Not After Everything by Michelle Levy Page A

the suit. The pants are only a little too big on me now. Not enough that anyone but me will notice.
    As I replace the blue shirt with the white one, Henry chuckles, pointing to the iron burn on the back near my armpit. “And that’s with help?”
    â€œNo, that’s from before. I told you I wasn’t very good at it,” I say, pulling the tie around my neck. I’ve never been particularly good at tying a tie either.
    â€œLooks like you need some help again,” Henry says.
    Oh, god, please don’t make Jordyn help me with this
. But it’s Henry who walks over and pulls the tie out of my hands. He places it around his neck, quickly and expertly ties it, and loops it back over my head.
    â€œDidn’t your old man ever teach you how to properly tie a damn tie?”
    â€œHe’s not really a tie kind of guy,” I say.
    â€œDo I look like a tie kind of guy to you?”
    I smile. “Good point.”
    When he finishes, he fixes my collar and brushes my shirt across my shoulders. And I can’t look at him for a sec. Jordyn has no idea how good she has it. What I wouldn’t have given for my mom to have left my dad to find a guy like Henry who could teach me to do things like tie a goddamn necktie.
    â€œJordyn! Can you set up the big fan out here?” Henry bellows.
    â€œI can do it,” I offer.
    â€œWe’re trying to get you not to sweat through that suit.”
    Jordyn is back through the curtain and pulling the big fan across the room in no time. It’s on wheels, so I don’t feel so bad.
    â€œThanks, kiddo. The lights are already fighting the AC. It’s gonna be unbearable this afternoon.”
    Jordyn plugs in the fan and turns it on.
    â€œOkay, Tyler Blackwell, let’s get you situated.” Henry pats a podium-type thing. Or is it a column? Whatever it is, it’s black. The backdrop is dark gray and there’s a circle of lighter gray in the center thanks to Henry’s keen eye for lighting.
    He has me lean one elbow on the colopodium. I do as told, but I feel like such a douchebag. Especially because Jordyn’s watching.
    Henry snaps and snaps and snaps whether I’m ready or not. I vow that I will never make fun of models again. Okay, in all fairness, I probably will, but I’ll admit that their job’s not as easy as it seems.
    â€œWell, Hank, it looks like you actually made a good investment for once,” Jordyn teases Henry.
    â€œYou shut up over there.” Henry chuckles.
    â€œI’m just saying not all of your purchases are well thought out.”
    â€œHank?” I ask.
    â€œShe knows it drives me crazy.” Henry shakes his head. His smile not only reaches his eyes, but it reaches across the expanse of the room. I can actually feel it from where I stand.
    Jordyn’s smile is as big as his.
    And all of a sudden it kind of kills me knowing that I will never, ever have that—the kind of unconditional love only a parent can give—ever again.
    â€œThere you go, GQ,” Henry says. “Give me that model pout.”
    When we finish with this setup, Henry tells me to change back into my normal clothes. Then he takes a few more shots of me in my gray T-shirt. He has me sit on a metal stool in the center of a backdrop the color of faded, weathered wood.
    â€œI really can’t thank you enough for this, Henry.”
    â€œDon’t thank me yet. We gotta go look at the results first.” He pops out the memory card and tells me to have Jordyn load it and let us know when it’s ready.
    I do this on my way to take my stuff back out to my car. She doesn’t look up from her computer or say a word as she snatches the memory card from my hand and plugs it in. When I return, she’s on the phone rearranging the schedule for tomorrow. I peek around the screen, checking if my photos are loaded yet. She swats at me like I’m an annoying fly, but I manage to see the screen