Free Picture Perfect by Camille Dixon Page A

that money was ever an issue thanks to my trust fund, but the thought had never crossed my mind. Modeling was more something I’d done because Mom had wanted me to, and I’d just assume to keep that part of my life buried under a heavy coating of apathy.
    But if it meant getting an excuse to touch my muse…
    “I’ll think about it,” I said, trying hard to be un biased about this and weigh the situation from a professional’s point of view.
    Erik glanced a t his watch. “It’s almost eight. I’ve gotta get going to meet my study group at the library. I’ll be so fucking glad when this project’s over. See you at warm-ups. We’re going to rock the house at State tonight.”
    I fist-pounded with him, putting on a confident mask until he left, then my face fell. Hockey was the last thing on my mind. The only urge I felt was to create, create, create, and it felt so. Damn. Good.
    Less than a minute after Erik left and I’d settled in again to work, my cell phone buzzed once more. Annoyed, I checked the caller ID and paled. The warm coffee in my stomach turned cold, freezing over as if I were entering my own personal Ice Age. Clicking ignore , I turned the vibrate function off and resolved that come hell or high water, I was getting through the rest of these damn pictures. That and trying to pretend that I couldn’t see myself in the photos with her, wrapped up in each other’s arms, lost to an emotion I didn’t dare name for fear it would tear me apart.
     

CHAPTER 10
     
    Angel
     
    I WAS RUNNING ON fumes by the time I got a break the next night.
    Having forgot ten my lipstick in my locker, I twirled through the combination, comforted by the conversations of the girls around me, and dug through my bag. The back of my hand brushed the smooth bump of my cell phone about the time it vibrated.
    “1 missed call” the display read.
    With zombie-like precision, I flipped it open and checked my missed calls. The call list started to pull up when the phone vibrated again, indicating I had an urgent voicemail.
    I checked my watch. I had ten minutes left in my break.
    Finding my makeup bag, I sifted through the contents and dialed in to my inbox, punching in the access pin. The robotic yet somehow overly perky automated voice read through the time and date.
    I tapped my foot until a familiar voice came through, and I lost my breath, frozen.
    “Ms. Davis, this is Veronika from Crimson Hills Care. I wanted to discuss your mother with you at your earliest convenience. Please give me a call back at…”
    I quickly jotted down the number and extension, and hung up. With a shaking hand, I keyed it in and pressed talk . The phone rang a few times, my heart speeding up while I waited. A nervous knot tangled my stomach.
    “This is Veronika.”
    “Hi… this is Angel Davis. I believe you called me earlier?”
    “Oh, yes, Ms. Davis. Thank you for calling me back so quickly.”
    “Is my mom okay?”
    “Yes, she’s fine. She hasn’t had any more reactions to her medication.”
    I let out a small breath and said a silent prayer of thanks.
    “What I was calling about was her coverage. We never received the payment for last month.”
    “Medicare won’t cover it? Or my insurance?” That was another reason why I took this job.
    “They only cover up to twenty-eight hours of home care, not around the clock. And your insurance company has declined the coverage.”
    I stood there, tasting panic. “What?” I asked in a smaller voice. “Why?”
    Veronika hesitated. “Because they said she did this to herself.”
    A stony, hollow feeling grew in my core, sucking the life right out of me.
    “Ms. Davis?”
    I blinked, realizing I hadn’t said anything in over thirty seconds. “I’m here,” I whispered.
    I heard the squeak of a chair, followed by a door closing. Veronika’s voice was softer. “If need be, we can discuss some sort of payment arrangement.”
    I didn’t want to ask, but I knew I had to. “How much is