An Obsession To Keep

Caller: “Violet, you’ve got to find a job that pays you what you deserve.”

“I know, I know,” I said, pacing around my apartment, my voice a little weary.

Caller: “You’re a talented photographer, but something’s missing.”

“I just… I just can’t find the inspiration right now, okay, Rachel?”

Caller: “Honey, what do you mean? You just click and capture.”

I gave a weak laugh. “It’s not that simple. Every model I photograph… they’re all acting like someone they’re not. It feels empty. Fake.”

Caller: “Well, honey, you’re searching for a ghost. People in this industry are always putting on a show.” Rachel’s words hit me harder than I wanted to admit.

“Thanks for the reality check,” I replied, trying to sound upbeat.

Caller: “Anytime, honey. Call if you need anything, okay? Bye.”

As soon as I hung up, I felt the frustration settle in again. Maybe Rachel was right. Maybe I was searching for something I’d never find. But the truth was, I needed a model who could show me something real, someone like Aziel Walker. His work always had a rawness to it—a mysterious edge. It wasn’t just his looks; his photos showed depth, a kind of quiet honesty that felt like art.

But admiration didn’t pay my bills, and lately, my gigs had barely been enough to cover rent. I went to my computer, scrolling through IMG Models’ website, pausing on Aziel’s portfolio. The depth in his eyes seemed to look right through me.

Then, almost without thinking, I clicked “Contact.” A number appeared. My finger hesitated above my phone screen. What am I doing? I thought. This was crazy. I couldn’t just call, pretend to be someone I wasn’t. But desperation and impulse had already taken over.

The phone rang, and a woman answered. Her voice was calm, professional.

Caller: “This is IMG Models. How can I help you?”

I took a shaky breath, forcing the words out. “Um, yes… I was told I’d be working with Aziel Walker,” I said, feeling the weight of each word. My heart was pounding. What if they ask too many questions? What if they find out I’m lying?

There was a pause. Caller: “And who are you?”

“Uh… Violet Hadley. The photographer.” My voice shook, but I pushed on, filling the silence with nervous rambling. “My crew left without me, so I just… I just wanted to let you know I’ll be coming in a little late. I didn’t want you to think I was some sort of… intruder or something.” I winced. That sounded ridiculous.

Caller: “Right. And your name was?”

“Violet Hadley,” I repeated, trying to steady my voice.

Another pause. Caller: “Okay, Violet. Just state your name when you arrive, and we’ll let you through.”

The line clicked off, and I stared at the phone, disbelief and anxiety coursing through me. I’d really done it. I’d actually pretended to be someone I wasn’t, and they believed me. But now I’d have to go through with it. What if they see right through me? What if I mess this up?

My hands shook as I booked a last-minute flight to Los Angeles. I closed my laptop, still wondering if I was making the biggest mistake of my life, but something in me wouldn’t let me stop. Tomorrow was going to be big… one way or another.

The Next Morning

I woke up late, jolting upright when I saw the clock. Why did I think I could pull this off? “Damn it,” I muttered. My stomach twisted with nerves as I threw on clothes, grabbed my suitcase, and sped to the airport, replaying a million possible outcomes in my mind.

By the time I was seated on the plane, I could barely catch my breath. I leaned back, trying to calm myself, but the anxiety lingered. What if they realize I’m not supposed to be there? What if I make a fool of myself?

When we finally landed in Los Angeles, I grabbed a taxi straight to the IMG Modeling Center. Standing outside the building, its massive glass windows looming above, I hesitated. This was insane. I took a deep breath, trying to steady my shaking hands, and stepped inside.

“Hello, I’m here for Aziel Walker,” I said to the man at the front desk, the words barely escaping my dry throat.

He glanced up. “Name?”

“Violet Hadley.” My voice was barely a whisper, as though saying it too loudly might break the fragile illusion.

He checked his list, nodding. “Aziel isn’t modeling today, but you can speak to his boss. Just knock on her office door.”

My heart pounded. This is it, I thought as I forced a shaky smile, walking down the hall with trembling hands. I found the door, hesitated just for a second, and then knocked.

“Yes, come in!”

Here goes nothing. I entered, closing the door behind me, and faced a woman who looked at me with a mixture of curiosity and confusion.

“Sit,” she said, her voice firm but polite. I took a seat, trying to steady my hands.

“What did you need?” she asked, her eyebrows furrowed as she looked me over.

I swallowed hard. “I… I’m a photographer. I came here looking for my crew—for Mr. Walker.” My voice wavered, but I did my best to sound calm.

She raised an eyebrow. “You’ll have to speak to his agent. I don’t handle that.” I nodded, relieved she wasn’t questioning me more.

“I can show you to his office, if you’d like?”

“Oh—yes, thank you,” I said, following her through the building. The closed doors and soft sounds of photoshoots in progress added to my nerves. Eventually, we reached an office, and she knocked, then slipped inside, closing the door behind her.

After a moment, she reappeared, holding the door open. “He said you can come in.”

“Thank you,” I said again, my gratitude genuine as I stepped inside. I closed the door softly behind me and moved further into the room, where a man sat at a desk, typing on his computer. He looked up as I approached.

“Please, sit down,” he said, gesturing to the chair across from him. I nodded, settling in as I tried to appear more confident than I felt.

“So, do you want to tell me what this is all about?” he asked, his gaze narrowing. “I wasn’t aware of any photographers coming in for Aziel. I manage his schedule, and you’re not on it.”

I felt a flush of embarrassment rise in my cheeks. This was a terrible idea, I thought. “I’m… I’m desperate for a job,” I admitted, my voice barely above a whisper.

He didn’t look convinced. “Tell me, how long have you been doing this?”

“Doing what?” I asked, thrown off.

“Pretending. Are you a paparazzo? Just a fan looking for attention?”

“No!” I said quickly. “I’m sorry, it’s true—I pretended to be someone I’m not. But I swear, this is my first time doing something like this. I’m actually a photographer—you can look me up if you need to.”

He sighed, looking unimpressed. “No need. Because if you’re not a big photographer, then you’re of no use to me.” His words stung, and I bit my lip.

“Please, sir, I spent a lot of money just to fly out here,” I pleaded, hoping for some small shred of sympathy.

“That sounds like a you problem,” he replied, his tone cold. Sadness welled up in me as I nodded and stood to leave.

“Do you have any experience with babysitting?” he asked abruptly as I turned to go.

“What?” I replied, startled. “I—I used to babysit my younger brother, if that counts.”

“Sit back down,” he said, and I did as he asked, utterly bewildered. “What if the person you’re watching isn’t a child but a grown man?”

I hesitated, but I nodded. “I… I think I could manage that.”

“Good. Because you’re hired.” He picked up his phone, dialing a number. My eyes widened as I sat there in shock, unable to believe my luck.

“Yes, this is Oliver,” he said into the phone. “I need a car to take someone to the hotel. She has one suitcase with her.” He glanced at me briefly before hanging up.

“Don’t get too excited,” he said, his tone cautionary. “Go to the front. There should be a driver waiting for you, Violet. You’ll spend one night at the hotel, and I’ll pick you up tomorrow morning.”

“Thank you, Mr…?” I trailed off, realizing I didn’t even know his name.

“Just call me Oliver.” He waved me off, and I nodded, leaving the office in a daze. I couldn’t believe it. This actually worked out. Babysitting wasn’t exactly my dream job, but somehow, I’d managed to pull something off—and I’d be working with Aziel Walker. Well… in a way.

I walked to the front of the building, where a man in sunglasses glanced up. “Are you Violet?” he asked.

“Yes, that’s me,” I replied.

“I’ll be your driver.” He took my suitcase, and we drove to the hotel. Once there, he carried my luggage to my room.

“Do you need anything else, miss?” he asked politely.

“No, thank you. I should be fine,” I said, smiling.

“Alright. Let me know if you need anything,” he replied before closing the door.

As soon as he was gone, I plopped down on the bed, letting out a breath I hadn’t realized I’d been holding. I pulled out my phone and dialed Rachel’s number, excitement bubbling up.

Rachel: “Hello?”

“It’s me! You’re not going to believe this.”

Rachel: “Did you get a job that’ll actually pay you well?”

“Yes! But get this—I pretended to be someone else, but this guy saw right through me.”

Rachel: “Wait, who?”

“Aziel’s agent! He didn’t hire me as a photographer, though. He hired me to… babysit him, basically.”

Rachel: “Oh my gosh, that’s amazing! I’m so jealous. And hey, while you’re at it, sneak a picture of those abs for me.”

“Rachel! I’m not taking secret photos of him,” I laughed.

Rachel: “Oh, come on! I need proof those muscles are real,” she teased, and we both burst into laughter. “How did you even manage to pull that off?”

I started from the beginning, filling her in on everything, and she was just as shocked as I’d been.

Rachel: “I can’t believe you pulled it off.”

“I know. Anyway, I should get some rest. Tomorrow’s going to be… interesting.”

Rachel: “Keep me updated, hon. Bye!”

“Will do. Bye.” I hung up, then grabbed my laptop to catch up on emails, letting my clients know I’d be out of town for a while. Afterward, I scrolled through YouTube, where a headline caught my eye: “Aziel Walker Taking Break Due to Mental Health Issues.”

So that’s why he needs someone to watch him. I hadn’t realized. Maybe I was in over my head after all.

The Next Morning

I was jolted awake by my phone ringing. Groggily, I reached over to answer.

“Hello?” I mumbled, still half-asleep.

Oliver: “Hey, I’m outside.”

I checked the time, panic setting in. “Oh no, I overslept!” I muttered.

Oliver: “Hello?”

“Yes! Yes, I’m coming down,” I stammered, hanging up. I scrambled to throw on some clothes, grabbed my suitcase, and hurried downstairs.

“Sorry, I think I’m jet-lagged,” I apologized as I approached Oliver.

“That’s alright,” he replied, opening the car door for me. As we drove, he briefed me on my responsibilities. “Just watch him. Don’t talk to him unless absolutely necessary.”

“Understood,” I replied, though my curiosity got the better of me. “So… is his condition serious?”

Oliver sighed. “Serious enough. He sees a therapist regularly, but it’s nothing you need to worry about.”

We pulled up to a house, and my heart started racing again. I was about to meet my celebrity crush… at his home.

Oliver turned to me. “Listen. Don’t talk to him. Let me do the introductions, alright? He doesn’t even want you here in the first place.”

❤️Thank you for being so supportive. I'm currently working on my next chapter for this book, as well as others, so please bear with me. I hope you enjoy it, and please don't be afraid to comment on your thoughts. ❤️