Page 7 of The Keeper and I
He smacked his hand on the bar, and she started. He shot her a brief, apologetic look. “I, uh…gotta take a piss. I’ll be right back.”
With that, he got to his feet and headed to the back of the pub.
Chapter 2
“Excellent,Laci.That’sgorgeous!”
Laci’s smile widened at her photographer’s praise. She let the shutter click two more times before she changed the angle of her head to create more space between her jaw and shoulder. She filled the space with her arm, bringing her hand to her hair and creating a triangle, then she pushed her chin out an inch.
“Adorable, I love it,” her photographer crooned.
Her name was Myla Berry, and her project—a high-fashion style photoshoot celebrating diversity in the modeling industry—had Laci sold the moment she heard about it. She was one of several plus-size models included, but there were also many models of color and models with disabilities as well. Myla herself was a Black woman who hadn’t started pursuing photography in earnest until her fifties. She now had a London studio, and her work was featured in magazines all over the world. She was a testament to what defying the norms could do, and she was eager to help others as well.
“Last frame,” Myla said, and Laci held her final pose, schooling her face to look more sultry. “Stunning.”
Laci sat up and beamed. “You know, I think you said something along those lines for every shot.”
“Well, it’s true,” Myla said. “You look beautiful in all of them. Which I believe I can take a bit of credit for.”
Laci chuckled. “You absolutely should, you styled me.”
“And I have excellent taste,” Myla replied with a grin as she handed her camera to an assistant. “Thanks for doing this, Laci.”
“Are you kidding? I was honored to be asked!”
“I don’t mean to sound like I’m sucking up, but I couldn’t imagine pulling this off without one of the top models in the UK.”
Laci’s cheeks heated. She still wasn’t used to hearing that. Ever sinceBritish Voguehad named her in their “Top Ten Up-and-Coming Models” article, her life had changed significantly. She’d done her first podcast interview, was appearing on her first morning show within a couple weeks, and had a job lined up in the States for several shows by a designer who only designed for plus-sized bodies. On top of all that, she was getting calls from people like Myla freaking Berry. All she had wanted when she’d started her Instagram page was to give other women her size some confidence, to show them they could be stylish and chic and whatever else they wanted to be. Now, she was here.
Myla tilted her head. “Have I said something wrong?”
“Goodness, no.” Laci shook her head. “I just…I’ve always felt like I’m beautiful, but for the first time, more people are agreeing with me than aren’t.”
“I know what you mean,” Myla replied. “Believing in yourself is enough, but a little support from others can take the load off.”
“You’re brilliant, you know that?”
“I do,” Myla said with a wink.
After a hug and some more compliments back and forth, Laci returned to the changing room. Myla’s studio provided large, private changing rooms complete with makeup remover, hairbrushes, and scrunchies or claw clips for ultimate comfort when heading back out into the city.
Laci brushed some of the hairspray out of her curls and gave her hair a bit of a fluff before changing back into her jeans and jumper, which was in her favorite shade of blush pink. She was zipping up her boots when her phone rang from inside her purse. A glance at the screen told her it was her brother.
“Hey, Jax!”
“Lace, have you got plans for the weekend?” he asked, rushing through his words.
“I’m doing quite well, actually, thanks for asking,” she answered sarcastically. “Just wrapped up anamazingphotoshoot with alegendaryphotographer, and—”
“I get it, I’m sorry,” he cut across her. “But, seriously, I’ve got tickets to the Stanmore-Chelsea match, and I haven’t got anyone to go with me.”
Laci rolled her eyes. Of course, this was about football. Jax hardly took anything else in his life that seriously. “Can’t you bring Tate with you? Or Dad?”
Their younger brother usually matched Jax’s enthusiasm for sports, and their father enjoyed that it gave him time with his sons, which gave Laci time with their mother to bond over wine and comment on the attractiveness of the athletes free of judgment.
“Tate’s going with some girl—” he stopped short, no doubt to acknowledge whatever protest Tate had made to “some girl” though Laci had no idea her little brother was dating.
“Tate’s got a girl?” she asked.