Arlette Bourdin

When he entered the café he ordered an iced coffee and sat down in a corner as far from Arlette as he could get, and looked at her Rank benefits in confusion.

Arlette Bourdin, Rank 1
-Arlette will assess your photography and decide if you are worth her time
-If Arlette is not impressed by at least one picture, this Soul Link will be severed

If his head were on straight, he would have went outside or to the bathroom and asked Cammy why Arlette's Rank 1 was so much different than anyone else's, but his give-a-shit meter was empty after everything that happened with Jessie, so he just sat back and drank his coffee while soft jazz played on the overhead speakers. It helped his temper cool, ever so minimally.

Not a bad little-

"Give me your camera," a voice said, interrupting his thoughts.

Arlette had walked over to his table and held her hand out. Eagle eyes regarded him with an abnormal sharpness that made him feel like an ant being watched in an ant farm. Hers was an intimidating presence, and it made him forget the loathsome night he'd had up till now.

"Wh- No?" he replied in confusion.

"It wasn't a request. You took a picture of me, and in doing so forfeited your own right to privacy. Give it here."

If she saw the things on his camera... "There's no way I'm-"

Arlette moved closer and towered over him, her eyes looking down at him like an amoeba she was getting ready to stomp out of existence. Leon couldn't pin down if it was because of her age or something else entirely, but he had the strangest notion that this must be what a peasant felt like in the old days being regarded by a duke or duchess so far removed from their class of living that they might as well have been gods.

Without urgency or caution, Arlette plucked the camera from his hands as if he'd agreed and handed it to her himself. His heart sank when she began to click through the pictures. Almost everything on there was sexual in nature. The pictures of Jessie would be written off as a girlfriend (if only), but he also had pictures of Marlene, Lily, Ophelia, and his mother. Some more lecherous than others, but all of which must look awfully suspect to a stranger. He steeled himself for an onslaught of vitriol in which she sent him back to the refuse pile she was about to tell him he belonged in. I should have stood my ground and left, this is gonna suck.

For her part though, Arlette said nothing until she finished flipping through the all the pictures on the camera.

“Terrible,” she said finally.

Leon wasn’t sure if she meant the quality or the subject matter.

Arlette’s next words were unexpected. “But the ones of this woman show a flicker of promise.”

“Which woman?”

“Don’t ask foolish questions. You know exactly which woman.”

Jessie. Had to be.

“I guess I do. Listen, I wasn’t expecting anyone to look at all those... I had pretty much no equipment and they’re all really personal,” he made excuses for himself, but Arlette waved them off like annoyances not worth her time.

“That’s irrelevant. If an artist has skill, it shines through his limitations,” Arlette said, and handed back his camera.

Then continued, “Your thinking is backwards. Personal photography is the only kind of photography worth a damn, not something to keep hidden away like it’s shameful. The more the subject means to the photographer, the more it will mean to their audience. I loved every model I ever photographed,” she said, and pulled up a chair to sit across from him.

“You’re a photographer?” Leon asked. It was rare to meet another photographer out in the wild here in Navarre. Except tourists taking photos, but they hardly counted.

“Was. A long time ago.”

“Why’d you quit?”

Arlette didn’t reply, and he decided it would be smarter not to press the issue.

“You want to be a professional?” she asked him, moving the conversation away from the unanswered question.

“Yeah. I want to have my own modeling agency.”

“Owning an agency isn’t photography. It’s business.”

“I want to own a modeling agency, and be the primary photographer for all my models.”

Arlette laughed a low, husky laugh. “If you’re paying your models and photographing them, then exactly who are you expecting to pay you?”

“Well, I thought if I sold their pictures to magazines or something...”

“Such a naive view of the world,” she shook her head as her laughter died down. “Tell you what, runt. Your skills need some serious work, but you have potential. Come see me at my studio if you ever want some pointers.”

Arlette finished off the last of her coffee and handed him a business card.

“I thought you said you weren’t a photographer anymore?”

“I take pictures, but I’m no photographer these days,” she said. “And one more thing, runt. Whoever that woman is, if you love her that much then you better make sure to keep her around. Every artist needs a muse.”

Leon watched her go, and decided maybe it was about time to get home. His thoughts were still a jumbled mess, but Arlette made him realize that he’d rather figure them out with Jessie. They were a team, after all.