Total pages in book: 79
Estimated words: 78054 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 390(@200wpm)___ 312(@250wpm)___ 260(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 78054 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 390(@200wpm)___ 312(@250wpm)___ 260(@300wpm)
We were doomed.
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
Brett
Kelly held her stomach, shaking her head. “Stop!” She had been laughing too hard. “Oh my God, Stefano, Mr. Big and Strong Macho Man is such a mama’s boy.”
I smirked. “Yeah, he is. I admit, I’m still struggling a little, but they’re happy, and we have to leave them alone and let them figure it out.”
She turned to me. “Why are you struggling?”
I shrugged. “Just changes, I suppose. Worry it won’t work and he’ll be hurt and lonelier than ever.”
“You have to take that chance sometimes.”
I glanced at her, but she had turned back to the front and was looking at the road. “Yeah, you do,” I said softly.
I opened my mouth to ask her if she was wanting to take that chance with me when she spoke.
“Okay, first up is the Bronx Fair. It’s only about twenty minutes from here. They have that great dinosaur display kids love.”
“Next?” I asked, knowing this wasn’t the time for any more personal conversation.
“The Applewood carnival. Then is the Rib Fest at Bankhead.”
“I am looking forward to that one. I plan on eating a lot of ribs once you’re done with pictures.”
“I hear the Bronx Fair has an entire candy tent. All the contestants vie for top prize.”
“Good thing my shorts have a drawstring. Between the candy and the ribs, I am gonna need the room.”
She laughed. “You’ll work it off traipsing behind me, helping. I remember there were times I didn’t get to eat for a whole day when I was helping Carl. We’d be so busy and caught up…” She trailed off.
“You miss it?” I asked, turning onto a gravel road that would lead to the first stop.
“I miss seeing new things. I don’t miss being treated badly,” she replied, not looking at me.
“You’ll see lots of new things today.”
She relaxed. “I’m looking forward to it.”
“Not as exotic as some of the locales you’re used to.”
She shook her head. “It’s not the sand and water that make the shoot. It’s the people and the small things you can elevate with a picture.” She sighed. “Carl and I always disagreed on that. To him, it wasn’t worth taking a shot unless everything was perfect. Life isn’t perfect, and sometimes that is the beauty we have to show.”
I pulled into the large field and found a parking spot. The place was already busy. I lifted her hand and kissed it. “Then let’s go find some beauty, Shutterbug.”
She nodded. “Let’s go.”
I was in awe of Kelly the entire day. She was warm and gracious, often stopping people, asking if she could take their picture, explaining it might be in the newspaper or on her web page. It was my job to get them to sign a waiver. Not a single person refused. Many asked if they could purchase copies. Already anticipating that, Charly had had business cards printed up, which I handed out like cash. Kelly took pictures of babies, kids, adults, families, couples, people on their own. Old people.
She found art in places I would never think to look. A half-eaten bowl of ice cream melting in the heat of the day. The way candy floss looked held up in the sunlight. A rusted tin can sitting on a fence post. A flag flying at sunset, the colors vivid in the fading light. She lay on the ground, taking pictures looking up at the dinosaur collection and the kids playing on them. Beautiful images of a mother holding her new baby, watching her toddler on the carousel with her father.
She snapped pictures of the arts and crafts, the rides, the candy tent. Me sampling treats in the candy tent. I sampled a lot. She had pictures of me with rib sauce all over my face. Holding a massive, caramelized beef rib, dripping with sauce, that we shared. We walked for miles, drank overpriced lemonade, ate more candy. Ribs. We devoured a brisket sandwich the size of my head. And everywhere we went, she captured moments in time.
We held hands. I stole kisses. Sweet ones. Sloppy ones. A few deep and passionate ones behind the Tilt-A-Whirl in the growing darkness.
Finally, we made our way back to the truck.
“My feet are sore,” I mused. “Yours must be killing you. I stood a lot of the time while you were running around.”
“A bit,” she admitted. “Your shoulder must be tired, carrying that bag all day.”
“It’s fine.”
She nudged me with her elbow. “I’d give you a shoulder rub if you played your cards right.”
“I’d rub your feet.” I winked at her. “Anything else that was sore too.”
I reached the truck and put the camera bag in the back. I turned to her, smiling and tapping the end of her nose. “Anything come to mind, Shutterbug?”
She tilted her head. “Nothing one of your infamous leg hitches couldn’t fix. I hear they make a girl feel better.”