Cammers With Benefits

“Spare time?” I ask as if the idea is a foreign concept.

“You must have a hobby or way to pass the time,” Jack prods.

I stare up at the ceiling for a second, the reflections off the countless angles in the brass ceiling dazzling my eyes. Jack might be insanely good-looking, and obviously rich to boot. And I might be missing Brice wildly, but I’m not about to open up to this man. Not so quickly anyway. So when my gaze comes back down, I lie. “I don’t have anything like that.”

Jack finishes the rest of his drink in a single gulp. A slight grimace crosses his face before he asks, “Then if you suddenly had time and money, what would you like to do? Everyone has something they daydream about.”

Again, I envision the old theater on Main Street fixed up. Imagine walking past the ticket counter and through the double doors to be greeted with my paintings hung on every wall. I event dare to see myself and Brice cuddled up in the center of the empty theater, only half-watching the movie as our embrace deepens.

But I’m not about to say any of this out loud. Instead, I shrug my shoulders, knowing that I’m being an absolutely terrible date.

And that’s when it hits me: this is a date.

I didn’t realize it until now because of everything else going on around me. I’ve been too preoccupied wondering what I can say to Brice, because the truth is that eventually I will have to talk to him. Then there was the fire and wondering if I was the cause. Even sitting here with Jack, drinking at this fancy bar, my brain simply didn’t have the capacity to figure out what this was. But it’s clear as the ball of ice inside my lowball glass.

This is a date.

Jack calls the waiter over and orders two more drinks. Whiskey, I’m assuming, from the Scottish-sounding names. When they arrive, he raises his glass in a toast.

“To our future.” He clinks my glass.

“Our future?” I ask.

“Yes,” he says and takes a sip. “I’ve decided. I want you. As a business partner, that is. We’ll work together on screen and off. Makes oodles of money. In the meantime, you can figure out what you’re going to with all that cash. Because I’ll make you very, very rich.” He tilts his head in a questioning gesture. “So what do you say? Partners?”

Chapter 16

After draining the second glass, my mind pulls against its tethers, bouncing around in the fierce, whiskey-fueled winds. It’s at this point I remember that I never did eat anything today. The pizza I ordered is cold on my couch by now. Unlike Brice who has someone to keep him warm.

Jack is waiting for my answer, his eyebrows raised. But even in my inebriated state, I’m not quite ready to relinquish all control of my future to this gorgeous man I barely know.

“I’m going to need to sleep on it.”

“What you need is to sleep under me,” Jack says matter-of-factly. “All that filming you’ve been doing. Getting yourself off. How long has it been since you performed with a partner—on or off the screen?”

This conversation has taken a sudden personal turn. Even though we work in the porn industry, I’ve always worked either alone or with Brice. I’ve never confronted the kind of talk that must go on between adult actors all the time.

I swallow hard, turning my attention to my empty glass. “Brice’s accident was about a month ago, so….”

“So more than a month? I can’t believe I’m saying this to a fellow performer, but you need to get laid.”

I lick my lips at the mere thought of this proposition. Allow myself, even if just for a moment, to imagine what it might be like under Jack’s care. I’m sure he would bring me back to his place, which judging by everything he’s shown me would be large, well-decorated, and designed for animal comfort. We would fall into his bed, and thanks to his career, I h

ave no doubt Jack would please me in all the ways a woman desires. I remember Jade’s reactions to his body. If that was all an act, she deserves all the Oscars.

I bet that Jack would touch me in ways that even Brice never has.

Brice.

Now my mind’s eye looks back. Imagines a different scenario. Wonders what Brice is doing now. If that nurse is with him. Perhaps she snuck back in his room and fell asleep beside him, curled up under the stiff hospital blanket. I know what I saw, and I know what it must mean, but there’s a part of me that can’t give up hope. And it’s this part that somehow overpowers my hormones and replies, “Like I said, I’ll need to sleep on it.”

Jack holds his hands up as if in defense of his constant flirting. “Fine. I get it. Sentimental to a fault and all that. You just let me know when and where. More importantly, you think about my business proposition. I could use someone who’s more than just a pretty body. You’ve got the brains to boot. Otherwise, you wouldn’t have made it so long on your own.”

Five hours and far too many drinks later, we finally emerge from the speakeasy. What with the fire and the drinking, I’ve managed to be out all night with Jack. Brice would undoubtedly cringe if he only heard that part, but the truth is that Jack is nothing like his on-camera persona. Still, I half expect him to be stupid enough to hop in the driver’s seat of his Audi, despite his inebriation, but he surprises me again when he walks over to a taxi waiting just on the side of the road. He slides in the back seat and beckons me in.

“Jackson and 3rd,” he says to the driver, who nods. “What about you?”

“354 Brown….” I begin to slur, but my voice trails off as I wonder if this is where I want the night to end. It's the uncertainty of what I’ll do when I wake with a hangover and no filming to busy myself with. Should I give Brice a chance to explain? Do I even want to chance running into that nurse again? Isn’t it better to avoid everything than to confront the reality that I’ve already lost Brice?