Mr. July
By Drew Hunt
Once Sam Crawford had laid out the dozen blank calendar sheets on his clients’ dining table, he began to lay the photographs on top. “Obviously, the picture and calendar will all be one sheet in the final version. I’ve just done it like this in case you wanted to swap any of the pictures around or choose a different shot of the same player.” Although they’d met the previous week to decide on the final dozen images, Sam certainly wasn’t opposed to making changes if his clients had had second thoughts.
Neil Rawlings, or Raw as Sam had been asked to call him, grunted.
“Wow, these’ve come out really well!” Gary, Raw’s husband, exclaimed. “So much better all blown up like this than squished on your iPad screen.”
Raw grunted in agreement. Raw was the strong silent type
