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“Sit down,” John Bellamy said. “I ain’t got time for your wise-ass comments.”
I sat. A waiter glided across to my side and I ordered a drink.
Bellamy stared over the table at me, studying me with dark shrewd eyes. “You look good,” he said at last.
I smiled. “You too,” I lied. “It’s been a long time.”
The man nodded sagely. “Almost nine years.”
I sat back in the chair and glanced around the room. The restaurant hadn’t changed, and neither had many of the faces. I recognized some of the other diners – shadowy dark men hunched over their tables in earnest, secretive conversations.
I felt Bellamy’s eyes on me.
“So, how you doin’ kid?” he asked.
I shrugged. “I’m getting by,” I said. “The film distribution deal is working out, and everything is fine back home.”
Bellamy grunted. He was one of the porn industry heavy-weights – a man who could make or break a newcomer’s career with a phone call. He was also my mentor. When I had decided to take the step from porn actor into the high-finance world of film producer, Bellamy had stood by me, discreetly in the shadows, and guided me through some stormy seas during those first few years.
I owed him.
I knew it.
So did Bellamy.
“You happy?”
I nodded. “Sure.”
Bellamy looked hard at me, like he was trying to read my eyes, and asked his next question with elaborate caution. “You makin’ a buck?”
I nodded. “A couple,” I said.
Bellamy smiled – a knowing grin of understanding as he nodded his head heavily. “You’re lucky,” he said, and his expression became bleak and grey. “It’s gettin’ harder every day in this fuckin’ business. Too many small fish,” his voice became a bitter growl of protest. “They’re screwin’ up all kinds of things.”
I frowned. “Small fish?”
Bellamy nodded. He was drinking neat whiskey. He drained his glass and then waved it in the air to attract a waiter’s attention for a re-fill. “Fuckin’ little production houses,” Bellamy went on with a sigh. “They’re cutting margins – producin’ all this fuckin’ reality shit.”
I sat forward, lowered my voice. “You hurting, John?”
The big man looked up into my eyes. He nodded, and his voice dropped to a pained whisper. “Yeah,” he admitted. “And I’m sick, Ricky.”
“Sick? What kind of sick?”
Bellamy made a face, and scratched at the side of his hooked Roman nose. “The bad kind,” he said, his voice a rusty croak. “The kind of sick I ain’t gonna ever get better from.”
I sat back in shock and for long moments we said nothing. The waiter came and poured more whiskey into Bellamy’s glass. The conversations around us rose and fell in whispered undulations.
“Shit.” I said at last.
Bellamy nodded. “Shit is right,” he sighed, and then suddenly seemed to rouse himself, climb out of the dark hole of despair he was descending into. His eyes caught a spark of their old cunning glitter and a hint of a smile tugged at the corner of his mouth. “But it ain’t all bad,” he said. He sat up straight, arched his back and pushed back his shoulders, like a peacock preening itself. “I got myself a new girl.”
“Really? I didn’t know you had ended things with the old one.”
“I haven’t!” Bellamy suddenly laughed, and the spontaneous unaffected sound was like a loud bull-roar in the oppressive silence. It seemed to shake the walls, and heads turned, stared, then turned away again. Bellamy dabbed at his eyes with a paper napkin, then mopped away an unhealthy sheen of perspiration that had spread across his brow.
“She’s nineteen,” Bellamy shook his head in wonder. “She did a scene in one of my films. Man, what that girl can do with her mouth is fuckin’ amazing!”
I smiled. “Congratulations,” I said, because I didn’t know what else to say. “Have you been seeing her long?”
Bellamy shrugged and then leered at me meaningfully. “Long enough to know every inch of her tight teeny body, but not long enough to remember her name.”
It was the sort of thing I expected from John. The porn industry was a superficial world: the relationships were temporary, the sex faked. It was a world where pretty young girls were the kind of accessories that every successful business man had – more impressive than a flashy car or an expensive suit. A pretty young thing on the arm of an old man was a sign of prowess and power… and those two ingredients were the cogs that drove the industry.
The waiter came to the edge of the table and stood silent and discreet until Bellamy acknowledged him.
“Can I take your orders?”
“Fuck off,” Bellamy said with a flash of charming smile. “We ain’t ready.”
The waiter turned a shade of grey and disappeared like a magician’s assistant in a vanishing act.
Bellamy propped his elbows on the edge of the table and leaned close, his manner becoming suddenly grave and serious. He frowned and thrust his face close as though trying to study my expression in the gloomy light of the restaurant.
“I’m sellin’, Ricky,” he said at last. “I’m sellin’ the whole organization – lock, stock and blonde, and I’m gettin’ out.”
I threw back my head with shock. “Out of the industry?”
Bellamy nodded. “And the fuckin’ country. I’m movin’ to Australia.”
“Fuck…” I said in soft voice of disbelief.
Bellamy nodded again. “It’s a young man’s game now. All this fuckin’ internet stuff,” he shook his head, full of sorrow and worn down by his sickness. “It’s time I got out and went somewhere sunny to die.” He paused for a meaningful breath. “I’m sellin’ to the Scarletti brothers… but I want you to do me a favor.”
I fell back in the chair, stunned, reeling. I shook my head. “John, I can’t believe you’re getting out of the game.”
“Believe it,” he said. “The deal is done. There is just a loose end to tie up.”
“Loose end?”
He nodded. “Like I said. I need a favor.”
I had a sudden sense of wary suspicion. “I’ll do what I can to help,” I said, and then added with ill-concealed anxiety, “if I can afford it…”
He smiled, and then his expression faded to a rueful grin. “It’s affordable.”
“But – ”
Bellamy held up his hand to stifle my protest. “Do I need to remind you that you owe me?” His mouth tightened.
“No, John. I know I owe you.”
Bellamy pretended not to hear. He went on doggedly. “You fuckin’ owe me for takin’ you under my wing,” he thrust a huge finger at me in accusation. “And you owe me for helpin’ you get established, and gettin’ a distribution deal, right?”
I nodded. “Right,” I said.
“Then you help me out – with the blonde.”
“The blonde?”
Bellamy nodded. “She wants to make it big in the industry. I told her you would use her in your next film.”
I looked incredulous. “The new girl?”
He nodded. “She’s one of them submissive types,” he said in an off-hand manner, his voice dropping confidentially. “She’ll suck and fuck whenever you want.”
“John… I don’t need another actress. And besides, you know I don’t work with new girls. I only work with professionals.”
He shrugged like he didn’t care. “She’s the favor. You fuck her, you film her, you put her on the cover of the DVD. It’s what you owe me, boy.”
I sighed. I glanced over my shoulder towards the exit, subconsciously looking for an escape.
Bellamy grunted, like he could read my mind. “How long are you in town for?”
I shrugged my shoulders. “A few more days.”
“Are you filming while you’re here?”
“Yeah,” I said. “No point wasting the location. I’ve got some girls booked for tomorrow and Friday.”
/> Bellamy looked pleased. “So that solves our problem,” he said matter-of-factly. “I’ll send this girl to you tomorrow. All you have to do is include her in one of your scenes.”
I nodded. “Yeah, sure.” I conceded unhappily. But Bellamy’s hand shot out across the table, his grip surprisingly strong, the subtle warning in his tone unmistakable, though veiled. “Just make sure you fuck her, Ricky,” he reminded me. “Not one of the hired cocks. I promised the girl that the one-and-only Rick Cassidy would do her. It’s important if she’s to get a name for herself. She’s got to fuck some real talent if she’s going to be taken seriously.”
I was still shaking my head. I felt the floor beneath me beginning to sway and teeter.
