As she nervously approached the Jonniee crew, set up midway on the beach, Charmaine could see that the junior photographer was already muttering ecstatic comments about the quality of light as he gazed into his light meter. Phil, the senior photographer, was already set up, surrounded by the paraphernalia of his profession. As the ‘silent’ partner, Charmaine had never really watched many photo-shoots before. Oh, she’d been present, in the audience, at nearly all of Jonniee’s fashion shows and launches, but firmly resisting all of Jo-Jo’s attempts to get her up on the stage afterwards to acknowledge the plaudits of the critics and buyers alike. But she’d never before seen the nuts-and-bolts business of photo-shoots. Only the glossy perfection of their results in magazines and on public billboards. Now, she watched the other four models surreptitiously. All seemed perfectly at ease in robes, lounging on deck chairs, waiting for the call to action. Fizz, a tall, stunning woman with ebony skin and tight curly hair and bone structure to die for, even seemed to be snoozing, two pieces of cucumber covering her dark, soulful eyes.
