Demi Guynes' apartment was in West Hollywood, situated in a high-end, gated complex.
The next morning, Ronald drove his beat-up orange Volkswagen Rabbit to the security gate. The doorman, eyeing the cheap car with suspicion, stepped out of his booth and asked a barrage of questions.
Fortunately, Ronald's English accent didn't carry the rougher edges of a low-income neighborhood.
The doorman agreed to call Demi's unit, and only lifted the gate after receiving verbal confirmation.
After parking, Ronald grabbed his gear. He looked around. The conditions here were leagues above his own apartment in Venice.
Beyond the security gate lay an open-air swimming pool, flanked by a patio area that still carried the faint scent of stale beer and last night's revelry.
Deeper in the courtyard, the splash of water and the faint laughter of men and women echoed from a private pool area.
When he arrived at Demi's door, she and her boyfriend were already waiting. "Hi, Ronald. Welcome."
Ronald, holding a tripod in one hand and a heavy camera bag slung over his shoulder, freed a hand to shake theirs.
Demi Guynes was striking. She had long, flowing black hair, a prominent nose, and thick, expressive eyebrows.
Her eyes were captivating, though Ronald noticed immediately that her left eye tracked with a slight delay.
Her face was structurally fascinating: flat cheeks that tapered from high cheekbones down to a slightly square, strong jawline.
It was a face that radiated personality. It was a face perfectly suited for a movie screen.
Her boyfriend, Freddy Moore, was the lead singer of a rock band called "The Kats." The deliberately misspelled name was a current trend in the L.A. club scene.
Freddy wore large, black-rimmed glasses and looked nothing like a rock star. He resembled a high school geek, the kind who gets shoved into lockers but eventually graduates, gets a good job, and marries the cheerleader. He was also significantly older than Demi.
"Are we shooting here?" Ronald asked, stepping inside.
Demi and Freddy had clearly prepared. They had cleared out the master bedroom, pushing the furniture against the walls to create a large open space for Ronald to work.
"Yes. Demi is taking this shoot very seriously," Freddy said, putting an arm around Demi's shoulders and smiling shyly. "She said you shoot 'living' photos. We wanted to give you room."
"This is great," Ronald said, assessing the natural light coming through the window. "Do you have any floor lamps or table lamps? I need to bounce some fill light."
In a few quick motions, Ronald set up his tripod, loaded a fresh roll of Kodak Tri-X black-and-white film, and mounted the Nikon.
He pulled a threaded cable from his bag and screwed it into the shutter button.
"What is that?" Demi asked curiously.
"A cable release," Ronald explained. "It lets me trigger the shutter without touching the camera body, so there's absolutely no vibration. Keeps the image razor-sharp."
Freddy brought over a tall floor lamp.
Ronald removed the shade and placed it at a 45-degree angle, carefully adjusting the bulb to ensure the light wrapped around Demi's face, highlighting her bone structure.
Ronald directed Demi to a taped mark on the floor. The makeshift lighting illuminated her features, giving her the dramatic depth of an ancient Greek sculpture.
"Headshots are for casting directors," Ronald explained, stepping back to observe her. "They need to see your unique qualities so they can match you to a script. So, we don't use overly dramatic shadows. It needs to look like you."
He looked at her outfit. "You need to wear a solid-colored top. Not pure black or pure white, those mess with the exposure. Something neutral so it doesn't distract from your face."
"Okay," Demi said, retreating to the closet. She returned wearing a light green T-shirt.
"That works," Ronald nodded. "In black-and-white film, that green will render as a nice mid-tone gray. It complements your hair."
Ronald pulled out his light meter. He held it near Demi's chin, taking a reading of the ambient light, then adjusted the aperture ring on the camera lens.
He leaned into the viewfinder, carefully twisting the focus ring until Demi's eyes were tack sharp.
"Okay. Now, try not to lean forward or backward," Ronald instructed. "The depth of field is shallow. If you move an inch, your eyes will fall out of focus and look lifeless."
He stood up straight, holding the cable release in his hand, looking directly at her instead of through the camera.
"This might be presumptuous," Ronald said gently, "but since I'm focusing on your eyes... your left pupil seems to drift slightly?"
Demi didn't flinch. "Yes. I had strabismus, a squint when I was little. I've had 2 surgeries to correct it. The doctor said it will improve as I get older."
"Thank you for telling me," Ronald said. "I'll pull focus on your right pupil. It won't affect the final image, but it helps me track you." He liked this girl. She was unapologetic and straightforward.
"Now, give me a thought, Demi," Ronald said, standing beside the tripod, thumb hovering over the cable release plunger.
"What?" Demi looked confused.
"Think of something. You don't have to tell me what it is. Just hold a thought in your mind."
Demi blinked, her expression shifting.
"No, that's not a good one. Drop it. Think of something else."
Her face softened, a spark igniting in her eyes.
"That one's good. Hold it."
Click...
"Give me another thought. Hmm. I like that."
Click... Click.....
The motorized film winder whirred, advancing the film instantly.
"You're different from the photographers I worked with when I modeled," Demi noted, relaxing her shoulders. "They just barked orders. 'Turn left, chin down, pout.'"
"Fashion photographers photograph the clothes," Ronald said. "Directors cast the essence. I'm trying to capture what's going on behind your eyes. You have a very spirited face."
Click... Click.....
Suddenly, a loud scream pierced the air from outside the window, followed by a massive SPLASH....
"Ahahaha!" A woman's laughter echoed up from the courtyard pool.
Ronald frowned, lowering the cable release. The spell was broken.
Demi walked to the window, threw open the curtains, and leaned out.
"Hey! Nastassja! Are you back from France?" Demi yelled down.
"Hey Demi!" a voice called up, accompanied by the sound of treading water. "Aren't you coming down to swim?"
"I'm shooting headshots! Can you stop doing cannonballs? The photographer needs quiet!"
"Okay, okay! I'll come up and see you later!"
It was Nastassja Kinski, the rising European starlet who had recently moved into the complex.
Demi closed the curtains and stepped back onto her mark. "Sorry about that."
"It's fine. Let's resume." Ronald metered the light again. "Give me a thought filled with love."
This second look was for romantic comedies. It required a softer, adoring gaze. Ronald pulled Freddy over and positioned him just off-camera, right next to the lens.
"Look at Freddy," Ronald instructed.
Demi's eyes locked onto her boyfriend. Her face transformed, softening with genuine affection.
Click... Click.... Click......
"Got it," Ronald said, packing up the cable release.
"That's it?" Freddy asked.
"That's it. I'll take this roll to the Kodak lab on Santa Monica Boulevard. If you're willing to pay a five-dollar rush fee, they can process the negative in an hour. We can select the shots and print them today."
Demi and Freddy agreed to the rush fee and drove with Ronald to the lab.
Kodak had standardized their processing labs across America.
The chemicals and temperatures were strictly regulated, ensuring consistent quality whether you were in New York or Los Angeles. It was the bedrock of their Fortune 500 empire.
The lab wasn't busy. Ten minutes later, the technician handed Ronald a proof sheet, a contact print of all 36 frames on one page.
Demi leaned over the counter, scanning the tiny images with a loupe.
Freddy wrapped his arms around her waist from behind. "They're all beautiful, darling. I love you."
Demi turned and kissed him. She tapped the glass loupe on two frames. "I've chosen these two, Ronald. What do you think?"
Ronald looked at her selections. They were indeed the most conventionally beautiful, glamorous shots.
He pointed to two different frames. "I usually defer to the client. It's your money. But if you were my sister, I would tell you to choose these two."
"Why?" Demi asked, frowning.
One of Ronald's choices showed Demi looking serious, almost brooding, perfect for a dramatic audition. The other was a warm, slightly crooked smile, ideal for a rom-com.
Ronald pointed at the brooding photo and looked at Freddy. "What do you think she's feeling in this picture?"
Freddy squinted. "It looks like... love. But maybe a little jealousy? Or maybe she's happy but hiding a secret. I can't quite pin it down."
Ronald turned to Demi and spread his hands. "Exactly. Demi, your face is built for cinema. The bone structure is flawless. But your greatest asset is your complexity."
"With these photos, a casting director sees subtext. They see more than one emotion happening at once. I can't explain the science of it, I just know directors kill for a face that can hold a secret."
Demi stared at the photos, absorbing the advice.
"I'll choose yours," Demi decided. "Thank you, Ronald." She stepped forward and gave him a tight hug.
Ronald patted her back, then turned to the technician. "I need an 8x10 enlargement of this frame and this frame. Five copies of each. Pearl finish, with a white border."
While they waited for the prints, Ronald asked the clerk, "Do you have the typesetting machine available? I need her name printed on the bottom border."
He turned to Demi. "What stage name are you using?"
"I don't know," Demi said. "Can't I just use Demi Guynes?"
"You can. But actors usually choose a stage name," Ronald advised. "Something catchy. Something that rolls off the tongue. Look at Sean Connery or Roger Moore. Strong syllables, easy for a casting director to remember."
Demi's eyes lit up. She turned and grabbed Freddy by the lapels of his jacket.
"Freddy, you're always going to love me, right?"
"Of course, babe," Freddy said, taken aback by the sudden intensity.
"Then when are you going to marry me?"
Freddy swallowed hard. "Darling, I've told you. I still need time to finalize the paperwork with Lucy. Once the divorce is done, we'll get married."
"I don't care about the paperwork. I want to marry you."
"Okay, okay. I will get it done. Trust me, sweetheart."
Demi turned back to a thoroughly stunned Ronald.
"I'll be marrying Freddy very soon," she declared, her chin raised in defiance. "I'll be taking his last name. Typeset the photos as Demi Moore."
Authors Note:-
Well that the 26th chap.....
Support with power stones and reviews.