Naomi looked down at her crotch and gasped in mock horror. “What’s she gonna do when she finds out?”
“She’s not gonna find out. Trust me. There’s no way that girl watches porn.”
“Haven’t you heard? We’re mainstream now. Elle, Cosmopolitan, BuzzFeed. Everyone and their mother is talking about our last video. Even nice girls know how to use the Internet, Josh.”
“Speaking of that video,” he said. “I’ve got a meeting with Bennie tonight. He wants to discuss my contract. I’m hoping he’s got an extension for me to sign.”
Naomi wrinkled her nose at the mention of his agent. He could admit that Bennie fit the profile of a smarmy bastard, but he’d picked up Josh like a stray cat back when he was an aimless college dropout living on dollar tacos and breath mints.
“Don’t give me that look. I’ve spent two years shackled to a shitty stock agreement. I’m sick of wearing a leash. I want to work with other studios. Hell, I’d like to cut a profit on my own films. Mainstream coverage means big money, right? We gotta double down on our fifteen minutes. It’s now or never.”
No matter what happened in their personal lives, their professional success tangled together until sometimes he didn’t know where Naomi Grant’s career stopped and Josh Darling’s began. If she wouldn’t capitalize on their chance at real stardom, he’d have to grab her hand and drag her along.
That woman had ten times more brains than anyone in this business gave her credit for, which was exactly the way she liked it. She dealt in secrets like currency, and they bought her half the industry wrapped around her little finger. The whole business would turn upside down if she ever got inspired to make a fuss.
When Naomi hopped off the countertop and headed for the door, she had her professional mask back on. “Good luck,” she told him, striding past in a wave of spicy perfume. “Bennie is almost as cheap as he is repugnant. Trusting him is gonna get you screwed one of these days, and not in the way you like.”
chapter five
THE FIRST TIME Josh met Bennie, his future agent declared him the biggest knucklehead he’d encountered in almost three decades in the porn business.
Since that day, over two years before, they’d met for burgers countless times.
Bennie’s favorite burger came from a landmark diner in Glendale founded sometime in the 1950s. To this day, the interior of the establishment evoked images of sock hops and waitresses on roller skates. They probably filmed sitcoms here during off-peak hours.
Josh spotted his agent’s shiny bald head at a table in the back. Bennie didn’t look up from his phone when Josh scooted into the sticky vinyl booth across from him, but he did grunt in his general direction. Josh accepted this ritual greeting. He’d spent enough time with Bennie to know that the man issued few words and most of them were expletives anyway.
Bennie smoked unfiltered cigarettes and spat on the sidewalk, but he knew everyone who mattered and never took a vacation, which made Josh’s life significantly easier.
“How’s it going, Ben?”
The portly man raised his eyes to take in Josh sitting across from him and grinned. “How do you fucking do, Darling?”
Josh pointed to a discarded plate of soggy fries and a sad sliver of bun. “I see you’ve started without me.”
“Ah, I’m sorry. You know me, always starving.” Bennie swiveled the plate in offering so the remaining fries faced Josh.
Ugh. He squirmed and shoved the plate away blindly.
“Oh fuck.” Bennie threw a napkin over the plate. “I forgot about your ketchup thing again. Forgive me.”
“It’s fine,” Josh said, willing his stomach to settle.
“Is it because it looks like blood?” Bennie waved his hand to bring over their server.
People always asked that. Josh shook his head, not trusting himself to open his mouth at the moment.
A sunshiny waitress approached the table in no particular hurry. She looked down her nose at Bennie but brightened considerably when her eyes found Josh. “What can I do for you two?”
Josh’s ears perked up at the attention. He couldn’t help it. He specialized in waitresses. They worked similar hours to him and always brought home free food. Naomi gave him flak for his indiscrimination when it came to women, but he didn’t mind. He could always find something to like. Hell, even Clara, who had Don’t even think about it stamped across her forehead, got his motor running.
“Do ya wanna hear the specials?” Fried onions sizzled on the grill behind her.
“He’ll have the burger. Medium. Fries. Extra crispy,” Bennie said, eyes back on his phone.
She scribbled the order on her pad and pouted at the stolen opportunity to linger.
“Extra pickles,” Josh added, giving her his smile at eighty watts. The way she chewed on her pen as she walked away gave him the sneaking suspicion that unleashing the full force of his grin would be writing checks he wasn’t prepared to cash.
Putting his palm over Bennie’s phone, he tipped his head toward the waitress stand. “Hey, you don’t remember by any chance if . . .”
“Yeah, you fucked her the last time we were here.”
Josh frowned. He didn’t remember the sex, the hallmark of a lackluster performance. He tried to recall the last time he’d had sex with only one girl without cameras. Sometime last year, when he and Naomi could hardly stand each other, they’d opened their relationship to external partners beyond work. At first, he’d enjoyed feasting at L.A.’s buffet of babes, but like anything else too readily available, even pussy got boring.
Bennie shuffled the stack of papers in front of him, reminding Josh of the purpose of their meeting.
“So?” Josh leaned in and tapped the table with both palms. “What have you got for me?”
Bennie handed over the documents.
Two years ago, a few days into shooting his first adult film, Josh had “taken a meeting” with a man from Black Hat Studios. The smooth-as-glass executive had plied him with Johnnie Walker Blue and extended an exclusive contract within thirty minutes of meeting him. Josh, still flush from the fact that someone, anyone, wanted to pay him to fuck, had quickly signed on the dotted line.
The contract meant three years of steady paychecks. It also meant he couldn’t work independently or for any other studios, sell his own merchandise, or make any public appearances without Black Hat Studios’ explicit approval.
That one night had cost Josh thousands in missed royalties alone. He’d asked Bennie last week to meet with the studio on his behalf, try to grease the wheels a little, and see if maybe the higher-ups would renegotiate a year early.