Picture Perfect

photographer our coming tour.

Chapter Two

    Flinging open my bedroom door, I started screaming. "Jessica! Get your skinny ass out here! I need to talk to you immediately!”
    I giggled when the bedroom door next to mine opened and my roommate emerged with a mock glare. “Damn you hooker, you just made me fuck up my nail polish. Now it looks like I had a seizure while painting! This better be good!”
    I was so excited that I couldn’t contain myself. Instead I yelled, “I just got hired to take the official tour photos for the Renegade Saints!"
    Letting out a loud scream and a cheer, Jess grabbed me in a bear hug. "Holy shit Tessa! I'm so fucking proud of you!" I was pretty fucking proud too, and the two of us jumped around and screamed like fools for a few minutes.
    Renegade Saints are one of the hottest bands in the world, and landing the gig to take the official pictures for the tour that coincides with the tenth anniversary of their first CD, "The Unknowns" was going to be a huge boost to my photography career.
    When I got the call from their manager, John Benner, offering me the job, I almost passed out. I've only been out of art school for two years, and I'm a total unknown. After stumbling all over my words and saying as much to him, he laughed.
    "That's the whole point. If you know anything about the guys and how the band took off, you understand why they choose to use new talent whenever they can. Flynn saw a series of photos that you'd taken of The Chaps. After seeing the photos, he saved your web address and shared it with the band and me. We did a little research, saw a ton of other things from your portfolio, and that was that. The jobs yours if you want it. What do you think?"
    What I thought wasn't acceptable to say in the course of a professional conversation. Holy shit! Flynn Rand liked my photos? I was blown away. Flynn Rand! He's the hottest singer on the planet, and I've been a fan since the moment I heard their first single, "Now the Rain" on the radio when I was in junior high. Back then my bedroom was covered in posters of Flynn Rand, Dave Grohl from The Foo Fighters and Chris Cornell from Audioslave. Looking at those photos was what inspired me to choose photography as a career. I couldn't believe that of all the people in the world, it was Flynn Rand that though I had talent.
    Clearing my throat, I tried to sound professional. "I'd be delighted to take the job Mr. Benner. It goes without saying that working with Renegade Saints is an amazing opportunity."
    "That’s great Miss Hamilton. Flynn was adamant that you were 'the one' for the job, and I know this will make everyone very happy. I see that at the current time, you self-represent, but I'd suggest hiring a lawyer to go over the contract that I'm going to send over to you by courier. You should have it by tomorrow afternoon at the latest. The first tour meeting is being held in two weeks, in LA. You'll get all of the info on that, along with the tour dates and deadline lists in the contract package tomorrow. After I've got your signed contract, my secretary will contact you to make flight and hotel arrangements for you. You'll also be hearing from the tour manager, Joe Martin. He'll need a list from you of things that you need for the road, and his team will provide your tour credentials. The tour kicks off six weeks after the all hands on meeting, and you'll need to have your passport ready for the three weeks we’re in Europe toward the end of the tour. I’ll look forward to seeing you in LA at the meeting. Good day Miss Hamilton."
    I hung up the phone in a state of shock, blown away by what just happened. I was going on tour with Renegade Saints! Flynn Rand liked my work!
    My body was buzzing with excitement and I was about to burst. I needed to share with Jess right away, and that's when I ran into the hallway screaming and made her mess up her polish job. For the record, she was right. It was totaled, unless she told people she’d purposely been painting her nails while she was running from a pack of dogs.
    We spent a ridiculous amount of time dancing and giggling before finally flopping down on the floor to get our breathing under control. Poking me in the side Jess asked, “Oooh… do you think Flynn will sing to you again once you’re on the road with him?”
    Palming my forehead, I blushed from the tip of my head to the bottom of my feet. Six years ago when I was seventeen, Jess and I were fortunate enough to get front