Henry finished his business at the bank and headed straight to a photo studio. This type of shop—once common in the 1990s—was nearly extinct in the 2020s. In Los Angeles, of all places, these studios were everywhere, lined with glamorous portraits and polished headshots displayed in storefronts. Some showcased striking models; others featured famous actors from past eras. Everyone used these images to chase fame or hold onto memories: tourists wanted souvenir snapshots, and aspiring actors needed impressive headshots for auditions. No photo, no career—or even a job.
For Henry, aesthetics didn't matter much—he needed a clean headshot for identification. The one Old Tom snapped for him in Alaska was a disaster. Poor lighting made him look like he crawled out of a grave. With a height chart behind him and a name tag below, the photo looked like a mugshot. His passport and license were stamped, so he couldn't replace them—but he would have, given the chance.
In L.A., joining the Screen Actors Guild, signing with an agency, or just applying for any work required a formal headshot. There was no smartphone workaround like today—no finding a white wall, snapping a selfie, and photoshopping it. In the 1990s, digital cameras were bulky prototypes. Film photography and studio development were the norm. You needed a professional studio.
Henry found one near his motel. It was still early, and the studio door swung open as he entered. A greasy, balding old man waddled up, belly leading the way, chuckling.
"Welcome! What kind of photos do you want?"
"The usual," Henry replied. "A headshot."
The old man launched into a sales pitch:
"A wedding photo shoot is six thousand six hundred dollars. Family portraits four thousand two hundred. Actor audition headshots three thousand eight hundred. And an artistic portrait set costs two thousand two hundred. Outdoor shoots add photographer and assistant fees—you'll get at least three rolls of film. Bring a second customer and get 20% off. Act fast!"
Henry blinked. What was this guy selling—a photo shoot or a private jet?
"This feels like walking into a Ferrari dealership when I wanted a scooter," he thought. He swallowed and tried again. "I just want a headshot."
"Nah, think about preserving your youth," the old man replied. "When you're old and your teeth fall out, you'll regret not doing this."
Henry rolled his eyes. "Just a headshot."
The old man lowered his voice. "Too bad—I'd love to use my skill, but fine. Just headshots."
Henry shrugged. "I want twelve 2‑inch photos and twelve 1‑inch ones. Price?"
"Sixty dollars flat."
That sounded reasonable. The old man brightened. Maybe too bright.
He asked, "You want top-quality? I can do it for you."
Henry shook his head. "Thirty dollars. Half the deposit now."
The old man scowled. "Thirty? You must be Jewish," he muttered.
Henry bit back a reaction. "Too bad I'm not. I'm an alien." He snapped his fingers, hoping the guy would drop the comment.
"No artistic shots?" the man pressed. "Missed opportunity."
Henry sighed. "No thanks. Headshot only."
Price negotiations began: "Fifty—can't go lower."
"Thirty."
"No, forty—covering only materials!"
Henry turned to leave.
"Thirty!" the man shouted. "I'll take a loss for you. Damn, I wish the Fuhrer had done his job better on D-Day."
Henry paused mid-step. The old man had lost it—but still, thirty sounded fair.
Henry counted his money: fifteen-dollar bills clutched in his hand. He slammed fifteen on the counter.
The man glared. Henry pointed at a CRT computer behind him—huge screen, deep-set towers—STARK emblazoned on the case.
"Stark Industries?" Henry asked. "What CPU you running?"
The old man's face lit up. "Kid's got taste! It's got Intel's latest i486, 120 MB hard drive, VGA display card—not CGA or EGA, but full 256‑color VGA. Floppy drives—3.5" and 5.25"—and CD-ROM, blazing fast. Stark brand boutique model—not something Dell or IBM can match at this price."
Henry snorted. "Yeah, I'm about ready to wet myself in shock."
Flashback: Shopping, 1990s L.A.
In those days, photographs had weight. Actors couldn't shoot selfies on phones—they needed someone like this old man. The world had moved on, but Henry had to catch up on their terms: sit still, look professional, grin one way, reflect the other. And pay decent money for it.
That money...
Henry reached into his pocket: fifteen dollars. Not enough for full studio service, but enough for materials and maybe labor, if the old man ate losses.
The old man counted the bills, shook his head but smiled. "Fine. Photo's 30 total—15 now, 15 later when you pick up. Good deal."
Henry nodded. "Deal."
He handed over the cash and watched the man load film into a camera. He'd pick up tomorrow morning.
On his way out, Henry couldn't resist one more look back. The fatty was already bragging to someone else. Probably selling them full packages.
Henry shrugged and walked out. Paid, done, headshot incoming.
Analysis and Setting
This chapter captures the 1990s L.A. photo studio experience: analog film, high-pressure upselling, and charmingly outdated tech. Let's break it down:Photo Studio Culture: Studios were littered with glossy images—Hollywood's influence permeated everyday life. Auditions, IDs, tourist pictures—they all demanded professional film photos.Henry's Discomfort: He's practical—not chasing art or nostalgia. He needs a headshot, period. The salesman's pitch rubs him wrong—glossy extras, nostalgia trip, overpriced gimmicks.Bartering and Misogyny: The trader's negotiation style borders on offensive—calling Henry names, anti-Semitic/cold war references. Henry's quip, "I'm an alien," shows his exasperation and detachment.Tech Nostalgia: The foray into computer talk—"i486," "120 MB HDD," "256‑color VGA"—roots the story squarely in the early to mid-90s. Stark Industries, floppy drives, CD-ROM—that's the era.Economic Contrast: $30 for around 24 small prints—insurance vs studio upsells of thousands. Blue-collar wages in the US hovered around $3K–$4K monthly, making $30 a small but not negligible hit.Dialogue PolishWanted to tighten the salesman's dialogue for clarity.Henry's thoughts made more concise.Cultural references cleaned up for tone and pacing.
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