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I had to be quick. He was falling, and I knew if he hit the ground he would never get up. I took a single stride and then drove my foot between his legs like I was punting from my own-end zone on fourth and long. My foot socked meatily into the guy’s crotch and the sound of it was like meat being butchered. The guy managed a single keening squeal before he hit the ground.
I was panting. I could feel the trembling rush of adrenalin sizzle and boil in my blood. I felt a wild and reckless elation – and an overwhelming sense of justice.
I took three long breaths, felt the sense of satisfaction seep into my bones, and then I crossed the room in careful measured steps where Connie and her daughter sat watching, their expressions pale and aghast.
I squatted on my haunches and held out my hand. “Hi, Roxy. My name is Rick Cassidy. I’m a porn actor – and I’m a friend of your mother’s.”
The girl held her hand out to me as if I was some ghostly apparition. Her grip was limp in the way that most young girls shake hands. I noticed she had the same long delicate fingers as her mother. I smiled into her eyes. “Your mom wanted me to talk to you about the porn industry. She tells me you have aspirations of being an actress. Is that right?”
Roxy nodded her head mutely, and then said softly, “I know you. I saw some of your films.”
Beneath the pretty face, the high cheekbones, the flawless smooth skin and the deep soulful eyes, I could see intelligence and resolve in the girl’s face. “What makes you want to film porn movies?”
Roxy found her voice at last, but it was wavering and tremulous like she was in the grips of some kind of mild shock. “That guy,” she pointed at the man I had left bleeding on the floor. “He… he told me I had the face and the figure to be a star.”
I glanced over my shoulder. The guy was writhing on the ground, his hands clutched between his legs, curled up into the fetal position. I turned back to Roxy.
“Can I tell you something?” I asked gently.
Roxy nodded. She was staring into my eyes intently.
“The porn industry doesn’t need you, honey. The porn industry doesn’t need another fresh-faced nineteen-year-old girl, because we’ve got so many of them,” I said. “Every day, all around the world, young girls like you get lured or drawn into this industry, and you know what?”
“What?” she asked softly.
“They all get told the same thing,” I smiled to take the edge off my words and make them seem less pointed. “Every girl gets told exactly what you got told – and it’s not true. That doesn’t mean you’re not pretty, and it doesn’t mean that you don’t have a great figure. But it does mean that you’ll never be a star, because there are too many other girls just as pretty as you and just as desperate.”
Roxy’s expression folded into a frown like maybe she was thinking about what I said and deep down knew that it was the truth. She glanced at her mother and then turned her eyes back to me. She swallowed nervously. “But I actually do like porn,” she said.
“Good!” I enthused. “Then watch it until your eyes bleed. Watch every movie you can get your hands on – just don’t put yourself into one. It’s not the lifestyle you want, and it’s not the kind of thing you want in your past because one day you’re going to meet a guy who is bright and handsome and charming – not as handsome as me –,” she smiled, “but when that day comes,” I smiled back, “you won’t want something like this haunting you because it never goes away.”
Roxy went back to frowning. Back to thinking.
“If you really do have a fascination for porn films, then you can still be involved in the industry, Roxy,” I said suddenly. “We need talented makeup artists. We need people with vision and flare and creativity behind the cameras that film the scenes – and we need production people who have a good eye for editing footage and putting a film together. Think about that,” I urged. “Think about a career behind the scenes if you really want to work around the world of porn.”
She sat there with a serious look on her face for long moments. “Is that all I should know?” she asked, back-tracking the conversation. “Is having yourself on film and having that footage of you in your past the worst of it?”
I shook my head. “No,” I said with sudden sad realization. “Roxy, the worst part about making porn films is that it desensitizes you, honey. You reach the point, sooner than you realize, when you forget how to tell the difference between lust and love. You lose intimacy. You lose yourself. You lose your soul,” I said softly. “Adult films are supposed to capture sexual moments, but in the process they hold your heart hostage so that one day you wake up and you realize you don’t know what love is, or you’ve forgotten how it feels and because of that, it leaves you empty.”
I glanced at Connie. She was crying. Her lips quivered and her eyes were dewy with tears. She sniffed and dabbed at her cheek.
She looked at me like she was seeing me for the first time. I felt her hand reach for mine and squeeze tightly. “Thank you,” she mouthed the words silently.
We stood up and I watched as Connie hugged her daughter in an emotional moment that I knew I’d probably never experience. They were both crying, soft weeping sobs of reconnection.
Epilogue.
I loved the silence of this place. I stood on the balcony of the villa, staring up at the dark moonless sky. The night was filled with a million stars and all around me, the rolling French countryside was quiet.
I carried my drink inside and set it on the kitchen table. I went into the living area. Connie had slipped off her shoes and was dozing in front of the fireplace. I leaned over the back of the chair and kissed her upside-down face gently on the cheek.
She woke with a start and glanced around to find me.
“You’re tired,” I said.
“I was just resting my eyes.”
“You were snoring.”
There was a spark in her eyes. “I don’t snore.”
“I remember the night in L.A. after we had dinner at that little restaurant and I brought you home drunk and undressed you. You snored that night.”
She folded her arms and there was a smile at the memory. “I only have your word for that,” she challenged.
Roxy drifted into the living room with a makeup box in her hand. She set it inside the front door and then looked at us with a shrug. “I have a bad memory,” she smiled. “I don’t want to forget it in the morning. It’s not going to make a good impression if I turn up on my first day of classes and I forgot to bring my makeup, right?”
I nodded. It had been six weeks since Connie and Roxy had followed me to Europe to live with me, and in that time we had settled into a routine that somehow seemed to work. “I will drop you off early,” I promised. “I need to be down at the lake in the morning anyhow¸” I said. “Just make sure you’re ready to leave on time, okay? I have a lot of actresses arriving on set tomorrow and I need to be back to start filming. If I’m late, they’ll get into the booze and I won’t get anything on film.”
Roxy nodded. She smiled at her mom and then wandered away towards her bedroom. Connie watched her disappear down the hallway.
“I think I am tired,” she said when we were alone. She yawned. There were several newspapers spread across her knees and a half-filled notepad on the armrest of the chair. She folded the papers carefully and then stood up.
“Deadline?” I asked.
She shrugged. “I still have two weeks before I need to submit,” she said casually. She was working as a freelance journalist now, still writing articles for ‘Infinity’ magazines but also writing for a couple of French publications and an online blog in Italy. She didn’t seem to miss L.A. life at all.
“Sleep well,” I said. She smiled, lifted herself on tiptoes and kissed me chastely on the lips. I watched her until she gently pushed her bedroom door closed behind her and then I went back to the kitchen and refilled my glass.
Outside the night air was cooling. I found the brightest star in the glittering sky and mu
ttered a silent wish.
This wasn’t love – I knew that. Connie, Roxy and I were living together and it was good, but what Connie and I had wasn’t love.
But it was a start…
