Chapter Text
And I'm giving it my all
But I'm not the guy you're taking home,
I keep dancing on my own— Robyn. Dancing On My Own (2010)
“Cancelled? How can a photographer get cancelled?"
Monday morning. Kane places the tablet on the desk ahead of him. The article headline reads "Brattingham behind the lens! Photographer says musicians are a nightmare to work with." What a way with words the English media had.
"Well we can't trust everything on the internet."
"Jude."
"Alright, but you're trusting an article from—" Jude snatches the tablet swiftly, zooming in on the publisher of the embedded link. "The Sun? Hardly a voice of reason." He pouts. Jude finds himself mirrored on the screen, a photo of him at the Louis Vuitton Spring/Summer Collection in Paris. The headline above in bold. He lingers on the cover. They chose a rather nice photo of him to be fair.
"What matters is you've said it and it hurts our agency, it hurts our brand."
"Harry you know me."
"And I know what's at stake. Have you read what people are saying?"
Jude makes a face. He heard wind, Vini had texted him earlier this morning to avoid socials. He hoped it wouldn't have reached the office before he got there. And yet, here he was being lectured on an offhand comment he had made in confidence. Harry reaches over to swipe one tab over. Twitter is open and Jude's name is trending, wonderful. He thought drama like this might now that he wasn't directly in the spotlight. Jude begins scrolling and reads the cascade of tweets. The expected barrage of hate comments and fanwar threads. He scrolls through quote tweets until he finds what he's looking for — the source video.
There he is, sat front row at the show. A woman with a tiny microphone scoots next to the pair. "Hi Gents, can we get a quick word on your thoughts after tonight's show?"
"Innovative." Vini Jr. says, curt and smooth.
"Chic." Jude adds, the woman draws closer.
"And Jude, having been on the stage so many years and now having to be a spectator. Does it change anything for you?"
"Sure the dynamics are different, but I always aim for my best." He winks.
The journalist thanks them for their time and hurries along. The camera however, lingers. Oh bugger, Jude thinks. He remembers this conversation now. Bits and pieces of it return to his memory. The vertical video has subtitles attached, go figure. Vini playfully shoves Jude's shoulder.
"Always the diplomat when the cameras are rolling. You were just saying how the industry isn't the same!" Vini scoffs. Jude's eyes bulge in a dramatic eye roll.
"Well time and place, I can't tell her that can I? We just watched a few influencers walk down and you're asking a seasoned model about changes? Pff."
"She was looking for a sound bite to clip."
"Course she was mate." Jude blows raspberries lightly, patting down his sweater.
He's here on invitation, maintaining his brand ambassadorship, but it didn't mean he held on to his own ideas. Vini, his loyal plus-one, videographer, lunch partner and gossip confidant continues on.
"Okay but, like you said, modelling isn't the same. You're behind the camera now in the studio. Models know models. Actors. Designers. As a photographer, is there anyone you woudn't—"
"Musicians." Jude answers so fast Vini chortles in surprise.
"That bad?"
Jude nods.
"You didn't even let me finish my question."
"It won't happen. I won't capture them, and I won't cover them. Take it from me Vini, musicians are the most entitled and least professional talent to shoot with. They're lazy, they're selfish, and they're—"
Jude closes the tablet. He couldn't finish. Harry looks as if listening to this aged him by 10 years. Their PR department must be in a wreck. Kane pinches the bridge of his nose, there's no escaping the mess of this. Despite his words being captured off the record, he realizes he should have waited at the very least to have this conversation away from prying eyes and cameras.
You've done it now Jude.
"Technology is progressing faster these days, are we sure this isn't AI?" The excuse is absolute buns, Jude knows he's pleading.
"I thought you may try to spin this, I already spoke to Vini Jr." The lines in Kane's face seem to deepen. "Jude, you see how this looks, right?" His director clasps his hands against the mahagony desk. He levels his gaze upon Jude with an unreadable expression, disappointment mixed with exasperation, a tinge of annoyance. For the first time, in a very long time, Jude fears for his job.
The youngest at Three Lions media firm as an in-house photographer, and to think he was just on the cusp of securing a Vogue cover shoot. This hurts his brand and the image of the agency. Jude has had his fair share of scandals, Kane was certainly aware. But he put his blood and sweat into his work as a photographer. The creative freedom, the creative control behind the lens. He wasn't a model anymore, he had left that life behind. It took everything to get into one of the largest media firms in the country, he'd be damned if he let a mistake like this take it all away from him. People misspoke everyday in this industry.
Jude knew himself, he knew he had a sharp tongue, he knew the way the media could twist his actions. He'd had enough of it as a model. Having built a plethora of relationships behind the curtain, it still took ages for him to be taken seriously as someone who could take photos. Someone who could deliver a vision, to execute creatively, and not simply stand in as a prop. Mistakes happen, that's life.
This is how Jude finds himself jobless, on the couch in sweats, head laid in his mother's lap retelling the story for the millionth time.
"It's just a suspension love." Denise smooths her hand over his hair, she reads the Three Lions public statement opened on her phone. It's damage control, the agency has yet to move forward on their decision.
"To lose a rising talent like you would be a worse loss. They wouldn't let you go so easily." She bends down to plant a kiss on his forehead.
"Thanks Mum."
Jude's phone buzzes against his feet on the other side of the couch. He launches himself up and glances at an the incoming FaceTime call. When he answers he sees a long cascade of ginger locs. Djed peers up at him, his head tipped back in a large black sink as a hairdresser rinses his freshly dyed ends.
"Jude! Hard at work or hardly working?"
"C'mon mate."
"Haha! Couldn't resist." The hairdresser wraps his hair in a towel as they caught up. Djed was a model, the few that remained in Jude's life.
"Listen, I know it's been a rough week for you. Come be my plus-one at this Inter Milan Charity Gala tonight. Some Norwegian band is playing. It may not be your usual crowd but it'll get your mind off things."
Jude contemplates, gnawing at the drawstring of his hoodie nervously. Could he really stand to be seen in public after something like this?
"No press or media inside, don't worry. I've got your back if they try anything."
From the other side of the couch, Denise waves her hand up enthusiastically. "Go!" She whispers. "Have fun, get your mojo back. A mistake like this isn't the end of your career."
"Mumsy is right— Hello Miss! Don't let your agency bully you. Come out and network. Loosen up. The world is bigger than what Three Lions is offering you."
Jude, finally remembering exactly who he was, rises to his feet. He looks down at his sweats and scratches the underside of his patchy chin.
"I'll need a trim then. Can't have you moggin' me. See you at 7."