought he was sexy. Damn, he hoped he was right about that.
Daisy stepped in and started lining up the shots, assisted by Zach. “You look amazing,” she remarked.
“You think?” He grinned, relaxing a little now that sharp-object-girl had backed off.
Kim nodded in agreement. “I’ve always thought there was something weirdly attractive about a guy in a baseball uniform. Couldn’t say why. Under any other circumstances, a guy would look like a dork in knickers and knee socks. But a baseball uniform…” She and Daisy nodded their approval. He could tell the two of them were going to get along fine. Both were determined to make him look larger-than-life. Like a baseball god, Kim said.
What a world, he thought. One day he was mopping beer off the floor of a dive bar. A few months later, he was being made into a god. The moment he slipped on the coveted gray-with-navy pinstripes, he felt like a different person. The uniform reminded him why he was doing all this in the first place.
“I am so ready to just play baseball,” he muttered.
“You know there’s more to this career than playing baseball.”
“I had no idea how much more.”
“The photos are critical,” Kim said. “A great photo can really enhance a career, assuming the player has the talent to back it up.”
“It should be all about talent.”
“You know it’s not,” she said. “Image is everything. Remember
