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I held up my hand. "The terms of the contract that we wrote up for the shoot at the Wine Club clearly stated that RLC Imaging would not retain any photos in which the subject could be identified. The memory cards are yours not ours," I said.
"I love you like crazy you know that," Cynthia smiled at me, "but don't try to outfox me in business. I never signed a contract so that agreement isn't enforceable."
Ted gave me a look that clearly meant, "watch out boy".
"You're going to need all of these photos for your next exhibit. I've got a show booked in two months and I expect to see it all on display. Lots of work to do between now and then." She folded my fingers over the memory chips.,
The familiar roller coaster thrill spread through me as I realized how explicit the exhibit would be and that we'd all be exposed, larger than life, for public viewing. When our friend and business partner said her next words, Barbara clutched at my knee, her excitement rising along with mine.
"Besides," Cynthia said with an intense look in her eyes, " I want you and that smokin' hot wife of yours to keep these as a memory, and as an invitation for more."
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