INE
In this room, the light is red and low.
The vinegar smell of the stop bath bitch slaps my brain awake, on account of it being 2 am and I’m practically falling asleep.
In the tray in front of me, submerged under chemicals, I’m looking at a picture I shot earlier tonight.
The other thirty-five images from the roll are pegged to a line to drip dry – all of them shots of the apartment me and Charles Hu were just at.
This one in the tray, though. It’s the last frame from the roll – a picture of Charles.
I know he told me he didn’t want to be photographed. But this picture I took, he’s got his arms crossed over his chest, staring at something on the wall.
If I remember right, it was a picture of this glamorous-looking couple. An Asian man, a white woman. They were at some sort of red-carpet event. A tuxedo and black tie for him, a sparkly gown for her. For sure they must be some kind of Taiwanese ‘It-couple’. Around the shoulders of the man, the arm of another, older man, a slight distance away, face beaming.
The weird thing about this picture of Charles I’ve developed though, is how he looks. In person, he’s all shot cuffs, easy smiles and sunbeams shooting out of his face.
In this photo of him, he’s unrecognizable. His face is all tight. You can see his jaw busting out of his skin because he’s clenching his teeth so hard. His eyes are all narrow. Dead eyes. And even though his clothes are sharp, the way he’s standing makes them look like they don’t fit right, like they’re too big for him, like he bought them off the rail instead of getting them tailored on Savile Row.
Whatever he’s looking at, it’s messing with him something rotten.
I peg the picture of Charles next to the rest. No playing, this is just about the weirdest job I’ve ever had. And for sure, Charlie boy is into some freaky stuff.
But looking at the pictures I took, I know that I nailed the brief.
Doing good work and getting praise for it, that’s gold right there.
I would bathe in praise if I could – fill a big bath full of the stuff, splash around in it like a happy little hippo.
For sure, I’ll shoot whatever Charles wants me to shoot. I’ll shoot him naked, spread out on a tiger skin rug in front of a roaring log fire, if he wants me to.
My phone chimes. A text from Mia, sitting under a stack of three other messages she’s sent in the last few days:
Are you OK? Where are you? Haven’t heard from you in a week now. Please let me know x
One kiss instead of the usual three. I half-think about replying. What I do instead though, is I bin the message.
While I’m at it, I delete her number from my contacts.
The pictures on the line now dry, I take them down, flip the lights off, and step out the 24-hour darkroom.
Walking down the street, I’m thinking I’m going to have some wild sex with Akemi when I get back to the hotel.
Maybe I’ll get her to kneel down and throat my monkey first. Then get her to go on the bed on all fours while I plug her from behind. Maybe I’ll finish on her stomach after a little while in missionary.
Through the front entrance of the hotel and into the lobby, I look for Akemi.
There she is, standing at the front desk, doing the night shift. Her hair’s not in the usual bun. She has her blazer off, slight curves under a tight-fitting blouse, and for real, Little Sean is pretty much already at full hardness.
Hey, I say, approaching the desk.
She looks up at me for a second, before going back to the computer.
Hi, she says.
What are you doing? I say, leaning on the desk.
Working, she says.
I say, Fancy a little break? Maybe come up to my room for a bit?
She stops typing and looks up at me.
No, she says. I have work, she says.
And then she goes back to her stupid computer and the stupid click and clack of her stupid keyboard.
Back in my room, there’s the smell of stale beer, teriyaki seasoning and sweat.
I kick the rubbish out the way to make the path of least resistance to the bed, and flop down, face first. So much for a ride with Akemi. What’s with that girl, anyway?
I flip over onto my back and take my phone out my pocket. Let’s see. I scroll through pictures of Mia.
Mia grinning outside the art gallery.
Mia making pancakes in her PJs.
Mia building some flat-pack furniture in our flat.
