Porn Star(70)

“I didn’t say that, Devi. I’m trying to get a clear picture of the situation so that I can get you out of this the best I can.”

“Get me out of what? I’m not the one who did anything that needs getting out of. Is LaRue trying to sue or…?” I trail off, overwhelmed by the prospect of a legal battle.

“Yes, he wants to be reimbursed for money lost.” Well, f*ck. There goes my apartment. “But I’m pretty sure I can get him to drop that, Devi. I’m more concerned about what he’s going to do to your reputation going forward.”

“He can shit on my rep all he wants. I’m not doing het porn. I thought I was cut out for it, but I was wrong.” I know it’s not fair to assume all those sets are alike, but I’m not about to take the chance of repeating this afternoon’s experience.

And there’s the other reason I won’t consider doing het porn again anytime soon. The reason that has nothing to do with Bruce or LaRue and that has everything to do with Logan.

Lucy is silent for a second. “It’s not just male/female scenes I’m concerned about. Hagen has a lot of pull in the industry. I’m afraid you’re going to see fallout in your regular jobs as well.”

Shit.

Shit, shit, shit.

I bite the inside of my cheek and fight the new set of tears that are threatening to fall. “Do you think I did the wrong thing by walking off the set?”

“No.” She lets out a heavy sigh. “But there are rules in this industry. Rules I don’t agree with, but they’re there all the same. They’re unethical and illegal even, but very few people take sex workers seriously. If you’re not making any formal allegations then we have a better shot at coming out of this, but it’s going to be hard to not point fingers at something if we’re trying to get out of your contractual obligation to LaRue Hagen’s company.”

I bite my cheek harder, taking in what she’s said. Nothing here is a revelation. I know what kind of world I’m part of. I’m not that ignorant.

“I really f*cked up, didn’t I?” And I don’t mean by walking off the job but by pushing to take it in the first place. By staying in this business instead of figuring out what I really want to do with my life. Because is this really what I want to be doing in five years? In ten? Is porn my passion? Is all of this bullshit worth it?

And wasn’t it just this morning at my shoot with Lynne that I thought I could do this forever?

Well, maybe I could have if I hadn’t f*cked it up.

“Hey. Don’t blame yourself for this. We should be able to salvage your career, though it might be a good idea to focus on just print work for a while.”

“Whatever you think is best.” I’m not so sure. I’m not so sure about anything anymore.

“Out of curiosity—was there a reason in particular that you were wary before you arrived on set?”

There’s a part of me that wants to tell her about Logan, about how I’ve fallen head over heels for him, about how I kind of only want to have sex with him now.

But if I thought I sounded na?ve complaining about Bruce, I can only imagine how na?ve it will sound to declare that I’m in love with a porn star.

So I say, “I just had a bad feeling. That’s all.”

If Lucy senses I’m withholding something, she doesn’t let on. “Sounds like you’ve got good instincts. But it’s probably best we not mention that you had any issues before you walked in. It weakens the argument for the inappropriate work environment. Let’s meet next week, and we can prepare a formal record of complaint as rebuttal against LaRue’s accusation of breach of contract.”

“Okay. But, Lucy? If Hagen tries to make bargains—like, even if he hires a new crew or changes the rules for the set behavior—I don’t want to do a reshoot.”

“I understand.” And though I can tell she truly does, I can also tell that this would be so much easier if I would just agree to do another shoot. Thankfully, she doesn’t say that. “Don’t think about this too much tonight, Dev. Be proud for sticking up for yourself. That took guts. A lot of women wouldn’t have been able to do that.”

I tell her I’ll try to focus on the positive and agree to call her in a day or two. We hang up, and I’m back to where I was before she called—lost and drifting. I need a shower. But I don’t want to go home—I need to not be alone. I need to be somewhere I feel safe and supported.

I’m not sure when or if I actually decide where I’m going, but at some point my driving turns from aimless to purposeful, and before long I’m pulling into his driveway and using the key under the succulent plant to let myself into his house.

Logan’s stretched out on his front room couch. He’s wearing nothing but jeans; his bare feet are crossed at the ankles in front of him as he edits some footage on his laptop.

He sits up, surprised, when I walk in the room, but then I think he must get a good look at me, and his features quickly wrinkle into concern. Instantly, he’s on his feet. “What’s wrong?”

Instead of answering him, I fall into his open arms and let out a raspy, “I need you.” Because, the truth is, now that I’m wrapped in the cocoon of his warmth and his scent and his touch and his him-ness, the answer to his question is, “nothing.”