“One more just like that,” the photographer directs, clicking the shutter rapidfire. “Okay, great. Now, Talia, slide on over and put your hand on his chest.”

Just fucking fantastic.

I’m not sure what this picture has to do with promoting a protein shake, but what do I know? I’m just the brawny body they need for this shoot and the face the sponsors chose to represent their product. And with the ridiculous amount of money they pay me to do this, I can hardly complain.

Talia, the model, is an ex-girlfriend of mine. Although we ended two years ago with an ugly and messy breakup, she continues to be excessively attentive every time we have to work together. Lingering touches, and blatant flirting are never in short supply even though I’ve never once gone back for a repeat and I never will. I’m not sure why she hasn’t given up by now. She’s persistent; I’ll give her that.

Talia presses her large tits into my arm and lightly scratches my chest with her disturbingly long, blood red fingernails. Her touch does nothing except remind me of my own idiocy. I let myself be sucked in by her outer beauty and quickly fell for her sweet and innocent act. Boy was I surprised when I caught her in our bed with another fitness model. I kicked them both from my house butt naked and threw their clothes out the door behind them. He’s lucky I didn’t kick his ass.

All her possessions were packed up, the boxes stacked neatly in the driveway by the end of that same day and I’ve never had a conversation with her again by choice. Even now, when I’m forced to work with Talia, I limit my answers to one word and keep things purely professional. I’m not about to get sucked in for a second time by her deceptively sweet nature.

Now, I’m careful to avoid becoming involved with any women at all. Talia broke my heart and damaged my ego. I’m not willing to give anyone else the opportunity to get close enough to do the same.

“Okay, it’s a wrap. Great job, Magnus,” the photographer steps forward to shake my hand. “Always a pleasure working with you.” His grip is firm.

“Yeah, you too, thanks.” I keep my reply brief as usual. I’m a man of few words and the few I share have a purpose. I don’t believe in talking for the sake of filling up empty space or listening to my own voice. Being around people I’m not familiar with makes me anxious. As a young kid, I struggled with anxiety so much I developed a stutter. The more flustered I got the more pronounced it would be. Which meant being teased by the other kids and the taunting had me stumbling over words even more so. It was a vicious cycle and made me hate going to school. I avoided speaking in all situations unless I had to. My social life suffered as a result and in high school I began going to the gym to make up for my lack of close friends.  

With time, I’ve learned to control the stutter and do better in social situations, but I still don’t enjoy them. I’d rather be at home with Sybil, my temperamental cat. At least I know where I stand with her. She doesn’t pretend to be something she’s not.

Speedily moving toward the door of the studio, I don’t dare linger around in case Talia chases after me. Once I’m out in the brightly lit hallway, I meet up with my personal assistant, Cameron, as he walks in my direction.

“There you are,” he waves his hand, dramatically. “We need to hustle and bustle right now, Mags.”

I don’t reply, I just trek toward the front door as Cam hands off the black backpack he has slung over his shoulder.

“Thank you,” I reply politely, as we step outside into the high early summer temperatures. The humidity in the air hits my face full force like I’ve walked into a brick wall of wet, heat. Drawing breath into my lungs is difficult and I’m tempted to head back into the air conditioned studio.

“We have to head over to the Book Bin so you can sign some calendars and then we have to stop at The Men’s Mane to get your haircut,” Cam informs me as we make our way to my coal black Hummer.

“I don’t need a haircut,” I inform him, clicking the keybox and unlocking the doors. Sliding inside, I place the key in the ignition and start my girl up. This beauty is my baby. She’s good to me and vice versa. The rumbling purr of her engine as I pull onto the street and give her some gas pleases me.

“It’s a promotional event. You’re getting paid one thousand dollars to have your haircut and your beard trimmed at this salon and be filmed while doing it. They’re also gifting you a year’s worth of free shampoo, conditioner and beard oil.”

“Beard oil? Who actually uses that shit?” Scowling in Cam’s direction, my gaze shifts back to the road in front of me. “Can you avoid making so many unnecessary appointments from now on? My schedule is too full and I’m neglecting my own business as a result.” The Battering Axe, my tree removal company was started by me five years ago and has grown into one of the largest and most successful ones in the state of West Virginia. Keeping it that way is important to me. I don’t want to see The Battering Axe take the back seat to all this other stuff.

“Mags, your business is great, but you can make more money in one day with a photo shoot than you can in a week.”

“Money isn’t everything, Cam.”

“I know, but it’s simple addition. Why shouldn’t I book you for something that requires so little time or work?”

Pressing my lips together, I sigh. He doesn’t understand and I know no matter how much I try to explain it to him, he never will. It’s not about the money for me. I may have plenty and live a lifestyle  most can’t fathom, but that doesn’t mean I need it to be happy. Hell, I could give it up tomorrow with no qualms at all.