Bad-Ass Days

CHAPTER 1

Struggling for a break in his chosen career of commercial photographer, having gained basic academic qualifications but lacking experience and an influential person to get him through the door, Col Cully sat at a bar, having worked eight hours as a security guard standing outside a bank.

The pay was sufficient to keep him housed and fed with something left over for a few drinks.

The good-looking skinny babe was bent over a near empty glass, two bar stools down.

"Bad day?" Col asked, looking at her in the bar mirror.

"A bad-ass day, yes," she replied to the mirror.

"What don't you do?"

"I don't work as a model although I trained for it. And you?"

"I yearn to earn money taking pictures."

She smiled economically. "But you lack the talent?"

"No I have the talent."

She pondered and flicked some hair back. "Oh, someone stole your equipment?"

"No I have the equipment."

"Hmm," she said, eyeing her drink. "You fucked up and now no one will touch you?"

"No, I never went in and beat up people or even replied to any of those countless agencies who rejected my submissions, usually with derisive comments attached to my torn print in my self-addressed envelop."

"Ah, you poisoned the mind of your agent?"

"No agent would take me on, stating I had no published success."

"But how do you gain experience if no agent will submit your material?"

"Baby you have amazing intellect. What you just gave me is the big question, yet no agent can understand it."

"They sound just like modeling agents. Well I'm off. See you here same time tomorrow to swap about our bad-ass day if you wish."

"Righty-o."

Next day Col walked through City Park and saw by swelling buds that in a day or two the first spring bulbs would be flowering. He'd always thought of nipples of women with flattish chests as swelling buds.

In his hovel in the rooming house Col poured soup heated in the can into a bowl and imagined he was eating like a Mafia boss, except he didn't have a starched napkin to tuck under his chin and neither did he have the fat belly to go with it. He slept and at 5:00 went to the bar for his two cheap glasses of beer that tasted not unlike flavored colored water drained over oats, or so he imagined. Col fancied he had sharp imagination.

He waited a little excitedly.

She came in and he patted the stool beside him. She said, paid for her own drink and said, "I don't do sex."

"I bet you do but appreciate you don't do it with me because you're black and I'm white."

Her smile was thin. "Now who's intelligent?"

"God you have a long memory. Intellect was last mentioned twenty-four hours ago."

She laughed and called him funny. What's your name?"

"Col. Short for Colin."

"My stage name is Cindy Lightfoot. The name came to me one night when I was drunk."

"Which isn't often?"

"Which isn't often. I can't afford it."

"Listen Cindy. Do you own a red garter belt, a red g-string, matching red stockings and bra and black boots and a snappy black hat and see-through umbrella?"

"I'm not having sex with you."

"I really don't think anyone has umbrella sex but anyway we are clear about no sex. If you wore that outfit I'd pay you a few bucks."

"God why do nice looking and well mannered guys have to be closet perverts?"

"I don't know what you're on about. I'm talking an el cheapo modeling assignment, in public."

"You're kidding. Well I could beg, steal and borrow such an outfit. How many dollars?"

"I could get by paying you seventy bucks."

"You're joking."

"I wish I were."

Cindy's lips pulled back. "You're insulting me."

"Tell me this Cindy. How else do you aim to earn seventy bucks the day after tomorrow?"

"Are you joking? No one will employ me. Everyone says business has gone soft because of the recession. What tripe. They're always trying to pin their laziness on to something."

Col snorted. "And yet you're turning down seventy bucks to arrive at City Park dressed with a coat over that outfit and you walk through a flower bed three or four times without the coat, ignoring just a few park strollers staring and a brace or two of lovers laughing."

"Is that all I have to do?"

"Yep."

"Then let's do it."

Two days later it was raining lightly, just as the forecast had stated, and a little bit of warmth the previous day had brought the flowers on.

Cindy looked gorgeous and after she completed three strolls through the bed of emerging daffodils, some already open, Col thanked her, handed over the $70 and hurried off, the caption already written. Fifteen minutes later the illustrations editor of The Daily News and his female assistant were looking at the digital image.

"Not bad," the editor said. "It captures a few things that make it arresting. We'd be lucky to get approval to publish this. Her state of undress is close to being bawdy. Have you a caption?"

Col handed it across.

"Give him fifty bucks as a finder's fee Belinda and make sure he signs for that. Col if we publish this photo anywhere inside the newspaper you get the standard submission fee of $300 with a 30% loading if it goes page 3. If some idiot places it on the front page you get $1500 if it's in the top half of the page or $750 if it's below the fold. Published size is irrelevant."

"Urge the editors to place it front page above the fold Mr Lewis."

"Are you crazy. Get out of here. Give Belinda your contact address."

Col told Belinda he didn't have a mailing address but gave her his cell phone number. "I'll drop in for my check if I see my pic published. Um do you date?"

Belinda eyed him. "I could be interested but you should be told I'm Jack Lewis' fiancée."

"Er then let's leave it till you've finished with Jack."

Belinda laughed and called him a gentleman.

Col was in the shower next morning when his phone went. He stumbled from the shower box dripping and grabbed the phone eagerly. Usually he received no more that two calls a week.

"Hi it's Col."

"Hi Col, it's Belinda from Illustrations at The Daily News. This is a business call. Can you give me Cindy Lightfoot's phone number?"

"Sorry, don't even know if she has a phone and don't know where she lives. But I expect to see her this evening."

"In the last hour I've received calls from three agents wanting your phone number and have the phone details of three agencies chasing after Cindy's phone number."

"Why would those jerks be calling us?"

"Because your pic is featured in more than 330,000 newspapers, top of front page, being distributed throughout the city and beyond today. Haven't you seen today's News?"

"Obviously not. I'll pick up mine from a trash bin later today."

"Oh Col. I thought you appeared hard up. Look, do you have a suit?

"Nah."

"Oh Jesus. Can you borrow one?"

"Nah, don't know anyone in the city that well. I guess I could hire one if it's that important to you. Do you want me to escort your somewhere?"

"No you clown... oh Col, that was so rude of me. No the features department is thinking of hiring you as its replacement photographer. The current one has been promoted to news."

"You mean demoted to news... features allow photographic creativity."

"Ah as you say Col. The meeting is here at 2:15. Come to me and I'll take you to the Mrs Manning."

"I'll come for you anytime you wish Belinda."

Belinda giggled helplessly for a few seconds and said, "Col, have you forgotten yesterday I labeled you a gentleman?"

"Not forgotten but I did think it was a case of mislabeling and regretted you thinking of me like that. Modern women are not interested in gentlemen."

"God Col, you're a treasure," the 40-something Belinda said sweetly to the scruffy 28-year-old.

Col lived in a seedy part of the CBD but it had a suit hire store. The 24-hour hire price seemed pretty steep so he said, "Have you a returned suit not gone to the drycleaner's yet, my size and available at half regular fee?"

The young store assistant grinned and came back with a suit Col's size.

"May I change into it and leave my clothes here. I'll be back before 5:00."

"Okay, this is a bit unusual. Just leave you credit card..."

"Don't have one and I can't pay the suit hire charge in advance."

The assistant looked pained.

"Er, my watch and, Jesus, mom will be cross with me doing this, my gold ring."

The assistant sighed and said okay, that the watch was crap but the ring looked more than the value of at least five suits. "Deal."

Col dressed in the dark blue suit over the only business shirt he owned and that was light blue.

"Do you want a tie, no charge?"

"Nah, don't want to over impress. It's a job interview."

"Look go to the bathroom through here and scrub your hands with a nail brush. Your fingernails look as it you've been making mud bricks. Also wet your hair and comb it. Here use my comb and wash it afterwards."

"Thanks pal but don't run away with my gold ring."

"I'm tempted but okay. I won't."

The guy was reading a newspaper when Col came out with his hair done.

"Wow, want a job with us pal?"

Col said, "You not gay are you?" and they both laughed. He picked up the front section of the newspaper and saw the huge presentation of his pic. The caption read pretty well as he'd written it:

'Aspiring supermodel Cindy Lightfoot walks through the first show of daffodils at City Park yesterday. Cindy agreed to take off her dress to spice up the picture for her friend, a top portrait photographer, Col Cully. Col had no idea what his brazen suggestion would uncover and his offer of a modeling fee of seventy bucks was accepted by Cindy who thought this spoof on spring was hilarious.'

"God that Cindy could warm my bed every night," said the assistant, looking at what Col was reading. Great photo. Ought to win an award."

"What's you name pal?"

"Arthur."

"What's your favorite beer?"

"I like the Bud American Ale."

"Me too. See you later Arthur."

Col ignored the woman at reception calling through that door was private and ambling up behind Belinda slapped her ass. "Got my check baby?"

"How dare you. How did you get in... Ohmigod, it's you Col. Don't you wash up well?"

Belinda scratched around and found Col's check and he kissed it, making her smile.

"Come on," she said. "You were damn lucky yesterday. About once every three to four months instead of having up to ten photos vying for front page top we have nothing, just crap. Then Jack tossed your photo on to center of the table at our pre-deadline news conference. The guys' eyes popped, the female's mouths screwed tight and there was an all-out scrap and those who like pretty girls with tiny tits and very long legs won."

"That easy huh? What's Jack's favorite beer?"

"We both prefer Coors Light."

"Me too."

Belinda introduced the freelance photographer who dressed nicely and with his dark and over-long hair now under control, to features editor Mrs Manning, art director Aster Fontaine and the newspaper's chief photographer Jason Boyer. She then left.

"Col we are interested in engaging you as our features photographer if you have what it takes," said Mrs Manning. "Although our department is assigned photographers according to needs, we have one permanent senior photographer. This meeting is to assess you capabilities and then, if satisfied, I'll make you an offer."

"Thank you. I am interested. Being a self-employed photographer is hard work, the business side and attempting to win commissions takes me eye off the ball, which is to focus on photography."

"Please hand Jason your portfolio."

"Um sorry. It was stolen two weeks ago."

"And you didn't have the initiative to replace it?"

"To tell you the truth Mrs Manning, no one who engaged me to do work for them up to now appeared interested in my portfolio. They only wanted to know how I'd approach their project."

"I see and can say that's most unusual. Well what about your credentials?"

"Hand me the keyboard Aster."

"Thanks Aster. I went to Herzog University. Let's see, yes, here we are. My father worked for our Ambassador. I completed a masters as a double major, in political science and English Lit and then scrambled though a masters in visual arts/photography."

"But this is in French."

"Well Herzog is in France Mrs Manning."

"Pull up your student profile page Mr Cully and Aster please translate for us."

What Aster read out confirmed everything Col had claimed.

"Do you wish me to read out his awards? The list is big."

"Don't bother Aster," Col said. "The French are trigger happy with awards. You are in danger of getting one for blowing your nose correctly."

Everyone laughed.

"Except for this one Col. It reads 'European Grand Prix Award in Street Scene Photography, Persons aged Twenty-five and Under and your were also was runner up in same category."

"Col?"

"I can show you my two photographs Mrs Manning. Here we go."

The winning photograph showed two women in headscarves and white kitchen uniforms standing alongside a bridge tipping waste from baskets in the Seine. The simple caption read by Aster stated, 'Fish heads, meat bones, offal and other puke from a nearby restaurant sink into the River Seine in heartland Paris.'

The weariness on the faces of the two women, illuminated by streetlights, indicated this was one of the last acts of their day's work, probably well after midnight. The angle of the bridge in the photograph indicated the photographer had leaned out to take the shot.

"Ohmigod," said Mrs Manning. "Doesn't that put a different face on Paris."

The other photo was a scene on a street in Paris with a young woman holding spring flowers on a man's knees, facing away from him. His pants were down around his ankles and they were obviously having sex. But a couple arm-in-arm pushing a pram appeared oblivious to them as was a policeman looking at the rear of a young woman in a very short dress and also two matrons who were sniffing flowers as they walked long.

Aster giggled when she read the caption, 'Parisians are noted for being liberal in spring.'

"I have a series to show you guys and here it is. Soprano Vivienne Mellow when on an engagement in Washington noticed me with my camera and poised for me to take a shot. It was a film camera and I emailed a scan of the print to her. She paid me to go the Los Angeles where she was appearing for the Opera Season and I spent two days with her and then was permitted to photograph, without flash, during her performance as Pamira in Rossini's 'The Siege of Corinth'. Here are six shots of Miss Mellow out and about in Los Angeles and at rehearsals and then this one that she claimed was the best photograph ever taken of her. It shows her in full cry singing during that live performance."

The very dramatic shot was stunning.

"Well that's all folk. If the appointment depends on me scratching up a full portfolio I'll go home to my mother who is retired in the south of France and compile one for you."

"I don't think that will be necessary. Jason?"

"Thin on examples but what he has displayed is quality. I have no problem with Col being appointed."

"Aster."

"Grab him Mrs Manning."

"Okay you two, thanks for your time. I'll talk to Col."

Mrs Manning explained her department produced Lifestyle articles covering entertainment, food and dining, travel, fashion, motoring and family features, personalities and social backgrounders.

"Isn't that everything except news, sport and service articles such as weather?" he asked.

She smiled and said her department people liked to think so but 'news' covered a much wider spectrum than hard news. Reporting politics, for example.

"Much of our material comes from agencies and regular contributors. You if you join us you'll be principally attached to our specialists investigating and compiling backgrounders and interviewing personalities. The later demands high-standard photography and you show expertise in portraiture. We always have been dumped with ageing news-trained photographers in the belief they can take any kind of photograph expertly."

"Each person for her or her specialty."

"Exactly Col. So this time I've been attempting to find a photographer with a worldly attitude with a bent towards portrait photography and that picture we ran this morning of that black lady stepping through that flower garden exploded on my senses. That's why I asked that you be brought to me."

"Well I'm more than interested. My status at present is jobless and I'm hungry to get going."

They talked for another hour before Mrs Manning completed her discussion with Col. Satisfied he was what her department required she had her PA take him to sign a three-year contract.

Col left the building after that and returned fifteen minutes later and handed two six-packs of Coors Lite beer to Belinda and said, "For you and Jack. As a result of Jack handing across my photo I have a job as features photographer.

"Oh that's lovely Col," Belinda said, kissing him.

Col had his check cashed by the newspaper's cashier and purchased two six-bottle packs of Budweiser American Ale that he handed to the surprised Arthur at the suit hire store.

"How much for me to buy this suit and a quality tux pal?"

"Just a minute. Mr Haber will have to attend to this request but we have sell-offs occurring all the time. I'll persuade him to be generous."

Col went home with two suits and during the weekend shifted into more expensive and better accommodation. Although it still was a rooming house he had his own bathroom and a kitchenette.

Waiting anxiously at the bar, Col was relieved when Cindy came in and smiled at him hugely.

"They published your photograph. Congratulations."

"Thanks and they paid for it." He attempted to hand Cindy three hundred bucks but she refused to take it or allow him to buy her a drink.

"No, we had our contract."

"The newspaper offered me a job and I've accepted."

"Oh good for you," she said, patting his hand. "Luck comes to some of us."

"That was a nice thing to say."

She smiled and said saying lovely things came easy to her. You know Col I'm really disappointed you're not black."

He grinned knowing what she was really saying.

As they were leaving Col handed Belinda's business card to Cindy. "Call this lady; she has contact details of three modeling agencies who called her office asking for your phone number."

"Do you mean modeling agencies or model's agents?"

"I know nothing. Belinda has the details. This could lead to your big break baby."

"You're a real darling Col. God I wish you were black."

"Being white is okay by me Cindy. I'm used to it."

CHAPTER 2

Col arrived at the newspaper on Monday morning and Mrs Manning's PA took him to his office. All the photography was digital and the printer in the room was top quality for photography. The PA had already set up his computer with a password that later in the day Col changed to one the IT department was unlikely to be able to crack. This was against the rules in the electronic Personal Handbook he'd read over the weekend but Col usually was flexible about rules.

The PA took him into the general office where the seven specialists were housed in shoulder height glass booths. She introduced Col as the people straggled in. During the wait the PA explained that Mrs Manning's deputy made the assignments and discussed suggestions. Mrs Manning worked as the liaison person with the city editor, the editor and worked on policy, budgets and trouble-shooting.

"Does everyone call her Mrs Manning?"

"Not the editors. She's the niece of the chairman/publisher and has been in her position for twenty-six years after five years in our bureau in Washington and three years before that in our office in City Hall.

"Something of an institution?"