Quiet Wealth by J.L. Drake

“You can do this.” Wyatt’s big gray eyes pushed through my nerves as I stepped into the studio and took in the staged bedroom ready for the boudoir shot.

“I don’t know if I can.”

“Listen, pretty lady, we didn’t work our asses off at the bar, college, and now as journalists only to have you chicken out now. Being offered a cover shot for Fab Magazine doesn’t come to most people. If you don’t do this, I will, so make your decision fast.”

“Offered?” I lifted a skeptical eyebrow his way. “You know Georgio is only using my story to help his own newspaper ratings.”

“Even if he is, who cares? It’s a chance to step out of the shadows and finally get out a story worth telling.”

“I guess.” I shrugged and wrapped the robe a little tighter around myself. I let out a heavy breath while the photographer walked toward us. I was offered this huge opportunity after someone somehow got hold of the personal story of my life’s struggle and climb to success. The moment Georgio, my boss, heard about it, he saw money and rating charts, and he spent the next six months wearing me down. I was a sucker for a good story, and now I supposed it was time to tell mine. Maybe, if she’s out there, she’ll finally be able to find me.

“Breathe, girl.” Wyatt was positively glowing at all the fuss that came with a photoshoot.

As exciting as it was, the interview scared me more than a little. I hoped it didn’t dredge up old demons or, even worse, encourage people from my past to come find me.

“Thanks.” I closed my eyes for a moment to steady myself.

“Thank me when you’re finished.” He gave me a hug. “I saw a set of gorgeous twins downstairs, so hustle along.”

“What about Rosa?”

“We’re off this week, so…”

“Mm.” I rolled my eyes at my best friend, who had an on and off again girlfriend for years. Personally, I thought they had been dating for so long they didn’t know any other way.

Wyatt and I had been close ever since he helped me get off the streets and find a job at a local pub where he was bartending, even though it was a dive. He pretty much saved my life without ever asking for anything in return. From there, we were inseparable. We got a place together, went to college, and later both got a job at a local newspaper as journalists. We worked so well together that we often worked on the same stories. We were each other’s rock, and I would do anything for him.

“Drop the blanket, darlin’.” Sean, the photographer, rubbed his lips as he looked me over when I finally let my protective covering drop. It didn’t help that I knew he had just finished a photoshoot with Jennifer Lopez.

My attire for the next two-plus hours was a tight, off-white corset dress that wrapped around my body in thin ribbon strips. Chandelier earrings peeked out from my long dark hair that presently had so much volume I was sure they must have been going for an eighties feel.

“Michelle,” he snapped at his makeup artist, who was by his side in a flash, “no gloss on the lips. Let’s use more subtle tones. I want her eyes to tell the story. Let her natural beauty come from there.”

“Yes, of course. I see that.”

Before I knew that was happening, my face was wiped clean, and I had makeup reapplied, then I was told to wrap myself in a simple piece of deep red silk and lie down on my side and stare directly into the camera.

“Sienna.” He held the camera in front of me and spoke from behind the lens. “Bend your top leg and touch your elbow to your knee. Point your toes and let your hair fall all around you. Like you just laid down. Nothing about this shot should look staged.”

Happy with his comment about being real, I immediately shifted my body to match his direction. When I reached to pull the fabric up to fully cover my breasts, he stopped me.

“No, Sienna, let the fabric do its job. I promise this will be beautiful.”

“Okay.” I took a deep breath and repeated the movements again and let everything just happen naturally.

Wyatt pulled out the article the magazine had given us early to review and started to read a section out loud.

“I was afraid to show my body because of all the bruises, and how my skin exposed the thin bones along my rib cage. I looked weak and unhealthy. My skin and hair were dull from lack of proper nutrition, and my clothes were old and never fit right. I carried my scars on the outside, but the ones on the inside were worse. Embarrassment rested in my reflection and tried to control me. It took years and a lot of work, but now I know I am a strong, confident woman, beautiful on the inside as well as on the outside. I love who I am now and am proud of who looks back at me in the mirror.” Wyatt caught my gaze and gave me a smile. “That’s why you’re doing this kind of photo, Si, to show the world that you know you are beautiful. Do it for you.”

I fought tears and gave a slight nod. My best friend knew I needed this, and he had just given me the reassurance I needed. I let out a long breath and focused.

“You hold so much of your story in your eyes. Think about all of it and let me capture it in this photo,” Sean demanded.

I closed my eyes and took a moment to dig deep and let all that I held back for years flood my memory and burn the tips of my brain.

Okay.

When I opened them again, I let the pain show.

The shutter clicked away, and the memories attacked my soul like a tiny army with painful spears. I had fought for years to hold back the levy, but if I was going to do this, I was going to do it right. I never half-assed anything, no matter what the toll was.

“She does do that well,” Wyatt said from somewhere in the room. “I think I have goosebumps.”

“Mm,” Sean caught my attention, “that right there,” he pointed his camera at me, “is why every man in Italy will be beating down her door.”

I pushed the men out of my head, closed my eyes, and let my mind wander to the forbidden corner of my mind where his face lived. His intense dark eyes stared back at me, and I let all the pain open up and wash over me. It had been ten years since I’d seen the only man I ever loved. I had dated, I even once had a three-year relationship, but my heart was never fully in it. Nothing compared to him. My heart raced, sweat threatened to break out, and my stomach churned like an angry sea as my lids opened again.

“Shit,” Sean whispered as the shutter clicked, “this is the shot.”

I barely heard him as I blinked back the hot rage that boiled just under the surface of my skin. It hurt so damn much.

Click, click, click. The camera moved around while I lay there unafraid to show the world what I was capable of. That I was much more than just a reporter for a newspaper.

“Sienna, Sienna,” Wyatt’s voice pushed through and brought my attention back to the room, “are you okay?”

I pushed myself to my feet, realizing everyone in the room was staring at me. I was careful that the fabric covered all the right spots.

“Yes, I’m fine.” I held up my hand and smiled. “Are we finished?”

“Yes, and if you ever want to work with me again,” Sean handed me his card, “I will always find the time for you.”

“Thank you.” I rushed to get changed and felt almost lightheaded. Perhaps I should get something to eat.

“Come on, lady, it’s time for us to go home.” Wyatt wrapped his big American arms around me, and we walked out together. “I know that was hard, but I’m so proud of you.”

“Thanks.” I rested my head on his shoulder as we headed for the train.

It had been eight days since the shoot, and I felt even more nervous than when I did the actual session. I had always been comfortable with nudity, but it was different when someone wanted to share you with the world. It was hard for me to close the gates that I had opened that day, and I feared that seeing the magazine would make it even worse.

“Honey, I’m home,” Wyatt said in English as he burst into the living room like a caveman. “Get dressed because, darlin’, I have something to show you.”

“No way. Me and my sweats are fine right here.”

“Okay, but remember you were the one who always asked for a heads up on things because you hate surprises.” He made a face like he couldn’t understand why I would hate them.

“Dammit.” I dragged my tired body from the couch in my room and put on something clean.

“That’s my girl.” He grinned, knowing I would fold.

“How far is it?”

“Not that far.” He led me outside and down a few streets then stopped on a corner and put his hands on my shoulders. “Ready?”

“Ready for what?”

He whirled me around, and my stomach sank as I took in my image on a digital billboard right above the shopping center. It was the red silk shot, and my eyes shouted everything that I had been running from for years.

“Georgio is going to freak when he sees this!” I could hear the pay raise in Wyatt’s voice.

“I think I might be sick.”

“Sick?” He moved to stand in front of me. “You’re everywhere!” He pulled out Fab Magazine from his bag, and there I was again, on the front cover. I snatched it from his hand and flipped to the article where I’d poured out my heartbreak to a stranger for the world to read and judge.

“Yup, this is my hell,” I whispered.

“Sienna, what did you think you were doing?”

“I don’t know.” I hid my face from a woman who looked to be making the connection on who I might be. “Maybe I thought I’d be on page twenty-seven wedged in between two celebrities and their baby drama. Not on the front cover or on a vineyard-sized billboard for everyone to see. Dammit, Wyatt, they might as well have popped my boobs out completely!”

“Yes, that is some magnificent cleavage,” he pointed to the magazine, “but it’s not slutty, Sienna.” His voice became softer. “It’s beauty and pain meets raw and exposed.” He held out his arm toward the billboard. “It’s showing young women everywhere that a true Cinderella story does exist.”

“Cinderella got the guy, remember?” I muttered darkly.

“The problem with fairytales is that they don’t show you all the heartbreak that they’ve overcome.”

“That would be a long movie.” I sighed, trying to see his point.

“Screw Cinderella, be the one that uses this article,” he held up the magazine, “to get what you want.”

“So, play the villain?”

“He did, so why can’t you?”

I turned to look at him, shocked that he’d referenced Elio so boldly. Wyatt was the only person who knew my true back story, and never once had he painted Elio as a villain.

He raised his hands palms toward me when he saw my expression.

“I’m sorry. It just hurts me that you hurt so much for someone who left you.”

“Everyone I ever cared about has left me.”

“Not everyone.” He lowered his head.

“No.” I felt bad. “I guess not everyone.” I threaded my arm through his. “Come on, let’s go home. I have a quart of chocolate gelato with our name on it.”

The weekend came and went, then Monday came much too quickly, and as Wyatt and I walked toward work, I found myself staring at the billboard wondering if my mother had seen me yet. If she had, would she come looking for me? Was I not worth looking for?

“Stop,” I whispered to myself. That was the old me. The new me had a backbone and a new life I really loved.

“Here we go.” He held open the door for me, and we quickly zipped past the chatty secretary. She was nice but would talk your ear off about her pet bird. Did anyone really like birds? And who named their bird Chester? I thought that was a cat’s name. That just caused confusion for all.

Of course, on cue, my boss appeared at the door to the office with a file in his hand. I shook my head at Wyatt. He hated Georgio just as much as I did.

“First, nice photo.” He held up the magazine. “Second, just as I expected, we got a lot of press from your story.” He waved us in and closed the door, which was odd, and motioned for me to take a seat. “I received a call early this morning requesting to have you, Sienna, interview one of the owners of Ricco Oil.”

“Ricco Oil? They never let anyone interview them.” I glanced at Wyatt, beyond confused.

“Precisely why you will do this interview with Mr. DeSimone.”

“Why me?”

“Because of this.” He held up the magazine.

“I won’t sleep with him.”

“They made it very clear it was your article that made him want to meet you, Sienna. Apparently, they want you to write it because you struck a chord with him or something. They say, like you, he started from nothing, and so on and so on.”

“Wyatt has to come with me to meet him.” I wouldn’t do this alone.

“I wouldn’t send you to the wolves alone. I already got you cleared, Wyatt, but you will stay in the background unless you feel Sienna can’t handle something.”

“Okay.” My best friend nodded, and I felt mildly better.

“Instead of seeing the negative here, Sienna,” Georgio stood and buttoned his jacket, “see it as you’re touching people with your story.”

“I’m trying,” I muttered.

“Well, try faster. He arrives in two hours.”

“What?” I jumped to my feet.

“Yes, so get your stuff together and make your way over to the airport.”

Georgio was a shark, good at the job, but a shark who could smell a story miles away. Maybe this was an opportunity to show just how good I was at being a journalist. Hell, maybe this story would land me a better job than working for Georgio.

Once I was alone with Wyatt, I flipped open the file.

“What does it say about him?”

I scanned the bio report. “Hm.” I struggled to get my heels on while I read. “Not much here.”

“Well, who doesn’t love a little mystery?” Wyatt peered over my shoulder, reading the details. “We’d best hurry. I’ll call a cab.”

“Thanks.” I rushed to the washroom to change into one of the emergency outfits I kept on hand for situations like this.

I downed some coffee and tried not to second-guess my outfit as we continued to dig on our phones. I did what my boss suggested and wore one of my favorite dresses, the one that got me through security lines before. If I was going to get something for my next article that might make the front page, I needed to land the moment.

I got this.