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“I’m hoping you finally decided to grace us with your presence because you’re ready to take your work to the next level? I’m sure I don’t have to tell you, but amateurs are all the rage now. Big-name performers don’t bring in the same numbers they used to. Variety over quality. It’s not good for business. Our shares are down over the last two quarters. The only way we can protect our margins is by going further. Getting creative. Do you consider yourself a man of great ambition?”
“No, sir. I can’t say that I do.”
“Well, you should. Porn is power. Never forget that. We may not get the respect of other industries, but we shape culture and technology in ways they can only dream about. You’ve made a name for yourself. Got a nice, young following. Fresh. That’s what I like to see. How many subscribers do you have on your videos?”
“Uh, I’m not sure.” Josh didn’t keep tabs. Clara had mentioned a number the other day. “About a million?”
Pruitt smiled. “Potential lifetime customers, even if most of them are women. Many of my colleagues don’t agree with me about investing in male talent. Not unless you’re willing to do male-male?” He raised an inquisitive eyebrow.
Josh politely shook his head. He had tried it exactly once, because you didn’t have as much sex as he did and not get a little curious, but he found he strongly preferred women.
“Pity. I’ve gotten a lot of requests for that from both fans and performers. Still. You’re what, almost thirty? You’ve got at least three, maybe even five good years in you if you take care of yourself. Lay off the red meat. Invest in some under-eye cream.”
Josh brought his hand up to feel for bags beneath his eyes. The skin felt relatively tight. Maybe he should ask to borrow some of the fancy lotions his roommate left in the bathroom.
Pruitt chuckled. “Oh, don’t worry. Only the girls can’t age. One of those harsh truths of the business. Older men want to see themselves on screen, but we don’t want to see our wives.”
The CEO turned around a photogra
ph on his desk so that Josh could see a snapshot of a middle-aged brunette with her arms wrapped around two teenage boys. The woman in the photo looked sweet, pretty if a little tired.
“People are quick to demonize porn, but how many marriages have we saved? Porn keeps men from cheating when their wives no longer do the trick. It’s our duty to provide ever-evolving fodder for the sexual imagination. To take audiences places they’ll never go in real life.”
Josh dug his fingernails into his palms. He couldn’t believe this man could talk about his wife and the mother of his children this way, let alone to a complete stranger. When he answered he couldn’t quite keep the edge out of his tone. “I’m not so sure I’m ready to let the most extreme audiences dictate the direction of my career.”
The older man straightened his tie and sat even higher in his thronelike chair. “I’m going to level with you, Josh. Man to man. You got lucky. You rode the wave of your girlfriend’s hot ass to a modicum of notoriety, but there is no such thing as happily ever after in this industry. Without Naomi Grant, you’re gonna fade fast.”
Josh slammed his back molars together with enough force to make his jaw ache.
Pruitt picked up a glass paperweight from his desk and juggled it. “I’ll tell you what. I’ll start you slow if you want. Real gentle. I’ll even let you work with other studios as long as you give my hardcore division fifty titles a year and exclusive appearance rights.”
It was a better offer than Bennie had ever brought him, almost generous. Josh’s throat clenched. He hated himself a little for the next words out of his mouth. “How much?”
Pruitt brought his hand up to cover his mouth for a moment before lowering it. “What did you make last year?”
Through the haze of his simmering rage, Josh took last year’s income and doubled it before writing it on a piece of paper from a pad in front of him. He slid it across the desk to Pruitt.
The executive picked it up and read it, giving a little laugh. “I’ll start you at twice that amount.”
Josh tried to wrap his head around that kind of money. A paycheck like that would validate his career.
“Welcome to the big leagues.” The most powerful man in porn sat back and folded his hands across his chest. Pruitt was convinced he’d gotten his way, and maybe he would have if Josh hadn’t thought of Clara’s face at that exact moment.
If he hadn’t pulled up her profile in the driver’s seat of his car at sunset after a whole day of facing her fears. The shadows of a dying sun across her face made her look like a 1940s movie star. Biting her lip. Determined to do what she thought she must. No matter how much it scared her. He wished his brain hadn’t replayed the catch in her voice when she’d protested the mistreatment of people she’d never met by the man sitting across from him. He could no longer claim ignorance. If he took this money, Clara would always know he’d done it because he was weak.
“I’m sorry.” He placed the paper back on the desk. “I can’t accept.” Once his contract expired he could find work with other, smaller studios. Maybe he’d never be rich, but at least he could go to sleep at night without worrying about his work putting money in the pockets of men like this guy. He could look Clara in the eye over breakfast tomorrow. He’d never be good enough for a woman like her, but at least he wouldn’t fail this basic moral test.
“Are you sure about that? I feel I’ve been very generous, Josh.” Pruitt’s eyes had gone hard and cold.
Josh ran his hands down his itchy dress pants. He wanted desperately to get out of this room, this building. “I appreciate your time, but I think I’ll try my hand at some other ventures when my contract ends.”
Pruitt sat up straighter in his chair. “I’m not sure that would be a wise choice, son.”
“What are you implying?” Josh had a sneaking suspicion he knew.
“If you choose to walk away from this company and our very generous offer, you might find it difficult to find other people in this business who are prepared to work with you. Do I make myself clear?”
“Yes, thanks. Think I’ve managed to crack your code.” Josh stood up, letting his height send a final message.
