A young grad student takes a photography job for a mysterious club and quickly finds himself trapped in the gray areas between love, lust, fantasy, and reality.
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"From timber so crooked as that from which man is carved, nothing entirely straight can be made."
Immanuel Kant
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1
The newspaper strewn out in front of me, I sat down with a bowl of cereal and a cup of orange juice. For the last few months, I sat down every Sunday and read through the classifieds in the town's paper to try and find a job I'd enjoy to supplement my teaching at the university. Of course, there's not much work for Philosophy Grad students in the town paper, so I usually search for something involving my hobby, photography.
Every week, there were the same four or five ads in the photography section, and I've tried them all. One wanted full time, one wanted a fine arts degree, one wanted me to photograph kids at a mall kiosk, and I'm pretty sure that one of them was an old lady trying to start a porn site. Either way, none of them were going to work for me, and because there's not that much work to go around in a college town, other options were rare.
I looked down the list. The usual suspects were all there, although the old lady had upped the offered pay, inspiring a brief shudder as I imagined photographing her nude, bony figure. Then, I did a double-take. At the bottom of the photography section there was a new ad: "Hiring Photographer: No Drugs/STD's, Open mind a must. 13th and Aurora, 12pm, Tuesday."
With no name or number, the ad definitely stood out. "13th and Aurora", I thought, walking the city in my head. "That's just a bunch of offices, some industrial places and a Coffee shop. It's probably a prank."
I started to turn the page, then stopped myself.
'A job's a job', I mused, 'and it's the first chance I've had in a little while. Maybe I'll check it out.'
I tore off corner with the ad, put it in my wallet, tossed the newspaper in the recycling bin and moved over to my desk for a long day of grading.
2
A few days later, I showed the small classified ad to the middle-aged man in the light brown suit, sitting in front of the coffee shop at 13th and Aurora at noon. His crew-cut brown hair stood on end, squared off in true army style, looking every bit a relic from my grandfather's era. He stood to shake my hand, flashing a smile and exposing a single gold tooth, matching the gold chain around his neck wonderfully.
"You're right on time," he began in a low texas drawl. "Tell me about yourself."
"Well," I began, hesitantly, "my name is Caleb Br..."
"Stop right there." He interjected tersely. "Your name is Rick, understand me?"
"Wait, what?"
"Look, I don't wanna know your real name, and you sure as shit don't need to know mine. That's how things are gonna go with this job, if I hire you. That gonna be trouble?"
I stared at him, confused and a bit concerned.
"We're not the mob, don't worry. There's nothing illegal here, but it's just the nature of what we do. It's best that names just don't get out, else it could be a bit embarrassing for everybody involved. Call me Herb."
"Hi Herb. Wait, what exactly do you do?", I asked.
"We'll get there. Now why should we pick you for this nicely paid little job?"
"I'm a good photographer," I replied, swallowing my confusion and trying to put on an air of confidence. "I'm also clean. No drugs, and I can keep a secret. Frankly, I doubt you'll be able to shock me, I'm a Philosophy grad student, I've done my share of strange studies."
Herb laughed. "Bet you've spent some long nights on the internet too getting unshocked, eh?" He awkwardly elbowed my side, forcing a tenuous and somewhat embarrassed chuckle out of me.
After a second too many of silence, he sighed, then mercifully piped up. "Got some samples of your photography?"
I handed him a photo album, and he leafed through it, nodding in approval from time to time.
"Very impressive," he said. "Can you shoot candid shots too? Like, of people at events?"
"Party photography? Sure, I worked with a Wedding photographer for a little while back when I was an undergrad."
"Spectacular. You got another job?"
"Well, I teach a few intro classes for my department on campus. That's just during the day, though."
"No problem. You in a fraternity?"
I laughed. "Nope, that was never my scene."
He looked me over for a second, as if gauging my response, but after a second, nodded and went back to his normal, friendly demeanor.
"How old are you?"
"24"
"You single?"
I stared at him for a second, shocked at the somewhat unusual question.
"Are you single?" He repeated tersely, "Simple question."
"Well, yeah. At the moment."
"Good. You gay?"
I laughed awkwardly at the bizarre turn the interview had taken. I thought of objecting for a second, then decided it'd just be easier to answer him than try and eke an explanation out of him, given his usual attitude. "I'm straight," I replied curtly.
"No STD's, you're sure?"
That this interview just kept getting stranger, I thought, but at that point, my curiosity outweighed any caution. "Like I said, I'm clean. Even got tested a month ago."
"Good. You religious?"
"Not really."
Herb got more serious at my response. "Not really, or no?"
"Agnostic, I guess. Nothing organized."