Harold Beaumont's Bruises

First Day

LONG CHAPTER

"So just sit here and try not to get in anyone's way." I was instructed by Andy, a coach who works here at the Marley gym. I can barely hear Andy over the roar of the crowd, but what I do hear makes my stomach lurch with stress. Andy's comment makes my head whip around to look up at the towering wall of muscular meat with a head of dark hair and angry dark eyes. I feel my heart squeeze up in frustration and nerves at his horrible dictation.

    "Wait- what? I c-can't just take pictures from one angle! I need to move arou-" I try to shout over the noise of the crowd but Andy's gruff voice cuts me off.

    "I said to not to get in anyone's way. So stay put." Andy growls, his voice full of aggression, and tight with annoyance. Andy must have taken too many punches to the head because he must think I can just aim my camera, take one picture and it will be perfect. No, nothing is simple as that, and who wants to see a one sided view anyway?

    "The match is starting soon. Just snap away, and make sure they are good." Andy orders and I choke on a gasp of disbelief. He is serious. Before I can even muster up a word Andy takes off and disappears into the crowd of people. I sigh and roll my hazel eyes; my job just got a lot harder.

    After moving here to New Orleans I used the little money I had scraped together to get a plane ticket and an apartment. After I was all taped out of money I landed down this job at Marley gym. I am a photographer and like most starving artists (as I like to believe I am) I'm not in college, and I am taking any odd job that pays that comes my way.

This job is is a steady thing, the owner, who I have not meet yet wants to get the gym's name out there. So he or she or hired me to take pictures and keep their twitter and facebook and instagram accounts updated. I'm even doing head shots for the boxers and maybe helping out with an ad or two. Heck, what pleases them as long as I get my eleven fifty for every picture.

    So here I am, standing a hundred feet away from a huge boxing ring with my camera swinging around my neck. The arena as it is called is a huge room, with polished white walls and sparkling wooden floors. The ring is black and gives off the appearance that it is brand new and never has been used for fighting. Bleachers are pulled out of walls and cascade down and fill up the room even more. It looks like hundreds of people have turned up for this event, and they buzz and boost excitedly as they fill up the bleachers with homemade signs and snacks.

    I guess boxing is a local time passer here; why go out to the movies when you can watch boys beat each other senseless? Hey, whatever helps me get paid.

    "Missy, we need you to take a seat with the rest of the audience up there in the bleachers." A man scolds me who is in a blue button up and slacks with combed back brown hair .

    "I-I'm the new photographer, I'm allowed to be here. I'm suppose to be here." I state with as much power as I muster in his intimidating presence. I feel like such a kid who isn't suppose to be here, everyone is trying to keep me in one spot like a child. That just makes my job ten times harder, because how am I possibly going to capture a good picture if I am restricted?

    "Then at least don't be in the middle of the floor. You'll upset the customers who pay for their seats, and the last thing we need is a jealous customer upset, and bitchin the crowd. Come sit down at the VIP section." The man, whoever he is points at the folded chairs neatly lined up by the bleachers and glares at me. It is even farther than this spot!

    I open my mouth to protest but I can tell by that clenched jaw and pair of stormy green eyes it is not an option up for debate. I sigh and move across the floor and park my dark denim covered butt in the metal chair. I run a hand through my light brown hair and try to figure out the best angle to take a good picture from here. It seems impossible, am I being set up to fail? Am I just wasting my time and effort only to get fired for cruddy pictures?