Double Take: A Leading Man Romance (13 page)

“Lori?” Kylie is floored. My relationship with her goes further back than most people realize.

“She wasn’t quite as…
plastic
then. She was this gorgeous thirty-something year old, charming as hell. A porn star herself, and I wasn’t about to pretend that I didn’t know exactly who she was. We struck up a conversation and she slipped me her card.”

“Did you sleep with her?”

“No. Never. But she did bring me in to meet her manager. She said I had
intense eyes
. I didn’t think I’d do it at first, but when I saw the contract, and the amount of money they were offering…”

“You thought you’d be an idiot to turn it down.”

“Exactly. And I thought… it’s just a few films. Just enough to pay back my parents so they could buy their place again, or at least one as amazing.”

Kylie seems riveted, and she shifts to face me a little better. “Did you tell them?”

I can’t help but smile a little. “Not at first, no. But the money was too good, and I got a small fanbase pretty quickly. I quit my job temping and told my parents.”

“How did they take it?”

I smirk, amused. “They’re Conservative Jews. How do you think?”

“Shit.”

“They’ve since come to terms. Accepted it, at least. Not like they have a choice. But I’ve been able to help take care of them, and that’s all that mattered to me at the time.”

“So why move on?”

That’s the question of the decade. The backs of my fingers subconsciously run over her elbow as it props up on the back of the couch. “Because sooner or later, you realize that money isn’t everything. You get everything you think you want, and you realize that all you’ve got is a penthouse and fake relationships with fake women with fake tits.”

Kylie is quiet as she averts her eyes, and I wonder if I’ve overstepped some boundary. I retract my fingers quickly.
No harm no foul, maybe
. But instead, she says, “That’s what this was with Rob, wasn’t it? Fake. I thought it was real, and I thought he was good for me, but it was all just a big sandcastle. I loved the idea of him, I loved having him. I loved his wit and his charm, but I didn’t even consider the fact that he was the master at it.”

“You know now,” I insist, and lean in slightly as though to drive home my point. “And maybe it’s not as good as knowing from the beginning, but it should be good enough. I’m starting over. You can, too.”

Kylie shifts, scooting closer, and she lays her head down against my chest. I wrap both arms around her tightly to cradle her there. It’s an innocent gesture from both of us, but I pray she can’t hear my heart pounding in my chest. I’m laid more bare than she is at the moment, and I swallow hard to try and hide it.

“I want to make my own movie,” she says in a small voice, even though her words are firm and even.

“You will,” I assure her, resting my chin on the top of her head.

Rob doesn’t know that I know.

I’m not sure if Brett said anything to him, but I secretly hope not. I’d like to handle this in my own way, at my own time. And simply telling
him that I’m aware of his womanizing ways seems too good for him.

I refuse to be trivial, but I’m at least going to have the last say.

Rob finds me in the morning with the equipment again, under a tent in the backyard, waiting for the rest of the crew to finish breakfast. He hands me a breakfast burrito, and offers me a smile. He’s feeling me out. Some kind of shoe dropped yesterday, and he wants to see what I know. “I missed you last night.”

I deserve a Best Actress award myself. I look apologetic, endeared, and incredibly honored. “Yeah, I missed you, too. But I know you were busy.”
Fucking your wife?

“There’s so much that goes into this thing.”

“Oh, I get it. Believe me.”

Rob leans forward to catch my lips, but I stop him by lifting the burrito and taking a large bite. He retracts at the last moment with a laugh. “Jesus, I almost face-planted into your breakfast.”

I’ve got a mouth full as I say, “Sorry. Starving.”

I’m saved by Keith’s beckon of, “Rob, we need you.”

Rob gives me a smile and holds up a finger. “To be continued.”

“Absolutely.”

Brett stayed the night with me. It didn’t happen on purpose, but the news of Rob’s wife evidently drained me more than I’d thought and I fell asleep on his chest. I guess he was too afraid to move me or wake me, because when I woke up with the dawn, he was still in the same position. I wondered if he’d gotten any sleep at all.

I’d drooled on his shirt.

He finds me as Rob is leaving, and points to him as he goes. His voice is low as he speaks to me. “Did you tell him?”

“Not yet.” I pluck a piece of sausage from the burrito and pop it between my lips as I motion to the Tupperware in Brett’s hand. “Cold meat?”

He grins, holding up a piece of salmon with his fork. “I’m predictable. It was the only thing in the fridge in my trailer.”

I hold out my plate to him in offering. “Wanna trade? You could use a few extra pounds. My neck is sore from laying on you all night. You’re like stone.”

“Your neck is sore? My chest is wet.”

I roll my eyes, but I’m amused still. Brett has humanized himself. He’s impressed me. He’s helped
me. “Next time, I’ll give you a poncho,” I tell him.

He takes a bite of fish as he leans against a bit of spare table. “At least you got some sleep. You look one hell of a lot better than you did when I got to the door last night.”

“That was for different
reasons.”

“I figured.”

I take another bite from the burrito, biding time to comment as I chew, and finally I ask the question that had been burning since he called me last night. “How did you find out?”

Brett glances down briefly. He’s guarding the secret, and considering how to approach it. “Just a… rumor around set.”

Melanie. It hits me like a ton of bricks. I’d thought there was something going on between the two of them when I saw them talking. It had been so obvious to me then, and I feel incredibly stupid for not listening to my gut.

“I see.”

He nods and confirms, “Rumor also has it he’s in the middle of a divorce, but I don’t know if he’ll settle down long enough to sign a fucking paper.”

I’m resigned now. It’s over. My fly-by-night romance is done and I have more that I’ve gained than lost. “Enough about him. I’ll deal with him when it’s the right time. The movie is still… it still has precedence.”

I think it surprises—or maybe impresses—Brett. “That’s big of you.”

I shrug. “I’m not going to give up on this opportunity just because I got involved with someone who didn’t work out.”

“Probably better that way.”

Karen appears from inside the house and calls out, “Brett! You’re needed in makeup!”

Brett looks at me and smirks, as though I’m in on a joke now. “Looks like I’m being beckoned.”

“Do you think
makeup
is the code word for anything?”

Brett rolls his eyes as he pushes off of the table and starts to the house. “Yeah. Code word for
I’m a fucking dick
.”

As he disappears into the house I realize how much better I feel. Maybe it’s a weird calm before the storm, but I can’t lose something that wasn’t mine to begin with. Rob and I had a few incredible nights together, but they were as real as the fantasies he directs for his films. It was beautiful while it lasted, but there’s nothing in its wake except for the realization that it would never have worked out in the first place.

Rob was nothing but an illusion. I held him in such high regard for so long that I didn’t realize that he thought he was beyond reproach. Maybe he is getting a divorce, but even so, he didn’t tell me. He just assumed
I wouldn’t care. He took away my choices, a hands-on director even in his own life, and that’s not something I could live with anyway.

I massage the crick in my neck a little as I realize that my luck doesn’t live and die with Rob, and neither does my career. It was a lovely change for a short while, but Brett is completely right: I’m better than this.

The day goes by quickly, and I’m cheery through the whole thing, which surprises me. I take advantage of the fact that Rob hangs back and I leave without even saying goodbye. I go home alone and settle into bed with my laptop. I open up my screenwriting software and begin to type.

INT. PORN STUDIO - Night

MALE comes into frame. This is our HERO.

We shoot until nearly one in the morning. Everyone is exhausted. I wonder if Rob keeps us here so late so he doesn’t have to go home and deal with the life he wants to escape through the lens of his camera.

Kylie leaves almost as soon as the crew is released. I don’t blame her. I also don’t follow her. If she wanted me there, she would have asked.

I pick up a fifth of Johnny Walker Black Label and head home instead. I’m exhausted myself, and with little to no sleep the night before, I’m even worse off. But my brain is on autopilot and it’s having a hard time shutting off, but it’s nothing a little single malt can’t fix.

I pour myself a hefty glass on the rocks and settle onto my sofa, unwinding. I toe off my shoes and let out a breath that I’ve been holding for far too long today, and I feel better. I feel vindicated. It’s not something I wanted to be right about. The last thing I’d ever want was for Kylie—or anyone for that matter—to be hurt like this. But it’s better she learned now than later.

I take a sip. The scotch is warm, yet it cools my mind almost immediately. My phone beeps, a text from Kylie. I unlock my phone as fast as I can to read it.

You’re probably asleep right now, but when you get this, I wanted to ask you a few questions. See you later!

I take a picture of the scotch in my hand and send it along to her with a message of my own.
Freshly home and enjoying the evening. Fire away
.

I’m waiting for a bubble to pop up to indicate Kylie is typing, but it doesn’t. I wonder if she sent the text and went to bed herself. But my phone begins to buzz instead.

She’s calling.

I answer a little too quickly for me to pretend as though I wasn’t waiting for some sign from her. “You realize you have to be on set in five or six hours, right?”

“Don’t you, too?” She’s smiling. I can hear it in her voice.

“Eight. Check your call sheet.” I pause. “What did you want to know about?”

“Porn.” Any hint of the Kylie who admonished me for my career or reluctantly admitted to watching my work is gone. Instead, she sounds amped up, and wired.

“Porn? As in, the thing I do for a living?”

“Yeah. I started writing. It’s a screenplay, actually, and I wanted to know a little bit about how the industry works.”

I bark a laugh, trying not to be delighted by this change of events. “There is not enough scotch in the world to have prepared me for that question, Kylie. Holy shit.”

“Yeah, yeah, get it out. Start me out with terms. The basics.”

“Terms?”

“Yeah, like… fetishes, or
kinks
, I guess.”

I balance the phone against my ear so I can rub my hand over my mouth. She’s taking this so seriously, and she’s in for one hell of an education. I couldn’t be more amused to give it to her. “Okay, so let’s start with the basics. I think you can figure out what orgies are. Blowjobs, anal, doggie, interracial, deepthroat… those are pretty self-explanatory.”

I hear her typing quickly in order to keep up with me. “Yeah, I got those.”

“Alright, so then we’ve got BDSM, acronym for Bondage, Domination, Sadism, and Masochism. There are a few variances out there, but that’s the predominant one.”

“Whips and chains? That kind of thing?”

“Yeah, or just plain domination. It can be a mental thing, too.
Yes Master
, or
no Ma’am,
that kind of thing.”

“Got it… okay. Next?”

“Bukakke.”

“Boo… what?”

I snort a laugh, trying not to scar her too deeply when she’s actually trying to learn something. “Bukkake. B-U-K-K-A-K-E. It’s when a bunch of guys come on a girl’s face.”

“Thrilling. And you’ve done that?”

I can’t help but smirk. “Just assume I’ve done everything I’m telling you about.”

“Noted. What else?”

“Creampie.”

There’s a pause, and I wait out her reaction to it. It’s what I expected. “Sex with food?”

“No,” I say plainly. “It’s when a guy comes in a woman’s pussy and then..
.”

There’s another pause, and I wonder if she’ll hang up. She doesn’t. What comes next is pure curiosity. “I thought there were laws that said you had to wear condoms.”

“There are regulations on porn sets, and some people are fighting for those laws to be in effect, yeah.”

“Do you want that?”

I take a small sip of scotch, debating honesty here. I finally decide that she asked because she wanted to know. She said she was writing about the industry, so I’m going to be honest about the industry. “No. I don’t think porn actors and actresses should be required to use condoms or dental dams, if proper safety precautions are taken and regulations are followed.”

“So… you don’t use condoms when you film?”

“Me personally? I’ve used condoms for the last four or five years, but that’s my choice. Before then, no, I didn’t always.”

“What made you start? If you don’t think it should be required, I mean.”

“I don’t want to risk it.”

Kylie lets out a small hum, like she’s considering the words. “That makes sense. You’re… thirty-four?”

“Yes.”

“Yeah. Makes sense.”

I smile. “Are you saying I’m old?” I shift the phone and hold it between my ear and shoulder so I can have a hand free to grab a throw pillow. I toss it to the far end of the sofa and lay down, lowering the scotch to the floor beside of me.

“Yeah I am, Grandpa. Okay. Give me one more term.”

One more. I’ve got to make it a good one. “Hm.” From my place here, my eyes are growing heavier. I fight to stay awake, but now that I’m horizontal, I’m losing steam fast. “Mature,” I manage, my voice lower.

“Isn’t
all
porn mature?”