No Reception

By Maisie Porter

For hyper-successful wedding photographer and blogger, Zody Lee Swabler, anonymous death threats come with the territory. When warned by email not to continue booking jobs, she responds by accepting the next request that comes in.

 

When a strangely eager woman approaches her about the emails, she accepts the woman's invitation to visit her home. So begins Helena Hoath's elaborate plan to take over the life and profession of the photographer she wishes she could be.

 

And when Zody unleashes her own revenge scheme, she discovers that the unhinged woman may still have the wit to turn a successful photographer's own talents against her.

 

Zody and Helena's lives begin to intertwine in ways that neither could have foreseen…

 

 

 

 

 

• Language: English
• Publisher: OLIVE
• Release date: Dec 21, 2022
• ISBN: 9798215040379

Book preview

PART ONE

ZODY

I never learn my lesson about not touching cacti. Irritated, I pinch my pricked finger and then continue to water the plant that hurt me. I catch sight of my favourite, the pigface; it doesn’t have needles that can prick me, and it did an excellent job of flowering while I was in New York. I have never taken the time to learn how much water each needs, but my succulents never go thirsty. I pour a generous amount of water over my purple-flowering plant and put down the can.

I examine my finger, spreading the puncture wound open to check for needles. Empty. I pull the slice apart again and then again, let it go, open it again, and smile for the camera and my Instagram followers: #pain. Finishing off this scene with my finger, I wipe the remaining sticky blood onto my T-shirt. Too much time spent on self care. I shake out my limbs to the music blaring from the speaker and spin straight into my favourite swivel chair in front of the computer.

At once, my attention focuses on the photograph open on my computer screen. My eyes scan the one I took at my most recent photography job in New York, a couple standing in Times Square. There’s no chance a poorly taken picture will make it past my well-trained eye, which reminds me to press delete on that particular shot. I am not satisfied with the hand position of Natalie, the bride; some people just aren’t that great in front of the camera regardless of my skill at posing them. Likewise, I delete the next five photos – oh, and another two after that, while I’m being stringent. The pictures I don’t choose to reveal to my clients from their wedding day are as important to me as the ones I do show them. This strict selection process, together with my creativity, is what makes me such a coveted wedding photographer. I work on culling my photos; my concentration does not waver. I rub my eyes as they begin to sting, but I don’t take my attention off the screen until I have chosen 200 out of 800 shots. I pick up my bottle, take a sip of water, and then visit my inbox and scroll through the emails that have been signalling to be opened. I would love to read them all; however, my growling stomach suggests it’s time to eat. I skipped both breakfast and lunch, which means the last time I ate a meal was yesterday evening. I need to make it up to myself with a juicy burger. I’ll choose the largest one on the menu because if I eat a big burger packed with brie, egg and a couple of beetroot slices, I won’t have to waste time eating again until tomorrow morning – or even the afternoon, if I’m lucky. I read on Facebook that the new burger place in town has begun a home-delivery service, but that would mean waiting for the food to arrive while working at the computer. No, everyone knows you can’t make a photo look good on an empty stomach. I’m going to allow myself two minutes for reading emails; two minutes, that is all. I open the first email in my inbox:

Hi Zody,

I have been following you on social media for a few years now, and I have to tell you that you take the best wedding photos I have ever seen. So, naturally, I have to find out if you are available December 1, 2019 to photograph our wedding. My partner and I are getting married in the courtyard of The Rangers’ Residence in Sydney’s Centennial Parklands. The ceremony begins at 4:00 pm. I would like to hire you for a couple of hours to photograph the ceremony and then to take some family shots after the main event while our guests have drinks and finger food. Please say you’re available!

Many thanks,

Sarah

I read the subject line of the next email: DO NOT DIE FOR YOUR WORK. I hover my mouse over the email and contemplate whether to click on it. I am wary of computer viruses, but I trust my instincts that this message does not contain one. Holding my breath, I open it with slight apprehension, too curious to see what it says to leave it unread.

Hello Zody,

If you continue to book your photography jobs, you will not know which job will be your last.

Holy shit! I exclaim as a sudden strong gust of wind blows my balcony door wide open, hitting the wall with a thud. I leave the threatening words on the computer screen, stretch out my legs, and walk to the balcony door. Looking over the balcony rails, I see the broad back of a lady wearing a red jumper. She hunches as she walks, as if the weight of the world is on her shoulders, as she listlessly pushes her pram down the leafy lane adjacent to my apartment. Dark clouds are forming above her, and I think that if she doesn’t hurry to wherever she’s going, she’ll be caught in the rain. Damn it, if I don’t get out of here soon, I will be caught up in a downpour myself.

***

I sit back down at the computer and open my bookings calendar. It’s June. My potential client, Sarah, wants to book me for December 2019 – well over a year away. I see that I have a midsummer wedding, a mild form of torture for any photographer. I check my calendar for the coming year and notice happily that there are few available dates. Then I reply to her email.

Hi Sarah,

Thank you for your email. It is always lovely to hear from brides in the process of planning their weddings. I’m happy to say I am available for your date.

Sarah, you mentioned that you have been following me on social media, so you are most likely aware that I aim to provide you with photos from your wedding day that are as unique as you are. Let me know when you’re available to meet up to chat about my commitment to providing you with a fantastic photography service.

Zody Lee

Wedding Photographer

Zody Lee Swabler Photography

***

I love my work, and my work loves me. With a spring in my step, I walk down the stairs from my apartment to the ground floor, the freshest job request has put that spring there. I am proud that this content feeling has never left me even with over a hundred weddings in my portfolio. I promised myself early in my career I would never forget my struggling days, I appreciate every opportunity, and every couple interested in choosing me as their photographer. The delight of landing yet another enquiry overshadows the email with the warning I was sent. I make a mental note to deal with that as I do with all the hate mail I receive. I will take care of it as soon as I get back to my office, also known as the place where I sleep when I’m not editing. I make sure these negative emails don’t take up too much of my focus and zap my positive energy.

A gust of cold wind blows into my happy face and makes my eyes water as I turn the corner onto Spring Street. I notice a clothing store that must have recently set up shop as I don’t remember seeing it here before. There is a sign swinging on the door that reads ‘OPEN’. Still open at 5 pm, that’s convenient, I think, as I need to buy myself new unrestrictive clothing for my future around the world adventures. Between meetings, photography jobs and editing, my schedule doesn’t allow me time to just wander, roam around town and lose track of time. I think back to the early days when I had lots of time to spare and barely any money. I sat in cafés spending my last few dollars on coffees and writing blog posts about how difficult it was to book photography work. Ultimately my real, honest, and open approach was beneficial in those daily blog posts where I poured my heart out about my struggles and achievements. Strangers started asking me to photograph their weddings, and then their growing families. As soon as I posted the pictures I took in one photo session, another request for my photography service shortly followed.

I open the door to the shop and the doorbell chimes. Welcome to Loose Bee, the home of relaxed clothing in Teabrook, a voice sings loudly from behind a rack of clothing at the back of the store. Before I can take a step further, the voice is next to me. It belongs to a thin girl with bigger breasts than mine. She is wearing high-waisted dark blue jeans; I think to myself how the jeans don’t match the brand of the store that sells loose fitting clothes. The girl twists her black hair into a bun on the top of her head as her brown almond shaped eyes scan my face as if she thinks she has seen me before.

She holds a hand on one hip and juts out the other, Can I help you today, doll? she asks.

Maybe you can. I’m interested in buying some clothes for travelling. I’m a photographer, I travel a great deal, so I need clothes that are casual and comfortable, I reply looking around at the merchandise in the store to see if it’s worth my time.

Oh, you’re a photographer, are you? You are lucky to have a job where you can travel, the sales assistant says dreamily, drawing my attention back to her energetic eyes.

I’m stuck working in this boring shop every day. Can we please swap jobs? she asks laughing.

Mmmh... daring of you to ask but no, no I’m happy with my job. It’s more than a job though; photography takes me to amazing places around the world, I boast.

Easy there, I was kidding, she murmurs.

The sales assistant and I stand facing one another in a taut silence before I try to step past her. Well, you enjoy looking around at the travel-friendly clothing we have; I’ll be with you after I make an urgent phone call, she says, scurrying toward the front desk in the corner of the store, pulling her phone out the back pocket of her tight jeans.

I walk to the ‘new arrivals’ rack and flip through the coloured clothing. A red maxi dress slips from its hook and drops to the floor; I crouch to pick it up, sliding the hanger back through the neckline opening. As I stand up, I catch the sales assistant pointing her phone in my direction. I can’t seem ever to be able to pick up reception in this store, she says too loudly while making a point of waving her phone in the air. When she’s finished shaking her mobile, she slips it back into her pocket.

Selecting a pair of purple paisley pants, I head for the changing room.

I didn’t get your name, the girl says outside the changing room door as I pull down my leggings. I have never come across a sales assistant interested in asking me my name; I don’t think it’s standard behaviour.

My name’s Zody.

Zody, beautiful name, what’s the meaning behind it? the girl asks.

Zody means life, I reply.

My name is Chantel, she tells me even though I don’t ask.

I slip on the pants and glance at myself in the mirror, more interested in how they make me look than continuing the conversation. I decide to buy the pants because, well, I’m already in the store and if I don’t buy them, I would spend the time I don’t have online shopping for pants that end up not fitting.

Zody, it’s as if I summoned you into the shop today with my thoughts; my fiancé and I became engaged two weeks ago, and I have started searching for a photographer to take our engagement photos, she continues from behind the door.

I strip off my shirt and swipe my dark brown hair to the side, satisfied that it’s framing my face perfectly. I give my bra a push-up, so my large breasts look bigger, good, now they look as large as the sales assistant’s. I find an angle where the changing room lighting brings out the hazel in my eyes; I lift up my chin and take a picture of my reflection: #workwordrobeshopping.

It will be best if you write me an email, and we can organise a time to meet – yourself and your fiancé, I say taking my business card out of my calico bag and passing it over the top of the dressing room door, wishing the girl would leave me so I can get dressed. I put my clothes back on while she waits outside the door and then I follow chatty Chantel to the cash register. Can you pack these pants for me, I’ll buy them, I say, sliding the purple paisley pants across the desk. In the same moment, Chantel’s phone alerts her that she has received a text message.

Ahhh okay, Chantel says to no one in particular as she reads the message then slides her phone under a piece of paper. Clearing her throat she composes herself and begins to pack my pant purchase in a bag.

My fiancé will be thrilled that I’ve found a photographer to consider, it’s not so easy to find one when you need the photos taken soon.

I watch her thin eyebrows move up and down as she chats excitedly, and I feel slightly sorry for her as she may be disappointed when she sees my prices especially if she would like to fast track her photo session. I don’t think she could afford my service on a sales assistant salary. As much as I appreciate my clients, my pricing is set high to maintain a certain standard in my portfolio. As though reading my mind, Chantel states proudly, "My fiancé is