how much you enjoyed sniffing Tully.”
“Dude,” Walsh says from my other side. “You so don’t want to go there. Look at where your hand is. Jenny will never believe you didn’t enjoy that.”
“Oh my God, stop!” I hiss. They all four laugh.
The camera keeps snapping and snapping.
“Hey, baby,” Colin yells to Marsha. “You want to try a position like this tonight? Minus the clothes and the other guys of course.”
Marsha and Tammy crack up and I feel my face go hot. Please, let it end soon.
“Okay, let’s get to the next set of poses,” the photographer tells us.
Hallelujah.
As the guys peel themselves off of me, the hair and makeup girls come over and redo everything, taking my hair down, lightening my makeup, and putting some sort of newsboy hat on my head at an angle. The next set of pictures have a much more brotherly vibe. The guys sit with me in the center, all of us laughing and tossing a baseball around.
In another set of shots I’m on the edge of the pool, my legs dangling into the water while Joss and Mike face me from the water and Colin and Walsh flank me. The minute Joss and Mike strip off their shirts the number of women doubles on the surrounding balconies and the viewing area the magazine set up poolside for spectators.
For the final set of pictures we split the difference between the brotherly poses and the siren shot. The wardrobe people put me in a black bikini and all of the guys in white button-up linen shirts. Then the crew roll the guys’ jeans up to mid-calf, sit them on the edge of the pool side by side, feet dangling, and lay me across their laps on my back, head tipped back, hair flowing out onto the concrete pool deck.
They tell Lush to ham it up, and they truly get their money’s worth. The guys are hilarious, saying outrageous things, laughing their asses off, making faces at the cameras. They’re so relaxed and so genuine it’s amazing. I get the easy job—lie there and keep my eyes closed—but I have to admit it’s hard not to laugh at their antics.
“That’s a wrap!” the photographer calls out finally, and everyone applauds and begins congratulating one another. I’m about to sit up and crawl off of the guys’ laps when I hear Walsh ask, “On three?” The other guys’ voices ring out “Three!” and I feel myself rolling…right. Into. The pool.
“You dicks!” I holler as I come to the surface sputtering.
The four of them sit there on the edge laughing, and something hard and brittle inside of me just melts. My own brothers would never tease me by tossing me in the pool. Their view is that the less I’m seen and heard the better. That these four men, who have every reason to resent and dislike me, actually bother to tease me is like a gift. I’ve invaded their club, crashed the successful machine they’ve spent all of their adult lives building, and they should treat me like an outsider. And they have—in certain ways—but they’ve also made sure that I’m comfortable, safe, and treated with respect.
They might not always like my intrusion in their music, but they haven’t carried that over to my intrusion in their lives.
“Sorry, Tully,” Joss says with mock sympathy on his face. “It was too easy.”
“Come on, champ,” Mike adds, holding his hand out. “Hop out and get dried off and we’ll take you out to dinner.”
I swim to the edge, and Mike grabs my hand, literally lifting me clean out of the water before depositing me on the concrete deck. Colin’s found a towel and tosses it over my shoulders. As we all walk toward the building, Walsh strides by, wraps an arm around my neck and gives me a noogie.
When he releases me I toss my head back to get the wet hair out of my eyes. The first thing I see is the balcony of Blaze’s room. He stands there, leaning a hip against the railing, big arms folded across his chest.
I stop, unable to break away from his dark gaze. We’re both trapped there for what I’m sure is only
“Dude,” Walsh says from my other side. “You so don’t want to go there. Look at where your hand is. Jenny will never believe you didn’t enjoy that.”
“Oh my God, stop!” I hiss. They all four laugh.
The camera keeps snapping and snapping.
“Hey, baby,” Colin yells to Marsha. “You want to try a position like this tonight? Minus the clothes and the other guys of course.”
Marsha and Tammy crack up and I feel my face go hot. Please, let it end soon.
“Okay, let’s get to the next set of poses,” the photographer tells us.
Hallelujah.
As the guys peel themselves off of me, the hair and makeup girls come over and redo everything, taking my hair down, lightening my makeup, and putting some sort of newsboy hat on my head at an angle. The next set of pictures have a much more brotherly vibe. The guys sit with me in the center, all of us laughing and tossing a baseball around.
In another set of shots I’m on the edge of the pool, my legs dangling into the water while Joss and Mike face me from the water and Colin and Walsh flank me. The minute Joss and Mike strip off their shirts the number of women doubles on the surrounding balconies and the viewing area the magazine set up poolside for spectators.
For the final set of pictures we split the difference between the brotherly poses and the siren shot. The wardrobe people put me in a black bikini and all of the guys in white button-up linen shirts. Then the crew roll the guys’ jeans up to mid-calf, sit them on the edge of the pool side by side, feet dangling, and lay me across their laps on my back, head tipped back, hair flowing out onto the concrete pool deck.
They tell Lush to ham it up, and they truly get their money’s worth. The guys are hilarious, saying outrageous things, laughing their asses off, making faces at the cameras. They’re so relaxed and so genuine it’s amazing. I get the easy job—lie there and keep my eyes closed—but I have to admit it’s hard not to laugh at their antics.
“That’s a wrap!” the photographer calls out finally, and everyone applauds and begins congratulating one another. I’m about to sit up and crawl off of the guys’ laps when I hear Walsh ask, “On three?” The other guys’ voices ring out “Three!” and I feel myself rolling…right. Into. The pool.
“You dicks!” I holler as I come to the surface sputtering.
The four of them sit there on the edge laughing, and something hard and brittle inside of me just melts. My own brothers would never tease me by tossing me in the pool. Their view is that the less I’m seen and heard the better. That these four men, who have every reason to resent and dislike me, actually bother to tease me is like a gift. I’ve invaded their club, crashed the successful machine they’ve spent all of their adult lives building, and they should treat me like an outsider. And they have—in certain ways—but they’ve also made sure that I’m comfortable, safe, and treated with respect.
They might not always like my intrusion in their music, but they haven’t carried that over to my intrusion in their lives.
“Sorry, Tully,” Joss says with mock sympathy on his face. “It was too easy.”
“Come on, champ,” Mike adds, holding his hand out. “Hop out and get dried off and we’ll take you out to dinner.”
I swim to the edge, and Mike grabs my hand, literally lifting me clean out of the water before depositing me on the concrete deck. Colin’s found a towel and tosses it over my shoulders. As we all walk toward the building, Walsh strides by, wraps an arm around my neck and gives me a noogie.
When he releases me I toss my head back to get the wet hair out of my eyes. The first thing I see is the balcony of Blaze’s room. He stands there, leaning a hip against the railing, big arms folded across his chest.
I stop, unable to break away from his dark gaze. We’re both trapped there for what I’m sure is only
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