Special thanks to my editors for their help!
It is amazing how a horrible event can eventually lead to great things. I was devastated when I learned that my buddy Taylor was moving to New York for work. Taylor was like a brother to me, so I tried my best to be excited for him and made sure to send him off in style. We drank like fish and hit on everything wearing a skirt. It was one hell of a night followed by one hellish next morning.
I awoke to the brain curdling ring of my doorbell and the first thing to pop into my mind was, 'That had best not be a fucking solicitor!' I considered bringing my baseball bat with me as I stumbled to the door. The moron continued to ring the buzzer and I yanked the door open, ready to unleash devastation. The sight of Taylor standing beside a bunch of boxes left me slack-jawed.
"Bout damn time you answered! I've been ringing that blasted bell for fifteen minutes."
"W—what are you doing here?" I replied.
Taylor looked to the boxes and back. "Jesus, how much did you drink last night? I am dropping off my camera equipment. Remember?"
I was left slack jawed for the second time, a good indicator that I was in no condition for socializing.
"Ugh, I don't have time for this. I need to be at the airport in forty minutes. If you don't want the stuff can you at least hold on to it until I get a buyer?"
"Huh? Uh, yeah, I guess." I said.
"Great." Taylor gave my shoulder a squeeze and said, "I'll call you from New York. Thanks man." He turned and dashed to his car, leaving me standing in my doorway, wearing nothing but my skivvies, and wondering what the hell just happened.
The next twenty minutes were spent doing what no hung-over person wants to do, working. Each box earned Taylor a new nickname and I was in disbelief at how much shit he had. Thank God the Advil kicked during my labors. After I crammed the last box into the basement, I slammed the front door shut and crawled back into bed.
The boxes remained untouched until about a week later. A wicked storm was rolling through and I was searching for my disposable camera when I remembered Taylor's equipment. I rushed downstairs and scoured the boxes. Obviously, the damn camera was hiding in the last freakin' box. I grabbed it, dashed upstairs, and outside.
The camera was overwhelming. It was high end, much fancier than the one button disposables. It took a couple minutes of fiddling with the buttons to just turn it on. I snapped a picture and it immediately appeared on the back display. I was left in awe. No wonder people paid so much for these things! It was like watching high definition TV for the first time, now that I had seen it, I could never go back. The storm provided plenty ammunition for the camera and I fired shot after shot. Even though it never sparked the tornado I was hoping to see, it definitely ignited a newfound passion for photography.
My television went through withdrawal as I started to spend my evenings sitting outside. I became a hunter with everything from passing cars to local wildlife becoming my prey. The camera only got more impressive the more I used it. Ironically, the picture that would change my life required no hunting at all. I was photographing a squirrel in my tree when the neighbor girl pulled into her driveway. She stepped from her car and all thoughts of the squirrel fled.
I had only seen her a few times since I moved in and was pretty sure she was a college student living at home with her mother. Since I am not a neighborly person by nature, I had never introduced myself, a decision I started to regret watching her walk down the drive. Her tan legs seemed to go on for miles beneath her barely-there shorts and her light blue v-neck shirt, which was probably a size too small, clung to her bouncing assets. I instinctively swung the camera into position and tried to capture every wonderful facet of that work of art. She walked from the mailbox to the house without ever noticing me. When the front door closed behind her, I swear the camera sighed with me. I rushed inside to download my loot.
A photograph is a powerful thing. Instead of stealing an occasional glance, I was able to take my time and enjoy. I scrolled from picture to picture, admiring every intoxicating curve of her body. I was left confounded at how I had never really paid much attention to her. Hell, this girl could be a model! She was definitely better looking than most I had seen. "A light bulb turned on in my mind" or "the final piece of the puzzle clicked into place", whichever cliché you want to use. The point is that it dawned on me that she really COULD be a model and here I was with enough camera equipment to put most studios to shame, taking pictures of squirrels!
I did not leave my computer much that night. Google became my new best friend and I perused page after page of the information it provided. I searched for everything a photographer needed to know and by three in the morning, I began to believe I might actually be able to pull this off. Too excited to sleep, I went downstairs and started unpacking Taylor's boxes. The stuff I had tossed aside days earlier was now recognizable. I really did have everything I needed to create a mini studio. My living room was a different place when the alarm clock chimed needlessly at seven. The TV and recliner were gone, replaced by studio equipment and my couch sat against the wall to open up the room. I was both exhausted and invigorated. The first piece in my plan was nearly complete.
While a photographer by night, my day job was with a sign company in the nearby city. The company dealt with everything from business cards to storefronts, which was perfect. It had everything I needed to get my little "business venture" off the ground. I could not wait to get to work, which was an unorthodox feeling to say the least. I threw on some clothes and rushed into the office. I had a very productive day, just not for the company. I secretly printed off signs and business cards my little company would need and T&J photography was born. T&J for Taylor and Jasper; I figured it only appropriate to give my buddy a little credit.
The waiting became the hardest part of the whole process. I spent the entire evening sitting on my porch, praying that the neighbor girl would appear. I wanted to run into her as if by chance, not for her to think I was stalking her. My patience was rewarded when her car turned onto the street. I breathed in deeply and prepared myself.
"Stay cool, stick to the plan," I whispered. The car turned into the driveway and I hopped to my feet. My mind raced while I walked across the front lawn.
The girl had just stepped out of her car when I yelled, "Hello." She turned to me with a "what the hell does this guy want" look and I felt like an idiot. My confidence wavered, but I had already come too far.
"Sorry to bother you," I began.
"Can I help you?"
I was now standing at the edge of her driveway and the smell of her perfume threatened to pull me in. I locked my gaze on her face and focused on the plan.
"I, uh, know we don't really know each other, but I am in kind of a bind."
She crossed her arms and I started to think that this wouldn't work.
"I got called away for work on short notice and I'm expecting an important package. Would it be possible for you to grab my mail for a couple days?"
"Um, well—" she started to say.
"Please? It would really help me out. I got called away on this photo shoot last minute."
Her demeanor went from cold to warm like ice in a fire. "You're a photographer?"
"Yeah, I run my own company, T&J studio."
"Oh! I had no idea. I thought you were one of those computer people," she said.
I cringed at the term "computer people". "No, I do photography work for a few different companies, but mostly I try to focus on my studio," I explained.
"Oh. What kind of pictures do you take?" She said while unconsciously twirling a strand of hair. I wanted to smile, she had taken the bait. Now all I had to do was reel her in.
"Well, I do magazine work from time to time, but my main focus is as a model scout." For the first time, I allowed my eyes to roam. She was wearing a blouse and skirt today, both showing off her sublime figure. "You know, you are very photogenic," I said, trying to act as if it had just occurred to me, "Have you ever considered modeling?"
Her face lit up. "You think so? My friends have mentioned it, but I always thought they were just buttering me up," she replied. 'Yeah right,' I thought. She knew how attractive she was and now she was almost bubbling at the opportunity to get her photo taken.
