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Bennie smoked unfiltered cigarettes and spat on the sidewalk, but he knew everyone who mattered and never took a vacation, which made Josh’s life significantly easier.
“How’s it going, Ben?”
The portly man raised his eyes to take in Josh sitting across from him and grinned. “How do you fucking do, Darling?”
Josh pointed to a discarded plate of soggy fries and a sad sliver of bun. “I see you’ve started without me.”
“Ah, I’m sorry. You know me, always starving.” Bennie swiveled the plate in offering so the remaining fries faced Josh.
Ugh. He squirmed and shoved the plate away blindly.
“Oh fuck.” Bennie threw a napkin over the plate. “I forgot about your ketchup thing again. Forgive me.”
“It’s fine,” Josh said, willing his stomach to settle.
“Is it because it looks like blood?” Bennie waved his hand to bring over their server.
People always asked that. Josh shook his head, not trusting himself to open his mouth at the moment.
A sunshiny waitress approached the table in no particular hurry. She looked down her nose at Bennie but brightened considerably when her eyes found Josh. “What can I do for you two?”
Josh’s ears perked up at the attention. He couldn’t help it. He specialized in waitresses. They worked similar hours to him and always brought home free food. Naomi gave him flak for his indiscrimination when it came to women, but he didn’t mind. He could always find something to like. Hell, even Clara, who had Don’t even think about it stamped across her forehead, got his motor running.
“Do ya wanna hear the specials?” Fried onions sizzled on the grill behind her.
“He’ll have the burger. Medium. Fries. Extra crispy,” Bennie said, eyes back on his phone.
She scribbled the order on her pad and pouted at the stolen opportunity to linger.
“Extra pickles,” Josh added, giving her his smile at eighty watts. The way she chewed on her pen as she walked away gave him the sneaking suspicion that unleashing the full force of his grin would be writing checks he wasn’t prepared to cash.
Putting his palm over Bennie’s phone, he tipped his head toward the waitress stand. “Hey, you don’t remember by any chance if . . .”
“Yeah, you fucked her the last time we were here.”
Josh frowned. He didn’t remember the sex, the hallmark of a lackluster performance. He tried to recall the last time he’d had sex with only one girl without cameras. Sometime last year, when he and Naomi could hardly stand each other, they’d opened their relationship to external partners beyond work. At first, he’d enjoyed feasting at L.A.’s buffet of babes, but like anything else too readily available, even pussy got boring.
Bennie shuffled the stack of papers in front of him, reminding Josh of the purpose of their meeting.
“So?” Josh leaned in and tapped the table with both palms. “What have you got for me?”
Bennie handed over the documents.
Two years ago, a few days into shooting his first adult film, Josh had “taken a meeting” with a man from Black Hat Studios. The smooth-as-glass executive had plied him with Johnnie Walker Blue and extended an exclusive contract within thirty minutes of meeting him. Josh, still flush from the fact that someone, anyone, wanted to pay him to fuck, had quickly signed on the dotted line.
The contract meant three years of steady paychecks. It also meant he couldn’t work independently or for any other studios, sell his own merchandise, or make any public appearances without Black Hat Studios’ explicit approval.
That one night had cost Josh thousands in missed royalties alone. He’d asked Bennie last week to meet with the studio on his behalf, try to grease the wheels a little, and see if maybe the higher-ups would renegotiate a year early.
Josh raked a hand through his hair. “A five-thousand-dollar bonus?” He knew the kind of numbers he brought in through merch and appearances alone. “Is this a joke?”
“I know we wanted more, but I had to fight dirty for that much.” Bennie reached across the t
able to pick up the papers in a white-knuckled grip.
“But why? I’m the closest thing they’ve got to a household name . . . and they come back with this?”
Before the older man could answer, the waitress returned with Josh’s burger, bending from the waist to put down the plate. When Josh didn’t spare her an extra glance beyond a cursory “Thank you,” she huffed and stomped away.
