Read An Uncertain Affair (The Affair Series Book 2) Online
Authors: Randi Ocean
An Uncertain Affair (The Affair Series Book 2)
© 2015 Randi Ocean, LLC. All
Rights Reserved
“An Uncertain Affair” is a work of fiction. Names,
characters, places, and incidents are the product of the author’s imagination
and are completely fictitious. Any resemblance to actual places, events or
persons, living or dead, is strictly coincidental.
They
say, “That which doesn’t kill you makes you stronger.” I guess I was destined
to be another Wonder Woman.
“Witness
protection”: two words I never thought would have any bearing on my life. But Emily
Ryan was dead, at least to everyone who knew me - or I should say “her”? - for
any part of the twenty-six years of her life. You’d think it would have been a
relief to escape from potential Mob threats, but I couldn’t help but be
emotional about walking away from my whole life. Emotional…. Where do I begin?
Scared? Sad? Angry? Heartbroken?
It
was torture leaving my family behind, knowing the pain they must have felt, thinking
I was dead. I knew they had to believe I was dead for their own safety, but the
situation made me feel incredibly sad and angry. Then there was the heartbreak of
leaving Adam Comstock. Adam and I had a whirlwind romance. I was falling in
love with him when my world came crashing down. He was investigating a major
art theft ring for the FBI and was assigned to follow me to see how I was
involved. The entire scheme was happening right in front of me, and I’d been
completely blind to it until Adam opened my eyes. The thievery and deception
unraveled quickly.
Everything
unraveled quickly. I provided testimony,
and the FBI provided me with a new life…overnight.
I
was no longer Emily Ryan. Bridget Stone - my new identity - took over where
Emily Ryan left off. It was terrifying to be starting over. Completely over. No
family, no friends, no home, no job. Well, one friend, of sorts. Everyone in
witness protection has a U.S. marshal to watch over them. Sally Creighton was
mine. She was a rock and the voice of reason. I wouldn’t say we were best buds,
but she was always there to lean on. She helped me get settled in a small house
and worked with a headhunter to set up interviews for me with photographers. Bridget’s
biography was very much the same as Emily’s. Same likes and dislikes, same job
skills as a photographer’s assistant. I just had to get used to answering to a
new name, and not be paranoid around new people. I’d been in “the program” for
about a month and was still jumpy at any loud noise or sudden gestures from
people around me. It was hard to accept that I wasn’t in danger and that no one
was looking for me. Sally kept me focused on building a new life without fear.
I’d
been on a half-dozen interviews, but the day I walked into Pratt Photography, I
knew I’d found my niche. Dane Pratt was an award-winning food photographer
recognized for his work on a handful of cookbooks. His studio had a great vibe.
All the tools and equipment were meticulously organized and standing at the
ready for the next tasty project. He was looking for a studio manager, and although
I had never held that job title, from the job description, I was sure I could
handle it.
There
was a large industrial kitchen that opened to the studio space. A woman wearing
an apron was mixing up what appeared to be five bowls of gelatin. I was curious
about what she was doing, but didn’t want to seem nosy by asking. We walked
through the shooting space to a big farm table that was the extent of his
conference room, next to a couple of comfy couches that provided a place for
clients to hang out and watch while Dane was shooting.
“Would
you like something to drink - water, soda, coffee?” Dane asked
“Water
would be great. Thanks.” I think he sensed my nervousness.
“Are
you diggin’ these gorgeous fall days? Portland has it goin’ on compared to New
York.”
“Absolutely.
I feel totally energized here. It’s been great.”
“So
what brought you to the left coast?” he asked.
Sally
had helped me formulate a believable story. “I needed a change. I had a bad
breakup and wanted to be as far away from
him
as possible. The opposite
side of the country seemed like a good idea.”
Dane
smiled. “Men can be such pigs, can’t they? I love that you made a break for it.
You’re obviously a strong woman.” He looked further down my resume. “I see you
have some Photoshop skills, too.”
“Yes.”
I pulled up some ‘before’ and ‘after’ shots on my iPad. “Here are a few images
I’ve cleaned up.”
“Sweet.
You’ve got that down. It doesn’t look like you have any specific studio
management experience,” he queried.
“I’m
very organized and a fast learner. I think I can adapt to whatever you need me
to do.” I desperately wanted this job. I continued, hoping I didn’t sound too
desperate, “I’m also a huge foodie, and I love to cook if you need any help in
the kitchen for your jobs.”
Dane
howled. “Girl, you don’t have a clue what it takes to shoot food, do you?”
“Well,
not really, but as I said, I’m a fast learner.”
“Thankfully,
food styling is not part of the job description for the studio manager. What I
need is someone who can manage clients, keep schedules straight, deal with
vendors, that sort of thing. There is no question you’re qualified for the
Photoshop work.”
“I’m
certain I can manage all that. And I love meeting new people.” Meeting new
people was still an intimidating prospect for me, but if it meant landing this
job, I would learn to adapt.
“When
can you start?”
“Whenever
you need me to. My schedule is totally open.”
“Okay,
that’s a plus. I like your style, but I wish you had more management
experience,” he said, sounding concerned, and still reviewing my resume.
“I
promise you won’t regret it if you give me a chance.”
“Well,
you certainly aren’t lacking in enthusiasm. I have a couple more interviews
scheduled, so let me get back to you by the end of the week.”
As
we walked by the kitchen, I saw the woman in the apron adding varying amounts
of green food coloring to each bowl of the gelatin she was mixing when I came
in. I was dying to know what kind of experiment she was working on but still
thought it best not to ask.
As I
was on my way out the door, Dane gave me a fist bump and said, “Thanks for comin’
in, Bridget. I’ll be in touch.”
“Thank
you for taking the time to meet me. I’ll look for your call.”
**
It
was a gorgeous fall afternoon, brilliant sunshine and crisp, cool air. I went
for a run to burn up some of the angst I felt knowing it might be a couple of
days before I heard from Dane. When I got back, I sent him an e-mail thanking
him again for his time and reiterating how ready and willing I was to get
started learning his business and keeping him organized. His response was
pleasant but gave me no indication whether he was seriously considering me for
the job.
Patience
is not on my “top five” list of virtues; the next day was excruciating as I
waited for his call. I kept myself busy and even went on another interview with
a portrait photographer. It didn’t go well. The place felt cold and stiff to me
compared to the vibe at Pratt Photography. The formal portraits of suited fiftyish
and sixtyish corporate executives that lined the lobby walls seemed to be watching
my every move. It was totally creepy. I couldn’t get out of there fast enough.
I started
second-guessing myself and figured I should begin to face the reality that
Pratt Photography might not be in my future. I was out of options. Sally was my
last resort.
“Hi,
Bridget,” Sally answered warmly.
“How’re
you?”
“I’m
doin’ okay. What’s up?”
“Well,
so far, I’m not clicking very well on these interviews. The only job I really
want is the studio manager position with Pratt Photography. I thought my
interview with Dane Pratt went pretty well yesterday, and he’s supposed to get
back to me by tomorrow, but I don’t have the experience he’s looking for. He
still had two more people to interview, and I’m not sure I’ll get it. I feel
like I should start looking for other options, just in case. Any ideas?”
“Don’t
discount the Pratt Photography job just yet. I’m sure since you felt good about
it, he must have given you some indication he likes you.”
“He
seems to like me just fine. Whether he thinks I can actually do the job or
finds someone else who has the experience he’s looking for is another story.”
“I
get it. Let me check in with my recruiter friend and see what else she’s got.
In the meantime, let me know if you hear back from Dane.”
“You’re
awesome.”
“Happy
to help. Talk to you soon.”
I
was trying not to panic over the job dilemma. The mall wasn’t very far away, so
window shopping seemed like a good distraction to kill some time. Christmas was
still six weeks off and the halls were decked accordingly. The crush of holiday
shoppers hadn’t completely kicked in yet, so I was able to leisurely stroll the
wide walkways and peruse the shops. I passed a Glamour Shots store and thought,
if all else failed, maybe I had a future there.
Ugh!
I hoped it wouldn’t
come to that.
Sally
texted me with the name and number of a wedding photographer who was looking
for an assistant, but at the end of the text she added:
Low $.
I found
my way back to my car so I would have a quiet place to call her and talk about
it. Just as I unlocked the door, my phone rang.
“Hey,
Bridget, Dane Pratt here.”
“Hi,
Mr. Pratt.”
“You’d
better start calling me Dane if we’re going to be working together.”
“Wow,
really?!”
“You’ve
got the disposition and drive I think we need around here. You’ll have to learn
a few things, but you certainly seem to have the chops for it. Be here Monday
at seven-thirty. It’s going to be a busy week. We can have a quick cup of
coffee, and I’ll give you the nickel tour. After that you’ll just have to hang
on and roll with it. I’m sure your head will be spinning by Friday, but after
that we’ll have a little breathing room for you to get oriented.”
“I’m
ready.”
“All
right, sister, welcome aboard.”
“Thank
you, Dane. I’m
really
psyched. See you Monday.”
What
a relief. It was going to be fun learning a whole new world of photography. And
Dane was obviously gay, which I considered a plus. In the photography world, it
was common for studio managers to hook up with the photographers they worked
with. I wasn’t ready to get involved with anyone. I was still mourning the loss
of my almost-relationship with Adam. I just wanted a job, a good job, and
nothing more. This situation was perfect for me.
I
called Sally, but I got her voice mail. “Hi, Sally, I wanted you to be the
first to know - I got the job with Dane Pratt. I’m so excited, and I can’t thank
you enough for opening this door for me. Talk to you soon.” After I hung up, I
realized that I didn’t have anyone else
to
tell.