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I stole another quick glance at Connie’s face. Her eyes sparkled with brimming tears. “I just want you to talk to her, Rick,” she said softly. “I just want you to be you. Tell her what she needs to know. That’s all I ask.”
I nodded… and then put an edge to my voice. “Is this why you hate the porn industry? Is this why you were so resentful when you first arrived to interview me?”
Connie shrugged her shoulders and then glanced at me with a look like she had been caught with her hand in the cookie jar. “Yes,” she said. “I’m sorry. When I found out th
at Roxy was being coerced by this man to make a porn film, I got angry,” she said. “And when the opportunity arose to interview someone from the porn industry, I saw it as my last chance to understand – or maybe to try to make Roxy understand. When I met you, I didn’t hate you. I hated that my daughter was being preyed upon.”
I took the turn and then slowed to a crawl. We were on a narrow grimy suburban street. Run-down buildings lined the litter-strewn sidewalk. Old beat-up cars were parked at haphazard angles along the curb. At the end of the street, I saw a young girl in ragged clothes pushing a stroller.
“This is it!” Connie said urgently. “This is where she is being filmed.”
We found the building and I parked. I sat for a moment, staring across at Connie. Muted sounds of base-thumping music filled the air outside the car.
“What do you want me to do?” I asked again.
Connie turned to me. She reached for my hand and the grip of her fingers were fierce. “She’s a good girl, Rick. She’s my daughter. She is the only good thing that came from a brief and terrible marriage a long time ago. She’s still a teenager – she doesn’t know what the world is like. She’s doing this…” Connie shook her head uncertainly, “… she’s doing this to punish me, or maybe to show me that she’s her own woman with her own mind capable of making her own decisions.” The air seemed to go out of Connie like she was suddenly drained or exhausted. She sighed one last long breath and squeezed my fingers. “I just want you to talk to her.”
We got out of the car and Connie took my hand and led me to a doorway. She was anxious, bristling with wrought nerves and tension. Her eyes searched mine.
“Please say you’ll help me.”
I nodded. “I’ll help you.”
We went in through the door and I stood in a dingy narrow hallway. There was water-stained wallpaper peeling off the walls and a riot of graffiti sprayed over an opposite doorway. The room smelled of urine and decomposition. I crossed the hall, pushed open the door – and stood there with Connie close at my side. The room was large. There were windows along one wall. Several panes of glass were broken and the rest were hazed in a film of thick dust so that the light was gloomy and dull. The room was large – like maybe it had once been a reception area or foyer for some kind of business. The floor was covered with old newspapers and in the far corner of the room a young woman was on her back, laying on a stained rumpled mattress set down on the hard floor. Kneeling between her spread legs was an overweight man, maybe fifty. He was naked. There was a thick pelt of dark hair matted across his chest and across the broad of his back. His face was pinched and seedy, and he was sweating profusely. The stink of him mingled with a swirl of stale cigarette smoke and hung thick in the air. The man had a small hand-held camera up to his eye as he plunged himself in and out of the girl’s pussy.
Sitting on the floor nearby, knees tucked to her chin, arms hugged tightly around her legs, was a pretty young girl with enormous eyes set into an attractive pale face. The girl had long dark hair that hung past her shoulders. She was staring at the man as he rutted into the girl on the mattress in a series of oily obese lunges.
The pretty girl’s head turned slowly towards me.
“My daughter,” Connie said with a heartbreaking expression of torture on her face. “That’s Roxy.”
“Who’s the other girl? Who’s the one on the bed?”
Connie shook her head. She didn’t know.
The man on the mattress was grunting. I could hear the girl’s breath choking in her throat as she lay beneath him like she was made of stone. Her eyes were screwed tightly shut and she was biting on her bottom lip. I could see the loathing and sense of violation etched into the grimace of her expression. The man leered down at the girl.
“That’s it, you horny slut,” the man grunted. His lips were slack with desire, exposing a mouthful of bad teeth, and there was a froth of spittle on his lips. “Keep that tight little snatch of yours nice and wet for me until I’m ready to come.”
I had seen enough.
“Go and get Roxy,” I said.
I strode across the room and as I crossed the floor, the man suddenly turned his head and his eyes were wide with shock and then astonishment and then finally outrage and confusion. “What the fuck –!”
I reached down and fisted a handful of wiry coarse hair. The man shrieked like a girl. I heaved him to his feet. There was a simmer of red rage behind my eyes. The guy stank of sweat and alcohol – the odor wrinkling in my nostrils. I glared at him, thin lipped with fury. “Let the girls go,” I hissed.
The guys face became swollen and contorted with defiance, and then an instant later it melted away. “Hey!” the guy said suddenly, and I caught a whiff of his rank fetid breath. “You’re Rick fucking Cassidy! Jesus, you’re Rick fucking Cassidy!”
I nodded. “I know,” I said. “Who the fuck are you?”
The man suddenly thrust his hand out at me, his face alight and giddy. “Man, it’s an absolute fucking honor to meet you. You’re a legend, an absolute legend,” he gushed. “My name is Jimmy D.” I ignored his hand. I let go of the handful of hair I held and thumped the man in the middle of his chest with the point of my finger.
“You’re finished with these girls,” I said suppressing my rage just enough to snarl the words. “Have you touched the young one yet?”
The guy’s head swung to where Connie was kneeling beside her daughter. The guy shook his head. “Not yet,” he said. “But she signed a waiver.”
I felt my hands clench into tight fists. “Get it,” I said. “I want to see where she signed and while you’re at it, get the other girl’s too.”
The man spun in a daze for a moment and then seemed to remember. He went naked to a briefcase in the opposite corner of the room that I hadn’t noticed before. He came back waving a sheath of papers in his fat hand. “Signed, and all legal,” the guy said. A trickle of sweat ran down his brow and across his shiny face. He ignored it.
I snatched the pages from out of the guy’s hand, and tore them into shreds without even glancing at them.
“Hey!” the guy started to protest.
I snapped at him. “Shut up!” I spat the words like venom.
I looked past his shoulder to where the young woman lay on the mattress. She had her knees pressed together now, and had wrapped her hands over her body in a pathetic attempt to cover herself. She was staring back at me with dull out-of-focus eyes. I turned my attention back to the guy. I wrapped one muscled arm around the back of the man’s neck in a kind of headlock and pulled him close so that only he could hear the menace in my voice.
“This is what’s going to happen,” I told him. “Both of these girls are going to walk out of here. Then you are going to erase the footage you have filmed of the girl on the bed.” The guy started to get tense and I tightened the muscles in my forearms like a boa constrictor strangling a victim. “After you do that, I am going to film a promo for you. I will stand right beside you and tell the world what a good friend of mine you are and how great your films are.”
The guy looked surprised.
“Then I’m going to hurt you.”
The guy balked. His eyes became wide and fearful for a second as he realized what I’d said, and that I meant every word of it. He started to squirm, his sweating body slick and oily. I moved my arm so that there was pressure beneath his jaw, forcing his neck back until he was straining against me, and his eyes grew very wide with panic.
“Okay,” the guy went limp in a rush of breath. His arms flapped a little and then he stopped resisting. “Okay,” he said again.
I helped the girl off the bed. She seemed dazed and unsteady on her feet. She fumbled her clothes on and teetered from the room without ever glancing back.
“Erase the tape,” I ordered, “and put some fucking clothes on.”
The guy snatched up the camera he had been filming with. His fingers were trembling. He stabbed some buttons and offered the camera up to me. “All done
,” he said. “Take a look for yourself.”
I looked. There was nothing left recorded. I grunted. The guy went to a pile of dirty unwashed clothes at the foot of the bed. He dressed quickly. “You really going to shoot a promo for me?”
I nodded. He shook his head like he couldn’t believe it and then lowered his voice to a dramatic whisper. “Are you really going to hurt me?”
“Count on it,” I said. I didn’t give the guy any time to think. He had a battered old tripod. I set the camera up, stabbed the ‘record’ button and dragged the guy over to stand beside me. I wrapped an arm around his shoulder and in an instant my expression transformed.
“Hi,” I smiled warmly towards the camera. “This is Rick Cassidy and I’m down town in L.A. with my good buddy Jimmy D.” I gave the fat bastard a warm slap on the shoulder. “We are on the set of Jimmy’s brand new film called ‘Fuckable MILFS’. Jimmy has scoured the west coast of America looking for the hottest ladies and filming them just for you,” my voice was warm and urbane and full of good will. I glanced at the guy. There was an uncertain smile on his face.
“You will want to watch this film,” I enthused. “There’s not a woman under forty and they’re all red hot and horny as hell. Take it from me,” I pointed at the camera and my smile broadened. “This will be a film you have got to see.”
I crossed to the camera and thumped the buttons to stop recording. The guy looked at me with a pained wrought expression on his face. “Hey, man. I don’t film MILFS. I film young stuff.”
I smiled grimly. “Not anymore,” I said. “Not ever again.”
I held the camera up for the guy so he could check the playback, and as he took it from me I punched him hard in the guts. The guy made an ‘ooomf!’ sound of pain as all the air was crushed from his lungs. The camera fell from his nerveless fingers and skittered across the ground. He bent over and clutched at his guts and as he did, I lifted my fist in an uppercut that caught him squarely under the jaw. It was one of my better punches – my legs were perfectly balanced and I drove up from my hips with all my weight and muscle behind the blow. The guy’s head snapped back and I heard something crunch and break. He began to topple backwards like a felled tree and I saw a spurt of bright red blood spill from his gaping mouth.
