Stinger (A Sign of Love Novel)(48)

She studied me, her expression softening. "Ah, you fell in love. Well, that'll sometimes do it."

"No, not exactly. I only spent a weekend with her, but–"

"Carson, you fell in love. I see it in your eyes."

I shook my head. "No, really, two and a half days, Courtney. I've just never felt that way about anyone. We–"

She studied me again and I could practically see the wheels turning in her head. She let out a deep breath. "Love doesn't always make sense. And that's the great beauty of it, the great mystery–the thing cynics who scoff at so-called 'insta-love' would bottle if they could. But you can't manufacture mystery, honey. Believe me, I know."

I stared at Courtney, taking in her words, letting them swirl around in my head. "I don't have anything to offer her."

She shook her head slowly. "So change that."

I nodded, looking down at my hands, Grace's face so clear in my mind.

"I think we might have a few things in common, Carson. Can I tell you?"

I looked up at Courtney and she was steepling her fingers again. I nodded.

"My mom was in the business too. I never said anything about it to you, because I know I never liked people bringing it up to me when I wasn't prepared to talk about it. I only know about your situation because I make it my business to know about the people working for me. Also, my mom's story ended a little differently than yours did. My mom overdosed on heroine when I was fifteen. She was a runaway who got into the business when she was sixteen. She lied about her age and started making films. I can't really say that I watched her decline, because I never really knew her when she was anything other than a shell of a person. She could be fun and vivacious when she wanted to be, but those times became few and far between as I became a teenager. Thankfully, my dad was a decent guy who stepped into my life fully when she died. They had had a three-month affair and although he could have tried to deny me based on what my mom did for a living, when she told him she was pregnant with me, he never tried to play that card. I think he had truly and honestly tried to take care of her, but she just wasn't in a place to let him do that. But he took me in and he gave me the stability I had never had. He was a good man… he passed away two years ago from lung cancer."

I couldn't even utter a word. I was so shocked by Courtney opening up to me like this.

"Anyway," she went on, "you can probably put two and two together about why I started this website. A lot of undignified, soul-stealing stuff goes on in this business. And this is a business that attracts people who are the least likely to be able to deal with that kind of thing to begin with." She studied me for a minute. "I started my site because I wanted to inject some heart into a business that's sorely lacking in that. True, the people in my videos are virtual strangers. But I think that showing sex as a natural expression of our physical selves, while also showing that it doesn't have to be degrading to either party is the best I can hope to accomplish here. If porn is always going to exist, and I believe it will, then I want to be responsible for doing it in a way that respects the fact that none of us is only our body–all of us have a heart and a soul, and they can't be separated." She smiled big. I was still trying to keep up.

"What I'm trying to say, is that I'm a fan of love." She laughed softly and rifled through some papers on her desk, choosing one from the pile.

"Now, Carson, from what I recall, we made a change to your contract that amended it to be six months instead of two years. You remember initialing that change, right?" She looked pointedly at me.

"Uh, yeah, I do?" Courtney lowered her chin and looked up at me through her dark lashes. "Yeah, I do," I said more confidently.

"Good. Then according to my calendar," she flipped her desktop calendar back a couple pages, "your contract ran out last week. Good luck in your next endeavor, Carson Stinger. It's been real."

I stared at her. She stared back. I stood up and rubbed my palms on my jean-clad thighs. "Courtney, I don't know how to–"

"Take care of yourself, Carson," she said, not rising from her seat. "And take your cashier's check. If you don't, I'll tear it up."

Right. I picked up the check and stuck it in my pocket. "Courtney. Thank you. You take care of yourself too."

"Oh, I intend to." She smiled at me.

I nodded my head and moved slowly to her door. I looked back once as I put my hand on the handle but she sat unmoving. I nodded at her and opened the door and left.





CHAPTER 15


Two months later, August

Grace



I pulled up in front of my childhood home and smiled to myself. I was tired from having made the eight-hour drive from D.C. to Ohio, but seeing the house gave me a burst of energy. I already knew exactly where my dad was sitting inside that brick Cape Cod–in his ratty, brown recliner in front of the TV, the one he would never give up no matter how much my sisters and I begged him to upgrade. One year, when my sister Audrey was eleven and taking sewing classes, she sewed a slipcover for it with little yellow daisies all over it. My dad looked like he was going to blow a gasket when he saw it, but then he glanced at my sister looking about ready to burst with pride over the perfect fit she had accomplished, and he sat down in it and said, "Well Audrey Bug, I didn't know anything could make this chair more comfortable, but I think you've done it." Then he made a big show of adjusting himself just right and laying his head back with a satisfied smile. Yeah, my dad was a good guy.