Russell's Book of Secrets Page 5

  * * *

  Mr. Whitehead’s office was dark and dusty. It looked as if it hadn’t been inhabited for years. There was safety equipment and random books strewn about the office on various tables and shelves. I shifted uncomfortably in my seat. I hated waiting, especially when I had work to finish so I could possibly sneak in some study time.

  The door opened and filled the room with the sound of lift truck traffic. After a few seconds, it closed and I heard Mr. Whitehead’s slow shuffle as he made his way to his desk. He was an old Caucasian man that probably should have retired several years ago. He’d gone completely bald and his skin was riddled with age spots.

  “Sorry about your wait, Derrick. I had an issue I had to attend to at the last minute. What can I do for you?”

  I sat up in the chair and cleared my throat. “No problem. I wanted to know if there would be an opportunity for overtime this week. I didn’t see the sign-up sheet in the usual spot outside your office.”

  “That’s because I didn’t put it out this week,” said Mr. Whitehead. He leaned back in his chair and folded his arm across his potbelly. “I’m afraid we are over-budget for overtime for the remainder of the year.”

  “The remainder of the year?” I asked in shock. “But it’s only the beginning of June!”

  “I can read a calendar, Derrick.”

  I looked around the room and felt my chest tightening. How the hell was I going to pay for school if I couldn’t get any more overtime? I was depending on that money.

  “Can I just work the extra hours without the time-and-a-half?” I asked.

  “I’m afraid that’s against corporate rules,” said Mr. Whitehead.

  “Well,” I started before Mr. Whitehead cut me off.

  “Look son, I’m afraid there’s nothing I can do. Looks like you’re just gonna have to find yourself a second job.”

  I sat in the chair in silence. I couldn’t believe this shit. Find a second job? When the hell did I have time for that? I was barely surviving as it is.

  “You should get going, son. You have a lot of work to do.” Mr. Whitehead sat up in his chair and began to peck at his keyboard.

  I stood from my seat and walked out of his office, slamming the door behind me. I jumped into the driver’s seat of my lift truck and turned the key. The engine roared to life and I sped off down the aisle.

  “Shit!” I exclaimed as I banged on the steering wheel… and then I remembered. It was as if the business card weighed a ton sitting in my back pocket. Maybe I had a way out.

  I parked my lift truck by the break room and stepped inside. The room was empty, so I decided to make the call. I walked over to the phone in the corner of the room and dialed Mr. Graves’ number with a trembling finger. I didn’t expect him to answer since it was so late, but I felt that if I left him a voicemail it would at least ease my mind temporarily.

  “Hello?” he answered.

  “Um,” I struggled to find the words, “Mr. Graves, you may not remember me, but this is Derrick, from J.R. Cricket’s yesterday.”

  “Oh yea!” he said. “I remember you. I could never forget you or those eyes.”

  “I want to take you up on the scholarship offer. Where do I apply?”

  “Come to my office at 9am. The address on the business card I gave you.”

  “Okay,” I said. “Thank you, sir.”

  “No… Thank you.”

  I hung up the phone and stared at it momentarily. I should have been happy but for some reason I felt as if I’d just sold my soul to the devil.

  As I continued to work out my shift, my mind slowly came to terms with the decision I’d just made. Maybe Tosha was right. This could be some sort of divine intervention on my behalf. Lord knows I needed a break.

  * * *

  I pulled up outside the abandoned warehouse and placed my car in park. I glanced at Mr. Graves’ business card and matched the number from the address on the card to the number on the building. I was definitely at the right address, but this place looked suspect at best – not even considering that it was in the heart of one of the shadiest places in town.

  After stepping out of the car, I surveyed my surroundings. I spotted a Church’s Chicken restaurant down the road, and a free clinic directly across the street. Nice to know that I can get a 2-piece and an abortion if I need, I thought to myself.

  The warehouse was part brick and had rusted steel beams exposed. The concrete in the parking lot was cracked all over and weeds had grown up through the cracks. I made my way to the front door and pushed it open. The door groaned on its hinges but gave way to me and I slipped inside.

  My mind was screaming to turn around and leave but then I remembered that this was the best option I had right now to pay my tuition and bills. I’d just make this happen as quickly as possible. I’d go in, complete the paperwork, and then leave. It shouldn’t take more than thirty minutes tops.

  I walked up the stairs at the end of the hallway and knocked on the door to Suite 200. There was a simple piece of white paper taped to a metal door that read: ALLISTAR MEDIA & ENTERTAINMENT.

  The door eventually swung open and Mr. Graves greeted me with a smile.

  “Good morning!” he said.

  “Hi,” I said nervously.

  Mr. Graves stepped aside and ushered me into the suite. I walked into what appeared to be a photography studio. The studio was one room that resembled an industrial loft. At the far end of the room, floor-to-ceiling windows met a ceiling that was ordained with exposed pipes and track lighting. To the right of the door was a black leather couch and across from that was a white backdrop situated between spotlights.

  “Have a seat, Derrick.”

  I spun around to see that Mr. Graves was sitting at his desk to the left of where we entered the room, and was motioning towards the guest chair across from him.

  “Thank you, Mr. Graves,” I replied as I sat uncomfortably in the chair.

  “No need for the formalities,” he said with a grin that exposed an open-faced gold tooth. “You can call me Walter.”

  “Okay,” I said. My heart was beating so hard I thought that it would burst from my chest at any moment. I felt the rugged cloth of my jeans as I scrubbed my sweaty palms on my thigh.

  “So I take it you’re here to start the application process for the scholarship?” asked Walter.

  “Yes,” I answered. “Can you tell me a little more about exactly what it is first?”

  “Absolutely, Derrick.” Walter leaned back in his chair and pivoted from side-to-side as he touched the tips of his fingers together. “It’s sort of a modeling competition. I run a media and entertainment company, if you hadn’t already discovered that, and I’m always on the search for new talent.”

  “But I’m not a model,” I interrupted.

  “Well, maybe not, but you could be if you wanted. You definitely have what it takes. I could tell from just looking at you that day at J.R. Cricket’s. All we need to do is take some test shots, I’ll submit them to this modeling agency that’s hosting the competition, and if you win we’ll both get paid. It’s completely win-win.”

  “How much is the prize?” I asked.

  “Well, this is a scholarship and I understand you’re in school and need the money, so this is what I’ll do. I can give you one thousand dollars up front for working with me today and if you win the competition you’ll get two thousand dollars for a total scholarship package of three thousand dollars. Now doesn’t that sound good?”

  I tried to swallow but it was difficult because my mouth was as dry as a sandbox. “That’s a pretty large scholarship,” I said.

  Walter sat up and folded his arms on the top of the desk. “Well, you are a special candidate, Derrick. I handpicked you and I don’t do that often. I see a lot of potential in you, son and I want to see you get somewhere someday.”

  It seemed as if Walter really cared about my welfare. Maybe I coul
d trust him after all. “So what’s next?” I asked.

  Walter grabbed a single piece of paper and placed it in front of me along with a pen. “Just sign the release and we can get started.”

  The page was full of small type with a line for my signature and the date at the bottom.

  “No need to read the entire thing. It’s only standard legal jargon. It just says that you give my company consent to publish the pictures we take today for the competition, blah blah blah.”

  I grabbed the pen with an unsteady hand. “Oh okay,” I replied. With a deep breath, I signed my name at the bottom of the form.

  Walter snatched the paper with a grin, exposing his gold tooth, and filed it away in the cabinet behind his desk. “Shall we get started?” he asked as he stood from his seat.

  “You want to start today?” I asked.

  “No better time than the present,” said Walter. He pointed to the white backdrop and said, “Let’s do some test shots. Stand over there.”

  I walked over to the white backdrop and stood uncomfortably in the middle of the screen. Walter walked over and flipped on the lights situated on either side of the screen. He grabbed an expensive looking camera and stood back a few feet. I felt uncomfortable as he began to snap pictures and the flash blinded me.

  “Why don’t you move around a little,” he said. “Give me some variety. I bet we can win this competition but we need a good picture.”

  This went on for about ten minutes and twenty frames before I started to feel comfortable with taking the pictures. I thought to myself that I was overreacting and it wasn’t as bad as I thought it would be.

  After the fiftieth frame, Walter stretched his arms in the air and yawned loudly. “These are great pictures but we need to try something different if we’re going to win this competition.”

  “Sure,” I said. “This isn’t as bad as I thought it would be. I’m actually having a good time.”

  Walter smiled at my comment. “Great. You have a nice body too,” he said while biting his bottom lip. “Take your shirt off. Let’s take some shots like that.”

  “Okay,” I said and lifted my shirt over my head and threw it to the floor.

  Walter snapped about ten more frames before I heard another heavy sigh from behind the camera. “What’s wrong now?” I asked.

  “I still feel like something is missing,” Walter said while holding the camera in one hand and tapping his cheek with the other as if he was consumed in thought.

  “Am I doing something wrong?” I asked.

  “Not quite,” said Walter. “We just need to try something else. Take your pants off.”

  “What?”

  “Take your pants off. Let’s try some underwear shots.”

  “No,” I commanded. My back stiffened and my stomach dropped to my knees.

  “Look, do you want to win the scholarship or not?”

  “You didn’t say I would take pictures in my underwear. I’m not comfortable doing that.”

  “That’s fine,” said Walter as he placed the lens cap back on his camera. “Suit yourself. There are lots of other guys I can call to get this money.”

  I frowned and felt my eyes well with tears. I really needed this money or I was going to get kicked out of school. If I win this competition, then maybe it will have been worth it.

  “Okay,” I said in a low tone as I unzipped my jeans and they fell to the floor, exposing my black hip briefs. It’s a good thing I wore my nice underwear today.

  “Are you sure about this?” asked Walter. “I don’t want you to think I’m forcing you to do anything you don’t want to do. I’m not asking you to do anything unreasonable. Lots of models photograph in their underwear and even nude. If Calvin Klein calls you for a shoot and you turn him down because it’s an underwear ad, you could miss a huge opportunity.”

  I swallowed hard. “I’m sure,” I lied. I wasn’t sure at all; I just needed the money.

  As the camera flashed, I became more and more comfortable and less upset with myself. I tried to will away my frustration and embarrassment by focusing on the ends and hoping that they would justify these means.

  Walter sighed again and dropped the camera to his side.

  “What now?” I asked in an agitated tone.

  Silently, Walter walked over to me and tugged at my underwear, exposing the lines of my pelvic region. My heart raced as he stood back with his arms folded. He walked up to me again and slowly lowered my underwear until they fell to the floor around my feet. I closed my eyes and held my breath. I wished that I could run away but I was in too deep. All I wanted to do was make my parents proud of me as they watched over me in Heaven. What would they think of me now?

  My body began to tremble uncontrollably. Walter grabbed my shoulders in both hands. “Relax,” he whispered to me with a smile. I opened my eyes and immediately looked away. I couldn’t bear to look this man in the face.

  He stepped back and slowly began taking pictures. As the camera flashed, he ordered me to move about the canvas. Bend over, turn around, sit down, and get on your knees. The longer we did this the easier it got. I eventually stopped trembling and managed not to cry. When Walter finally stood up and informed me that the shoot was a wrap, I almost collapsed with relief.

  Hurriedly, I grabbed my clothes and dressed while Walter downloaded the pictures to his computer. I walked over and stood next to him.

  “These are amazing,” he said.

  I stood in silence, not wanting to thank him for the compliment. At the beginning of the film, I saw a beautiful young guy with an even light complexion, wavy and neatly cropped hair, and gray eyes swirled with hints of green and hazel. As the film rolled on and my clothes became scarcer, I noticed my smile and the life in my eyes slowly fade into a look of despair and desperation. The only consolation I felt was that this person standing there in the nude wasn’t me. He didn’t look like me at all. The light was gone, his personality was gone, and he was just an empty shell of a naked man caught in the lens of a camera.

  “We got some really good stuff. It’ll be hard to choose which ones will go in the publication.” Walter reached into the top drawer of his desk and pulled out a checkbook. After a few seconds, he ripped a check from the top and handed it to me. “Per our agreement, there’s your check for one thousand dollars.”

  “Thank you,” I said as I stared at the check.

  “Look,” said Walter. “Don’t feel bad. You have a lot of talent and you’re going somewhere in life, I already know it. Just don’t lose that personality and aura that initially drew me to you.”

  I looked up at Walter with a blank expression. “Are we done for today?” I asked.

  Walter shrugged. “I suppose. I’ll be in touch.”

  I walked out the door and when it closed behind me, I ran down the stairs to my car. My nostrils were flaring and I was breathing heavy but it wasn’t because I was out of breath from running. I was crying. What had I done?

  I threw the check into the passenger seat and peeled out of the parking lot.

  * * *

  The summer semester had come and gone and I hadn’t heard anything else from Walter. I didn’t know if I won the competition or if there ever really was a competition. I cashed the check and paid my tuition but I still had to work to pay my bills and save for fall semester’s tuition. I felt trapped in a never-ending spiral. I worked to live and lived to work. I wasn’t enjoying life and my best years were slipping away from me.

  I sat in the library at a computer terminal. It was time to register for fall classes. I logged into our registration system when an error message filled the screen.

  “You’ve got to be kidding me,” I said out loud.

  It was no joke. Bad luck had quickly become my best friend. I’d lost my scholarship due to my lousy academic performance last semester; a direct result of my crazy work schedule. If I didn’t come up with the missing money
by the first day of fall classes, my entire schedule would be canceled.

  My phone buzzed on the desk next to the computer just as I was logging out. It was Walter. The universe must have been playing some kind of sick joke on me. I answered the call.

  “Hello.”

  “Hi Derrick, it’s Walter.”

  “Hi Walter.”

  “Look, I have some good and bad news.”

  “Okay,” I said.

  “The bad news is that you didn’t win the competition.”

  “Figures,” I mumbled. I walked outside the library to talk in private.

  “What was that?” he asked.

  “Nothing,” I replied.

  “Oh okay,” he continued, “well you didn’t win the competition but I have another opportunity for you that could be even more lucrative than that whack competition.”

  I breathed deeply. “What is it?”

  “You ever thought about dancing?” he asked.

  “What kind of dancing?”

  “The exotic kind,” he said.

  “Walter, NO,” I replied sternly. “I’m not interested. I didn’t like the outcome the last time we got together and I’m definitely not doing this. You got me pegged for the wrong kind of guy.”

  “You already took the nude pictures,” said Walter. “You don’t even know where those pictures went. You didn’t even ask.”

  “Where did they go?” I asked.

  “You should have read your contract,” he said.

  “You said I didn’t have to!” I yelled into the phone.

  “Look, I don’t have time for this. If you’re not interested in making money then I’m not interested in you. I hope you have all your tuition money this semester.”

  The line went dead. Walter hung up on me. I gripped the phone so hard in my hands, I felt like it was going to break in half. “DAMMIT!” I yelled as I stormed off to my apartment.

  * * *

  I rubbed my temples as I tried to slow my breathing. I was sitting at my desk in my bedroom. It was dark outside and the only light in my room was my desk lamp. So far I’d been denied a payday advance, a private loan at five banks, and the family members that answered the phone when I called couldn’t or wouldn’t help me. I’d exhausted all my possibilities… except one.

  No, no, no! I thought to myself. You can’t do it. It’s not worth it.