Brooke and Soña finally had coffee at The Clover.
Geoff should have done what his wife asked, but instead, he had waited to tell Blair, who told Brooke, who then called Geoff, who told Soña how Brooke was interested and wanted to talk.
Soña could have gone back through the process but instead merely called Brooke and invited herself to coffee. Easier for everyone the two women felt.
Over coffee, Soña explained the accident. “It happened in rehearsal when I was being lifted by a guy wearing a black t-shirt that said, ‘Real Men Lift Women – Not Weights.’ Funny and all, but this dude was young and lost his balance or his grip or both, and I came crashing to the floor; my right leg was broken. The surgeon said it would heal, in time, and I should be able to dance again, maybe.”
Soña took a sip of coffee and continued, “The company still wants me in rehearsal, but only to observe, take notes, and do some stretching, as long as my leg doesn’t hurt. I set on the front row, with Geoff. Mostly I’ve taken notes, but a month or so ago Geoff asked if I’d like to learn to take shots of the dancers. He said I know what the choreographer was looking for and I would be a big help. I’ve enjoyed it. Geoff says I have an eye for it.”
Brooke listened, and was glad to learn her story, but was relieved when the topic at last turned to photography.
“I brought some samples. Want to see?” Soña asked.
“Sure,” Brooke said.
With that, the dancer spread out various photographs on the small table, too many for it to hold. Brooke moved the coffee so it wouldn’t spill on the images.
“These are good,” Brooke would have said, but she didn’t want to gush. Instead, she took the time to study each one; the angle of the camera, the tilt of the dancer. Some had the face in better focus than the body while others seemed to only highlight a foot or the angle of a graceful hand. One only showed the dancer’s powerful back, another the line of her neck. “Better than mine,” a thought Brooke didn’t want to stay with.
“Do you think you could take the same pictures, but of dogs?”, Brooke asked, surprised by the businesswoman she was becoming.
“Sure .. I mean, I guess. It’s kinda the same. I use the burst setting, and when the dancer is moving in a direction, I aim there and fire away. I know where the action is headed. My years at Juilliard and my parents teaching yoga for so long have taught me to understand the flow at the moment. I usually get it right.”
Brooke knew she should have Soña take sample photos of dogs before the conversation went further, that would be Peter’s advice, but instead, she jumped ahead.
“When could you start?”
Soña wasn’t sure what to say, she stuttered as she took another sip of coffee while putting away the photos.
“Well, the company is going on tour for two months, and I’m not invited, because of my injury and all, so I guess I don’t have anything else to do right now.”
“Great, let’s meet tomorrow morning at Freedom Park. Do you know where that is?”
“Sure,” and with that Soña put the photos back in her pack, slung it over a shoulder, and headed out the door.
Brooke knew Peter would want to know how much Soña would be making, what her hours would be, but she would work that out later.
Brooke spent the rest of the day thinking how similar right-brained people can be. How they see and do things without letting the left-brained details get in the way.
Which is a good thing – except when it isn’t.