Imperfect Pictures: Part One: Episode Two

Episode One

Episode Three

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Imperfect Pictures:
Part One:
​Episode Two

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It took almost eight hours to travel from Los Angeles to New York. I was flying out of LaGuardia into LAX with a layover in Houston. It was the first time I was stepping foot into my birthplace in a couple of years, but it was only for an hour and a half. That was just long enough to get Whataburger from the restaurant in the terminal. I got a barbecue bacon patty melt with a large onion ring. They didn’t have milkshakes in the airport eateries for some cruel reason, so I settled for a sweet tea and a cinnamon roll to substitute the sugar I was missing and saved them for the flight.  

I tried to feel a connection to my old home. It had been so long since I lived there. Was there a yearning to go back to what once was? No. Especially not after I watched a loud, big-haired airline employee yell at an Indian couple that she didn’t speak Spanish. They spoke perfect English with a British accent. 

They did have good sweet tea in Texas, though. 

It was hard not to feel anxious. I tried to relax on the plane while listening to a book, but my mind wandered away in despair. What if it went horribly? What if he was terrible? My gnawing worry ate at my chest until it gave me heartburn. I chewed my thumbnail throughout the flight, but I didn’t bite my other nails. Somehow, I had finally beaten that dreadful habit. Well, kind of. Most of the time, I was better, but, at least, it was just my right thumb. 

I gave the address to the taxi driver once I arrived in L.A., and he commented on it being a fancy part of town. Since Burbank was so close to the studios, I imagined it would be. It seemed utterly gentrified. The stars didn’t want to drive far if they could help it, so they got what they wanted. He tried to chat with me, but I wasn’t in the mood and offered only the shortest answers.  

The older man with white hair asked, “What’re you here for?”

“Work,” I replied quietly. 

He beamed. “Are you an actress or a model?”

Heat crawled up my neck. “No. A photographer, actually.”

He didn’t stop. “Ah! Are you here to take a celebrity’s picture?”

Not sworn to secrecy, no one told me I couldn’t talk about it, but it wasn’t as if I was putting it on blast on social media. “Yeah. Um… Jules Williams.”

The driver shook his head. “I haven’t heard of him. What does he do?”

“He’s mainly a voice actor.”

“No wonder I don’t know who he is.” His tone dripped with boredom. Thankfully, he didn’t speak anymore after that. 

The area was gated with a guard who already knew I was coming. My name was on a list, and they gave me a temporary guest code to get in. The houses varied wildly, some more ornate than others. But they were all expensive, each with its own high walls and gates. 

The one we pulled up to was smaller, a single-story ranch-style home with a white brick exterior. It was probably built in the eighties, but it had been remodeled since. The surrounding wall was painted to match. The entrance was open, just waiting for us to come inside.  

The cabbie got my suitcase from the trunk for me. Since I only had that and a backpack, I declined further help. Neither were heavy, and I could manage on my own. Quietly, I thanked him before I followed the concrete path to the glossy black door and rang the bell. I was literally shaking. 

It opened before my finger was even off the button. Quickly, I drew my hand away as I took a half-step back in surprise. 

“Hello! Hi! Come in!” Mr. Williams was exceptionally cheerful as he ushered me into the foyer. Comfortably dressed, he was in a pair of basketball shorts and a baggy t-shirt. He almost looked as if he had just rolled out of bed. He hadn’t shaved recently, and he appeared so much younger than I expected. 

“Um, hi. I’m Asa,” I began as I followed behind. “From Vaudevillian Magazine.”

“Yes! I’ve been expecting you. I’m so excited to meet you,” he announced in a posh Australian accent. He was so much taller and more muscular than his videos portrayed. He seemed downright baby-faced and chubby in some of them, but now his muscles stretched at his sleeves. “I’m Julian. Of course, you know that. You can call me that or Jules,” he babbled. “I don’t mind either. Here, let me take that.” He pulled my luggage from my grip before I could say anything. “I’ll show you where you’ll be staying real quick, and we can put this away. Then I was just going to order dinner if you’re hungry.” 

My cinnamon roll was gone. “Great. Yeah, I am, but I could use a restroom.”

“Right. There’s one in your room,” he said as he strode down a short hallway. To one side was the living room, kitchen, and dining area. On the other were the bedrooms. There were five doors down the lit corridor, but we stopped at the very first. “This is yours.” He opened it all the way and flicked on the light. The bathroom was directly off the entry, and there were built-in cabinets on the opposite side. The bed was a queen that sat in the corner against a glass wall, the curtains flung open to allow in the sunlight and the view of the peaks that surrounded us. There was a desk and a cushy chair, along with a little dresser, but that was it. It was very simple, but I actually liked it. It was like the nicest hotel… if it was bland. But who needed decorations when you had mountains?

“I’ll give you some privacy so you can get freshened up,” he piped up after a moment of me looking around in silence. “I’ll be in the living room whenever you’re ready,” he declared in a quiet, polite tone that wasn’t at all like the one he used in his videos. Though I shouldn’t have been surprised by the difference, I was. But it was still sumptuous.

“Thanks,” I replied before he shut the door behind him. 

I rushed to the toilet as soon as it closed and took that time to let Jack know I had arrived. I hated my nervous stomach so much.

The bathroom was bigger than my kitchen by at least double. It also had more counter space and storage. The shower and bathtub were separate, both big enough for two people to be comfortable. The glass-encased area even had two waterfall shower-heads. 

I was so glad I declined the LaQuinta Inn.

Feeling disgusting, the temptation was far too strong not to bathe. My stomach had disliked me all day, and it made me sweat. Also, all airports were revoltingly dirty. Quickly removing my befouled clothes, I stepped into the steamy spray. Each head had incredible pressure, and the water felt magical as it rolled down my back. Rushing to wash my hair and body, I took only ten minutes, but it was absolutely rejuvenating.  

I redressed in a clean and comfortable but plain black dress that fell to my knees. It wasn’t fancy, but I often wore it to work. Photographers weren’t supposed to draw attention to themselves but the subject. Brushing my long curls back into a ponytail, I pulled on my knee socks and ballet flats before I went to face him again. Like an idiot, I forgot to bring a hairdryer, so it would just have to be wet.

Julian was sitting on the couch with his legs out fully in front of him with a computer on his lap. The sofa was an impossibly large square he could completely lay down on. 

When he saw me, he beamed. “You didn’t have to rush.” 

“No, it’s fine. Thanks for being patient.” Smiling awkwardly, I suddenly didn’t know what to do with myself. I was half wet and talking to a very handsome stranger in a million-dollar McMansion a couple of thousand miles away from home.

Unfazed by my awkwardness, he crawled off of it and brought his laptop with him in a single hand. “I was going to order take-away.” He motioned towards the screen after putting it on the long bar separating the kitchen from the other rooms. There were a few stools around it, but he stood. “What would you like?” 

I was taken aback. For some reason, I wasn’t expecting to be asked. “Oh, I don’t know. What are my options?”

He chuckled. “It’s L.A. So pretty much anything you want.”

That really didn’t help. “Why don’t you choose a style?” I offered. “I’m not picky.”

He thought only briefly. “Asian?” He probably had it in mind all along.

“Sure.”

Tapping on a few things, he only glanced back at me once. “Chinese?”

“Sounds great.” In general, I loved food and could find something to eat anywhere. It was my second favorite thing besides photography. Or maybe the third, after music.

Clicking around, he narrowed the search further. He arranged them by the number of reviews, then showed me my options with a wave of his gigantic hand. “These are the top results. Why don’t you pick one?”

I leaned over to look as he pulled out a stool and sat. It brought him closer to my height, but he was still much taller. He was obviously trying to make me feel more comfortable. Sitting beside him, I clicked and read as quickly as possible. Silently, he read along with me over my shoulder. He smelled pleasant... like books, coffee, and something vaguely sweet like cookies. I was so close I could see the stiff hair of his five o’clock shadow poking out on his jaw. I tried not to stare, but his profile was just as perfect in person. He was worrying his bottom lip with his teeth as he studied his options, his eyelashes fluttering as his eyes moved.

I picked a restaurant in the middle of the pack. The first two seemed pricey for not a ton of food, while the third was highly praised for their large portions of orange chicken and lo mein, two of my favorites. Most of the reviews mentioned them.

“I was hoping you’d choose that one,” he happily confessed. “I’ve ordered them a lot, and it’s so good. Do you want to get a bunch of stuff and share it? So we can have a bit of everything.”

He was so relaxed.

“Oh, sure. Sounds great.”

Though I was unsure what I expected, it wasn’t this.

Jules opened the menu and began selecting things. First, pork dumplings, egg drop soup with extra wonton chips, then the house special lo mein and orange chicken with a large side of steamed rice. And beef and broccoli with fried rice. It was so much food. “Okay, what would you like?” Looking it over, I wondered if there was anything different I would prefer, but it was already so much, and the meals came with egg rolls too. There was no way we could eat it all. 

“Duck sauce, if they have it. Um, do you have soy sauce?”

“I sure do.” He retrieved a bottle of Kikkoman from his cabinet, then set it in the middle of the counter. “Do you want to order a drink or dessert?”

Glancing at my options, I asked, “Don’t you think that’s enough food?” Since there was no Snapple, I settled for an unsweetened tea, requesting lemon and extra sugar for it.  

“I guess,” he spoke almost like a pouting child. It wasn’t mean-spirited but playful. He was trying to be cute.

I laughed a little. “Don’t let me stop you, though. I doubt I can eat as much as you can.”

“No, you’re right. It is a lot. I tend to go overboard with things I like.” Sitting back down on his stool, Julian ordered two Mexican Coca-Colas in glass bottles. 

“If you want to split the check, I have cash.”

Waving me off, he immediately went to the payment page. “No, I got this.” Everything was saved for easy ordering, so it was done with lightning speed. Before I could do anything else, it was sent off.  

“Thank you,” was all I could say.

“No problem. In fact, while you’re a guest in my home, meals are on me.”

His words shocked me. Swiftly, I shook my head. “That’s unnecessary,” I started explaining, but he stopped me.

“No, no. You’re here because of me, and I was raised to be a gracious host.” He touched his hand to his heart as if he was giving a pledge. 

“You don’t have to pay for all of my food to be one.”

He shut his laptop. “I suppose it’s possible, but I can, and I enjoy doing it. I pay for my friends.” A tune played in my head as soon as he spoke. 

“And do you take that as a compliment?” I finished the Childish Gambino lyric without thinking about it, almost to the beat. He smiled when he realized I knew the not-so-deep-cut he was referencing and nodded. I liked the song ‘3005’, too.

There was nearly eight-hundred dollars left in cash to use during the trip. If he paid for my meals, I could save most of it and pay bills. I felt a little guilty, but he was right when he said he had the ability. Julian certainly lived in a nicer home than me, that was for damn sure. He wasn’t sleeping on a couch in a rented living room. 

Humbly, I finally answered, “I want to argue, but my bank account says to shut up and say thank you.”

“No, it’s cool! You’re very welcome! So, I was going to sit outside and smoke while we waited. Would you care to join me?” Standing, he stretched his long arms above his head. He was lucky he had such a high ceiling because he could easily touch the one back at my apartment. He seemed almost two feet taller than me. Or at least it felt like it from my spot on the stool.  

The sun was about to go down over the mountains. Awe-inspiring, the sky was orange and pink with only the faintest wisps of clouds. I could see it through the glass walls, just like in the guest bedroom. But this view came with the gorgeous pool and part of the city lights in the distance.

“Sounds good,” I eventually replied when I realized I had been staring. Julian smiled slightly. 

Outside, there was a table with a giant umbrella surrounded by several chairs and a small cushioned loveseat with a coffee table. On it, there was an ashtray and a couple of lighters. He plucked a silver box from his pocket and pulled out a perfectly rolled cigarette-type object- filter and all. Instantly, I could smell weed.  

“Would you like some?” He inquired after taking a long drag while still standing. The smoke coiled from his lips and nose, the joint pinched between his fingers as he offered it to me. 

“No, thank you,” I politely declined.

Panic filled his eyes. “I’m sorry. I should have asked first if it bothered you.” He went to put it out, but I stopped him by placing my hand on his before he could smash it into the ashtray.  

“No. It doesn’t. I smoke at home sometimes. I just don’t want to be unprofessional right now. This is the biggest thing I’ve ever done, so I don’t want to screw it up,” I explained. “I shouldn’t indulge.” 

“You’re not working until tomorrow.” Slowly, he nodded. “But I understand. Let me know if you change your mind.” He took another long drag as he sat under the shade. I was on the opposite side of the table, looking out at the beautiful sunset. 

“How’s the pot here?”

“Strong,” he admitted. “But I just started smoking this year, so I’m not confident how it compares. I’ve been using it for my anxiety and insomnia because my doctor recommended it,” he mused after he blew out his hit. 

Sometimes, I used it for the same reasons. “Does it help?”

Tilting his head, he thought about his answer. “The sleeplessness it does for sure. I’m not certain about the anxiety. It does during, but you can’t be stoned all the time. I rarely partake this early, but Sundays are my day off. It’s helpful when I can’t get my brain to shut off, though.” The smoke curled from his plush pink lips. “So, how was your flight?” All of a sudden, I noticed I had been staring at his mouth for too long. 

“Luckily uneventful,” I replied, but I didn’t want to talk about myself, feeling timid. “Your home is gorgeous.”

His smile was genuine. “Thank you. I just moved in six months ago. Honestly, I don’t really have enough things to fill it yet, but I only had a small flat before in Sydney, and I was sharing it with my best mate, Spencer.” 

I looked down at my hands. “Well, I can’t judge you for it. I own very little, and I share an apartment with my best friend, too. I have the living room, and she has the bedroom.” 

He made a concerned face. “Oh.”

Embarrassed, I laughed mostly at myself. “That makes it sound terrible. My room is surprisingly huge and not just by New Yorker standards. I have a bed, desk, couch, shelves, and tons of space. And we have lovely hardwood floors. Our neighborhood is nice and quiet, with lots of families. Plus, you can see the Empire State Building from my window.”

“Wow! Do you live in Manhattan?”

“No,” I giggled. “Not for the price I’m paying. I live on the edge of Sunnyside and Astoria- in Queens. It’s not as unique a boast as it sounds, being able to see a cool structure in New York City, but it still makes me happy.”

Chuckling, he tapped the ashes into the tray with one of his long fingers. “Well, it seems like something to brag about. New York is lovely. Maybe I’ll live there one day. For the summer, anyway.”

I shook my head. “Oh, not for the summer. It’s too muggy, and there isn’t air-conditioning everywhere like in the south. The Big Apple was made for autumn. And spring isn’t bad either. Actually, I love snow, too,” I admitted. “It’s my favorite.” 

“It rarely snows in Australia. It happens from time to time, but it’s nothing like I reckon it does there in the winter,” he wistfully commented. “It must be beautiful.”

“Especially around the mountains.” I nodded. “We always go to the Finger Lakes to see the forest and the snow. Sometimes, my roommate and I rent a cabin.”

His smile was warm. “Sounds peaceful.”

“It is,” I grinned in return, thinking about happier times with her. “We like to go up to Maine or Vermont to take pictures, too. Usually just for a weekend. She enjoys taking photos too, but as a hobby.”

“What is there to do in Vermont?”

I thought for a second. “Um... You can... eat cheese and get lost in the woods. There’s probably maple syrup in there somewhere.” I shrugged.

Jules laughed at my answer. “I like the dairy part.”

“The part with the trees isn’t too bad, either. It’s breathtaking right now. The end of October is peak leaves season. You should have seen it on the drive to the airport from my apartment. There was so much beautiful red foliage all along the interstate. I hadn’t been in that direction in ages, and I forgot how lovely it could be, especially at sunrise. And it was foggy, too. Such a perfect serene morning.”

His voice was dreamy when he said, “The way you describe it makes me want to take a flight at daybreak in New York City.”

“If you’re going to travel at dawn in New York, may I suggest the ferry? You can watch it rise behind the Statue of Liberty, and it’s free, too.” It was one of my favorite things to do. “Well, almost. It’s the same as a bus or subway ride.”

Considering his words, his tongue played at the edge of his straight white teeth. “That sounds nice. But I should warn you right now that I am not a morning person. At all. As I said, I’m an insomniac, and I try not to plan anything until the afternoon if I can help it. You know, I should probably send you my schedule for the next week.” He took his cell from his pocket. “What’s your email?”

“Uhhh...” I drew out. “Asa Kind photography at Gmail.”

“We should have each other’s numbers.” Julian put down his half-smoked joint. “Just in case your gate code doesn’t work or whatever.” He handed me his phone with the add contact screen up. I typed it in and passed it back. A moment later, he sent me an emoji-filled text with confetti, a party hat, and a little dancer. 

I gave a tiny snort when it popped up. “Got it.”

“Fantastic. By the way, if you ever need to get into the house without me, I’ll give you the passcode. It’s a keyless entry.”

“How fancy. Well, mine has TWO deadbolts and a chain,” I responded in a fake snotty tone, teasing lightly. Grinning, he picked up his smoke again, but when he went to light it, the doorbell rang. 

Jules hopped up and ran to go get our meal. We ate at his dinner table, the sky completely dark. As we did, the lights seemed to pop up like stars, but of course, you couldn’t see any real ones.

Around an hour later, I excused myself, but I didn’t go to sleep right away. Instead, I arranged my things for the week because my body was too tightly wound from all the traveling. Studying his itinerary, I knew I wouldn’t remember a thing in the morning. It was incredibly full, ending with him jumping out of a goddamn plane. If I weren’t so tired, it would have been exciting.

I fell asleep before ten.

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Episode One

Episode Three

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Preview for Episode Three at the bottom!

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Wanna read ahead? (Or just be awesome & support me? 😉) Click here to get your copy today!

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Need some music to listen to while you read? Check out the soundtrack!

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Next Time on ​Episode Three!

“Good morning. How did you sleep? Is the bed alright?” He asked brightly as he went to the fridge. Bouncing as he moved, he seemed to have so much energy. I still felt a little off inside.

“It was very comfortable, thank you. Frankly, I wish I could have slept more,” I answered. He rummaged in it for a bit, making faces at his choices. Suddenly, I decided I needed to be straight with him. “So, I’m going to be real honest. I’ve done nothing like this before, so I don’t know what I’m supposed to do. I’m meant to follow you around and capture your authentic life, yes, but I don’t want to get in your way either.”  

Shaking his head at his options, he closed the refrigerator door with a thud. “You won’t be. In fact, I wanted to talk to you about something.”

“Oh?”

See y'all July 8th @3pm central time!