Magnolia Wednesdays
““Do you think you could work up a smile, luv?” Brian Jennings, her partner in Photo Ops, stepped out from behind the camera, big and rangy and relentlessly upbeat. “You are getting married to a perfectly lovely chap who seems to worship the ground you tread on. And the gown’s not bad, either.” He stepped closer to pull the white satin train of the Norma Kamali strapless gown into a semicircle at her feet, then rearranged the veil behind her shoulder.
“Sorry.” Angela willed her shoulders to ...relax and tried to resist licking her overly made-up lips. “I just can’t get used to being on this end. It’s way too weird. Can’t you just squeeze off a couple shots so we can go have a glass of wine?”
He didn’t dignify the suggestion with a response, but he did bring a glass of water from a nearby table, held it up for her, and positioned the straw between her lips.
Angela had been photographing others since high school when the Nikon she received for her fifteenth birthday had become her entrée to the things that other students seemed to do so easily: the football and basketball games, cheerleading tryouts, student council elections, prom.MoreLess
“Sorry.” Angela willed her shoulders to ...relax and tried to resist licking her overly made-up lips. “I just can’t get used to being on this end. It’s way too weird. Can’t you just squeeze off a couple shots so we can go have a glass of wine?”
He didn’t dignify the suggestion with a response, but he did bring a glass of water from a nearby table, held it up for her, and positioned the straw between her lips.
Angela had been photographing others since high school when the Nikon she received for her fifteenth birthday had become her entrée to the things that other students seemed to do so easily: the football and basketball games, cheerleading tryouts, student council elections, prom.MoreLess
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