Double Exposure


A man stands outside of a low rent apartment hallway. He’s barely 5 ft tall, skinny with matted mop top brown hair and some thick glasses. He’s wearing a somewhat ritzy suit more on the cheap side with a fedora looking hat to match. The word PRESS is stuck on a card in the hat. Around his neck is a newer model camera with finger indents around the lens area that still uses the standard Kodak roll film, He’s holding a folder in one of his hands. He fumbles around looking for his key sliding the key in and echoing noises permeate in the dimly lit hallway. He reaches for the light on the wall and turns it on, wandering in the room slowly somewhat tired.

The light bathes this small space showing a couch with a blanket and pillow set on it unfurled abit with an alarm clock flashing 2:00 am back at him, a small square table that is marked with drink rings and several smudges on it, a folded copy of the National Enquirer that hasn’t been folded back properly along with the New York Times showing the mention of a High society event and several celebrities attending it this night starting at 7pm.

By the living room space next to the couch., a small kitchen with an old coffee maker, toaster, a sink dripping what appears to NOT be the cleanest water dripping from the sink faucet, a fridge with magnets on it with lots of reminder papers on there, some dishes still dirty in the sink for days...an outdated small TV, a couple table stands barely standing, and a recliner that has seen better days litter the room to somewhat compliment the apartment. There are 2 doors off this room. One door is down away off to the left. Another door heads straight back from the entry here.

He sets his keys on the table with his hat setting his camera down along with the folder, and his PRESS badges with his pic and name of Kevin Rogers He melts back into the couch rubbing his face, circles of sleep deprivation are evident on him as he clears his head. Ruffling his hair and yawning, he slowly gets up from the couch as it squeaks from the release of his weight. He staggers in the cupboard for a coffee filter and some old outdated coffee. He runs the sink water putting the coffee pot under filling it up. He fixes the coffeemaker turning it on walking into the door on the left.

The door opens creakily showing the vestiges of a small cramped bathroom, a cracked toilet, and sink with one mirror that hasn’t been cleaned in a while, other cleaning supplies strewn about the countertop. In the back is a small shower dripping water as he shuts the door. He stares at the mirror hands on the edge of the sink. He starts undressing using the sink for support all the while watching it wobble from time to time. He drops down the toilet seat placing the suit there in a pile. He looks on the floor grabbing up any other clothes he can find here to put on, a filthy blank T-Shirt and some shorts both have holes in both of them. He goes back to the sink turning on the water letting it run the brownish blue liquid out the spicket. He cups his hands splashing his face and hair several times wiping off the water reaching down for a towel to wipe his face off. He stares back at the mirror more down but more awake. The coffee pot gurgles then beeps.

He throws the wet towel back down on the floor exiting the bathroom going for a cup ready to pour the thick brown coffee deep and full to the brim in his cup. He takes a sip downing the sludge the best he can. He returns back to the couch grabbing the camera and folder. He moves to the table reading the paper placing the cup on the table there, examining the event he was at getting frustrated at how good those people have it.

So what else can happen in this gloomy city anyways? Hmmm…nothing of interest to catch on film for the next couple days. There goes my pay envelope.

He tosses the newspaper on the floor drinking his coffee thinking as the sludge goes down warming him up.

He opens the manila folder checking the papers and photos there. His latest assignment mission statement reading it over again entirely.

Kevin,

You are to take pictures of the celebrities walking down the red carpet. Make sure you make them wide angle to add some scenery and color to them. Get many angles showing everything past the glamour and glitz, we are expecting some good celebrities and many photo opportunities there. Here are the main ones to photograph with many shots. I’m counting on you to do this right.

Now get to it to earn your pay,

John Irving
(His signature underneath it)
Editor of the National Inquirer


He looks over the sample photos included in the folder. A light skinned female in an elegant evening gown with beautiful brown hair styled up, the name underneath Mandy Blaine, an up and coming model in the celeb circle. He tries to take his eyes off the photo for a bit but her gorgeous appearance draws him in more.

I got plenty shots of her. I just couldn’t resist snapping more of her.

He looks over another photo looking at the black man with short cropped hair in an expensive Armani 3 piece suit. Bling adorns this man all over, rings and gold necklaces.
The name under the photo says Big D, a rapper with street cred and gangster lyrics on his CDs. Definitely not his taste in music.

Probably a thug one hit wonder, who knows. I don’t think he liked me snapping photos of him either. He almost broke my camera.

He takes a sip of his coffee. He sets that one down picking up another one trying to focus on the woman posing in it refraining from the lack of beauty in the photo She is very petite and somewhat pale with her flowing red hair and the gown that almost falls off her blotted skin. The name read Sandy Marks. He can’t seem to recall what she is in the celeb circle.

Why did they want this lady’s photo taken, just a waste of film if you ask me.

He snatches up another photo letting the other photo fall to the end of the pile.

The slender sleek woman with long flowing black hair down to the midriff down her back, filled out a black evening gown nicely with an elegant hand purse that never left her side that night. The lightly tinted glasses kept the glare from her face. Her name is Jasmine Black.

She was hot, but man did she walk with an attitude and purpose down the red carpet. Like she wasn’t even worth the time for shots I did mange to get of her. She didn’t seem to like the flashing lights at all.

He places everything back into the manila folder straightening it up off the table for good measure. He finishes off the coffee.

Back to work I guess. Got nothing better to do atm.

He gets up from the table grabbing the folder, camera and several rolls of film working his way to the back door. He opens it staring at his dark room with many photos hung on lines in there. A red light turns when he clicks them on. He shuts the door behind him. Red lights the only thing shining over him. He stretches out the film looking for good pics to develop.

There’s a good shot of Mandy, several of them, man she is sexy and plays off to the camera well enough, but that back alley really makes the shot pull to her. Wait what is that creeping back there? Is that smoke or mist? It wasn’t cloudy. Hmmm…wait now there’s a hand or something there now.

He gets to work on developing the roll of film. He puts the film on reel holder light-trap tank. He pours developer solution into it blocking the red light the best he can. He closes the lid waiting on it. He moves to his next roll of Big D.

This guy didn’t care for me at all. His entourage had to pull him back. Guess I got too close to him. Here he’s coming at me and his entourage struggling to yank him back. And there the money shot where he grabbed my camera squeezing on it. Now why are the rest of the shots messed up? That must have been the noise I heard from his grip before they finally got him off me. Maybe I should sue him on principle. Nope. I don’t want any of Big D or his entourage.

(Pt2 coming next month readers …to be continued next month)

-Moose Moyer