Chapter 51: Revelation
Three Days Later...
It took Mark half an hour to find the place. And it had everything to do with the fact that Riley was holding the map. From the outside, it looked like a dump: the brickwork was chipped and dirty, there were few windows and the stairwell was old and creaky. But it was right in the heart of Miami City. He was beginning to worry who he'd made a business deal with.
As he glanced over to the front seat, Riley looked apprehensive. He threw her a confident look. "This is it, you'll do great."
Riley opened the door of his big escalade and frowned up at the rotting apartment building. "Are you sure about this? It doesn't look like a studio."
"It's nicer on the inside," He insisted, placing his hand on her shoulder and leading her towards the huge double doors. He had his fingers crossed that it really was nicer on the insider... Reaching out, he rang on the doorbell. After a full minute, the door swung open.
Standing underneath the doorway was a middle aged man, who was desperately trying to hold onto his blonde hair, with streaks of 'old man' silver through it. He had wrinkles under his eyes as he smiled from underneath his square shaped spectacles.
He extended his hand, "Eric Jones. You must be... Mark?" He nodded as he shook the man's hand. He offered it to Riley. "And you're Riley Stuart. Pleasure to meet you."
She shook his hand, "The pleasure is all mine."
Eric held open the door and motioned them inside. They stepped into what looked like a stripped down warehouse. It was just concrete floors, metal beams and dust. They followed him across the huge open expanse towards a set of spiraling wooden stairs.
"You'll have to excuse the place," Eric insisted, shoving his hands into his jean pockets as he walked. "I haven't got around to renovating down here. I've only done the top two floors."
Relief washed over him as he climbed the stairs and he was welcomed to a warm modern-industrial designed home. Everything was made from raw materials like metal and wood but it was filled with soft colors and plush furnishing, making it feel homey. There was a huge fireplace heating the open living space, with the floor to ceiling windows fogging up. He even had modern light bulbs hanging low from the high ceiling. Eric continued past the second floor and up to the third, which was an equally huge studio, set up with full professional photography equipment and a plain white backdrop.
On every spare space on the wall there were photos. One wall was covered in colorful landscape shots, from all different locations and seasons. One wall was plastered in black and white photos of city streets. The third wall was taken up by the backdrop and the forth was half filled with very raw photos of many different types of people.
Eric motioned to the forth wall. "This is what I've been working on. I've been trying to capture that raw beauty that people have. When I saw you in Marie Claire, I knew you were perfect for my next model."
Riley seemed in awe at the collection, "They're beautiful."
"Thank you," Eric gave her another warm smile. "The bathroom is just over there," He motioned to the door a few feet away. The outfit I have for you in on the rack and if you could please remove any make-up you're wearing, that would be great."
Riley nodded and slipped away. Eric cleared his throat, "Did you want a coffee?"
Mark lifted a brow, "No thanks." Eric nodded and set off and started fiddling with the settings on his handheld camera. Mark glanced around at the room, taking in all the photos. "How long have you been a photographer for?"
Eric didn't look up from the camera as he spoke, "Only a few years. I started my own business in 1998." Mark nodded. That was the year that he'd signed Riley. He'd been so desperate for models and when he'd seen her down on the beach, not far from where he lived, he had to ask. He couldn't believe to this day that she'd agreed.
There was a light crash as Eric dropped the lens straight off the camera. He cursed and bent over and picked it up, examining it to make sure it was okay. He caught Mark's frown. "Sorry, I'm a little nervous."
"You're nervous?" He was confused, never hearing of the photographer being nervous.
Eric wiped his palms on his jeans and placed the lens back on the camera. "I've- ah- never worked with someone quite as popular as Riley."
"Right..." Mark uttered. Luckily, at that moment, she stepped out of the bathroom wearing a simple pair of jeans and a white tank top. She didn't even have shoes. Her face looked plain, but still beautiful, as she'd taken all her makeup off and her blonde hair looked natural, just down and curly.
Eric seemed satisfied, "Fantastic. Why don't you hop against the backdrop? It's going to be really simple. I'll tell you exactly what to do." Riley did as she was told, standing with arms by her side against the white backdrop as Eric flicked on the bright flood lights.
The photo-shoot seemed more simple and relaxed than others. Mark had a feeling that's how Eric wanted it to be. He did a lot of close ups, focusing on her facial structure and complete natural beauty. Most of the time he got her to play with her emotions. Sometimes she'd smile and laugh. Others Eric would get her to look at him and have a neutral face. Riley seemed at ease in the shoot, which was great. And she was holding up well for someone who was completely jetlag. She'd gotten off the plane from London last night and stayed in a hotel here in Miami for the night to have the shoot early this morning.
By the time it wrapped up and Riley had changed, Eric had invited them downstairs into his living room to look at the photos. He seemed like a nice man who was just trying to make his business work. Either way, it was clear from his luxurious house that he had plenty of money.
They ended up sitting on the cream sofa, picking their favorite photos from the bunch that Eric displayed on the projector, drinking coffee. After a few laughs at some of the interesting faces Riley had pulled during the shoot, they went to leave.
Mark shook Eric's hand, "It was a pleasure working with you. It's great to be able to see some of the photos before they're printed."
Eric smiled and nodded, "Not a problem." He looked over his shoulder and as Mark turned he saw Riley reaching out towards a huge bookcase full of photo albums. Eric looked horrified that she was about to touch them but before either of them could say anything she'd already grabbed one and opened it to the first page.
A firm frown set over her face. Mark stepped forwards, "Riley, you shouldn't be-"
"This is me...." She mumbled. She suddenly began tearing through the album, flicking over page after page at a rapid rate.
Mark took another step forwards, "What are you-"
She shoved the album in his hands and pulled out another one, identical to it. As he looked down he saw a photograph of Riley from her very first photo-shoot that was used as an advertisement for summer vacations to Miami. He remembered it well because she'd been so nervous. As he flicked through he saw dozens of photos of her from all the professional work she'd done. It seemed to be in chronological order.
"What is this?" Riley seemed confused as she flipped through photo after photo, eyes skirting across the pages in shock.
She glanced up at Eric. He adjusted his modern frames and shoved his hands in his jean pockets. He looked like he was hiding something. Hesitantly he said in a weak voice, "My real name isn't Eric... its Damien Stuart... Riley, I-I'm your father."
They both drew in a sharp breath. No. He was so sweet and innocent. Mark didn't picture him as the type to abandon his child. Now that he mentioned it, they did look alike. They both had blonde hair and blue eyes and... the same warm smile. And... when he'd asked him how long he'd been a photographer he'd said since 1998. Could that mean... that he'd started the business purely to find Riley as a model? It would also explain why he'd been so nervous. He was meeting his daughter.
Riley dropped the album. "No..."
Damien had a sense of desperation as he spoke, "I know I haven't always done right by you-"
Riley looked both furious and hurt as she stepped towards him, "You left me in an alleyway, for dead!"
He held out his hands, as if he had nothing to hide. "I know... I'm not the same person, now. I was a complete dickhead. I just want to make it up to you. I just want to say I'm sorry."
Riley started to look dizzy and reached out to the wall for support. Mark darted forwards and helped support her weight, noticing the tears springing in her eyes. Her voice was full of horror as she whispered to him, "Was this your idea?"
He shook his head firmly. This was some crazy stunt Damien pulled. He'd never do something like that to Riley. "I swear to god, I had no idea. I thought he was another client."
Riley looked back up at... her father... He had tears in his own eyes. "Do you think you could just pull a stunt like this? And I'd forgive you?"
Damien shook his head, "No... I just wanted you to know that I never stopped loving you. And I hope that one day you can forgive me."
Riley stepped out of Mark's grip, grabbed her bag and headed for the stairs, too overwhelmed to even reply to him. She didn't even look back. "Mark, let's go."