What things do you love about your job?
"Harry? What's wrong with you?"
The photographer growls, shrugging as he walked towards me.
"What?" I asked, and I regret it.
"What? You asked me 'what'? Huh? Harry, I said smile! You need to smile!" The old man started yelling and pointing his finger at me.
"Please don't do that." I stated.
"Don't do what? You do not give me orders here, you understand?" His frown was deep, gritting his teeth as he talk.
"You're pointing your finger at me and I don't like it, okay?" I shrugged.
"Woah, woah! What's with this scene, huh?" Garry, my manager interrupted— or saved my life.
"Let's all calm down, yeah?" Garry added.
"Well your kid doesn't seems well today?" The photographer muttered.
"Oh? I'm really sorry, Mr. Dale. I'm really really sorry." Garry is the best in calming every angry person he's with. "Something happened last night and it's very personal—"
"Garry, we do not talk about that at work." I muttered.
"Yeah. That's the point! I don't give a damn on whatever happened last night. This is work, so you better work!" Mr. Dale shook his head, crossing his arm on his chest.
"Yeah, we'll fix this immediately. I'm sorry." Garry bow down his head, giving his apologies to that old faggot who walks away, rolling his eyes.
"Harry?"
"Okay, okay! I'm sorry. I didn't mean to be sad and broken." I said with a dry voice. I guess my body is now reacting with this very thick and exotic clothes I'm wearing. The four layers of clothes is starting to irritate me but, I have to do this because this is my job.
"I thought you said you're okay to still do this project?" Garry asked, slightly frowning.
"I'm probably just drunk when you've asked me if I still want to do this project last night, eh?" I sighed.
"Come on man, I understand you, okay? We'll get over this. I'll give you a one month vacation after this, is that good?"
"Hell yeah, that's good!" I nod but still uninterested to have conversation with other people.
"Then let's do this right! Do this right, man. Be a professional because, that's what you are." Garry jabbed me slightly.
"I'm flattered." I scowls.
"Okay. Do this job, alright? Give that old faggot a smile and then you can have your vacation anytime." He clapped his hand, excited to finally sit down on his chair where he just watch and earn money.
"Is your kid okay now?" Mr. Dale asked and I heard their short conversation from a distance where Garry keeps apologizing.
Fuck it.
We continue the photoshoot and Mr. Dale is kind of happy about that. This old man love his job and I have to respect it.
I don't have the will to do anything! It's like I'm fucking tired and I just want to— fuck! I do not know what things I want to do.
I just want her back. I miss her already, everything about her. I would surrender and give up on my job just for her, build our family in our own house and just get happy like...fuck!
"Okay, 1...2...3..."
I flashed a smile into the camera. A lot of smiles after every three seconds the photographer counts; a wide smile and a crooked smile.
Smile were the best weapon a model possess, but in my case, it's my fake smile that will give me money.