Jase’s voice came closer. “A dye job. Fake eyelashes. Make-up. My artists can make you look like a completely different person. You can be anyone you want to be here, Cara.”
A new person.
A tiny thrill shot through me. Here, no one knew me or that my father had stabbed my mother sixteen times before shooting her point blank and putting the gun to his own temple. No one here had seen the viral image of me, covered in blood, being escorted out of the house by Jase and the police.
The damned picture snapped on someone’s phone and unable to be prevented by the police transformed me from a typical high school student to pariah practically overnight. Those who didn’t ridicule me pitied me, which was even worse.
Jase didn’t wait for me to reply. “The studio will pay for everything. New clothes. Manicure. Whatever you want.”
“Why do I need clothes?”
He was silent for several moments, long enough form to crack open the shower stall and glance at him. “Jase?”
His gaze met mine, and for once he didn’t seem to be looking at me as his friend, but as a potential employee, someone who’d actually star in one of his films. Finally, he spoke. “You’ll need clothes for the press junkets. Promotion is key, Cara. It’s all about how you portray yourself on and off-camera.”
I’d thought I would just show up, fuck, and go home. Never did I imagine I would have to meet reporters.
“You could be a celebrity in my world,” he continued. “We have to be ready.”
Was I making a mistake? I was totally unprepared for this even though I was determined to prove I was more than poor Cara Daniels from Vestavia Hills who’d lost her parents.
“Do you really think I can be successful?”
Jase’s gaze dropped. It wasn’t subtle, nor did it seem invasive. Even though my boobs remained hidden from his sight, tingles traced down my spine.
Jase lifted his gaze. “Mark was right. Our viewers will love you. You’re fresh. Wholesome. Innocent. But you carry darkness and viewers will sense it. That’s what will make everyone love you. They’ll either want to save you or fuck you. Either way, we make bank.”
“Is it just about the money? For you, I mean. Are you only agreeing to give me a shot because you think I’ll sell copies?”
“Don’t ask me, Cara.” He gripped the edge of the sink’s countertop and lowered his head. “Not unless you’re prepared for the truth.”
I was truly baffled now. “What truth?”
He turned his head and pinned me with an expression which scorched everything in its wake. “I can’t have you for myself, so this movie is the second best thing.”
I felt the skin of my eyelids stretch from the force of my astonishment. What in the hell? The low spray of water seemed like bricks hitting me.
I turned off the taps and returned to the tiny sliver of open door. “Jase?”
He’d turned away from me again, but I saw his profile in the reflection of the mirror. His jaw was taut, his eyes like cold flecks of emeralds.
“I figured you would take it the wrong way.”
I shivered in the rapidly cooling shower, either from the loss of warm water or from his words, I wasn’t sure. “What sort of way should I take it?”
He tilted his head almost, but not quite, toward me. “Sex is my obsession, Cara. It’s what drives me. It has for years. I kept that part of me hidden from you. When I say I want to see you in bed, it’s because I want to see what every woman is like in bed.”
“Oh.” My heart took a nosedive. “So I’m nothing special?”
“Shit. I knew it was going to be like this,” he said with a growl of frustration. “That’s not it at all. Sex is something completely different from caring about someone. Sex is a hobby for me. I don’t do it for affection. I don’t do it because I love someone. I do it because I like to fuck.”
At last, he looked up and met my confused gaze. The heat of his stare, combined with the risqué conversation did strange things to my insides. Strange, wonderful things. My wonderful, sexy best friend wanted to see what I was like in bed.
I was a virgin, but that didn’t mean my libido didn’t shout hallelujah. But he’d also just admitted his curiosity about all women.
I resisted unfamiliar desire and focused. “I don’t want you to watch. Mark said your assistants could oversee the production.”
Jase returned to his former position, hiding his face from me and gripping the sink’s edge. “Even if I gave up control of film editing and packaging, I’d have to attend the premiere. I couldn’t sit through it with my eyes closed. Hell, even if I did, hearing the noises you make…No. I’d never be able to keep my eyes away.”
A full-on flush covered my body. I felt the heat start in my cheeks and work its way down to my littlest toe. Sincerity rang in his tone, but I convinced myself he was only trying to scare me. “You’re lying. You’re trying to frighten me off.”
“Do you really want to do this?”
I shoved a hand through the dripping ends of my hair and nodded. “Yes.”
He turned to face me again. “Then I won’t stop you. If this is what you really want, how you see yourself making a living, then I’m the last person who’ll stop you. Do I want you to be a porn actress? Hell no. Am I going to stop you? No. Not if it’s really what you want. But I won’t lie to you. I’m not going to sugar coat the truth. I’ll see the tape. I will see you.”
I tightened my grip on the shower door as he approached. I wasn’t sure what he would do, but I was naked and the plated glass was the only thing hiding my body from him.
Jase came close enough to touch me if he wanted, but he merely stood there and looked at me. “You deserve to be happy, Cara. If this does the trick, I’ll fully support you.”
Chapter Six
Waking up in Jase’s apartment was a revelation. I’d slept the whole night through, not fearing someone would come in and touch me. A full night’s sleep felt remarkable.
Jase had left a note in the kitchen for me, along with a bowl of fresh fruit. I sat at the counter and devoured the pineapple and orange slices while I reviewed his instructions. I was due to meet him in two hours for the scheduled makeover. Part of me feared making drastic changes, but the other part of me reveled in his plans.
I could become a new person. A new me.
I showered again, paying extra special attention to shaving my pits and legs. For once, the blade didn’t hold a sense of temptation. With each swipe across my skin¸ I became bolder, more focused, more whole.
I’d been twelve the first time I cut. Jackie had stopped being my friend and the situation with Tom begun, and when the blade sliced my skin, the release overwhelmed me.
I continued cutting, but not often, maybe once or twice a year. It took something big to give me the urge. But after my parents’ deaths, I returned to my forbidden crutch, cutting more than I’d ever done before, succumbing almost daily.
I rinsed away the lather from my thighs and studied the tiny criss-cross of hatch marks across my skin. The scars were easy for me to discern, but I already knew of them. Would the camera notice? I doubted it. People saw what they wanted to see.
Choosing an outfit was harder than I’d thought it would be. I’d packed few changes of clothes and the only shoes I had were the ratty sneakers I’d worn the day before.
I settled on a thick, pink sweater and a pair of distressed jeans. Grungy, but it would appear I’d dressed like it on purpose. I ran a brush through my tangled hair and pulled it into a sloppy ponytail.
I didn’t waste time with make-up. One, because I had none with me. Two, a makeover was planned. Might as well start with a blank slate.
Jase had also left money and the number for a cab. I tucked the cash into my pocket after calling to schedule a pick-up, and left the apartment. Downstairs, I loitered in the common room located off the lobby and pretended to be engrossed in the day’s newspaper, but I mostly people-watched. An elderly couple drank coffee and talked quie
tly in one corner. Sharp dressed men and women rushed through the lobby, probably late for work.
A totally different life from what I was used to. In Vestavia, my parents worked from paycheck to paycheck. My father’s odd carpenter jobs were few and far in between. Mom’s position as a dental hygienist paid the bills, but we had little left over.
Here, in Jase’s building, people drove expensive cars, dressed in the latest fashions, and seemed to have a purpose in life. Me? I was an eighteen-year-old runaway set on a course to become a porn actress. The irony of it would be amusing if the existence didn’t belong to me.
My attention fell on a tiny headline about a local church’s bake sale. I cringed. What would the parishioners at my parents’ tiny church think about my chosen career path? I wasn’t religious, too much bad had happened for me to ever believe in a benevolent God, but sin held dark connotations for me. Surely having sex for money made me a bad person.
I shook my head. No. I wouldn’t think it. The same people who’d crowded the front row of our church had been the first to shy away from me, a scared then-seventeen-year-old girl who’d just lost her parents. If their actions were ruled by religion, I wanted no part of it.
Jase had been the only person to show me steady friendship. His parents had tried, I’d hand them that, but I’d sensed the fear in them, the silent judgment. Their faith made them want to help me while apprehension simultaneously made them push me away.
Jackie had pretended to be sympathetic, posting well wishes and lovely memes for me on social media, while going behind my back and gossiping about my family with her new best friends. She’d thought I wouldn’t catch on, but there were too many private details, things I’d told her in the past, for me to ignore the truth.
I should hate her, and maybe I did, but there’d been no room in my heart for revenge. I’d let it go, just like I had so many times in the past, and subtly distanced myself from her.
Five minutes before the cab arrived, I stood outside on the sidewalk, shifting my weight from foot to foot and hoping the rain would hold off until I reached my destination.
The humidity made my flat hair a frizzy mess, and I smoothed a hand over my ponytail over and over again. Anxiety welled, but I stood with my feet planted on the concrete.
Fuck it. Playing safe exhausted me. I needed money, fast, and this seemed the easiest way to do it.
A tiny part of my subconscious suspected I wanted to do it for Jase, wanted to see how far I could push until he broke.
The cab arrived early. I slid inside, crinkling my nose at the stale onions and body odor, and gave the address to the driver. The man seemed content to drive without making small talk.
I caught his eye a few times in the rear-view, but he looked away. Zero interest. Didn’t bode well for my burgeoning sex goddess career.
Jase hadn’t told me where to go once I arrived, so I took out my phone to text him. As I powered it on – I left it turned off for long periods to avoid Tom – I noticed a text from an unfamiliar number. I opened the message, and the short and sweet text brought a smile to my face.
Can’t wait to make you a star. Mark.
Perhaps I should consider it creepy he’d found my number, but he seemed too nice to be troublesome. I’d met a porn star for all of ten minutes, and I deeded him trustworthy? Yeah, not the normal quid pro quo. I didn’t respond to the text, figuring I’d see him soon enough.
Nerves attacked me after the taxi driver dropped me off in front of Jase’s building. I stared at the door for several minutes, rooted to the spot, and wondered if I’d really do it.
I had choices. Not many, but there were other options. Fast food. Factory work. None of it appealed to me, but could I say the same about porn?
This time, the receptionist directed me to the second floor. Unlike the crowded space I’d journeyed to yesterday, warm earth tones decorated this floor. Yellows, browns, oranges. The colors clashed with my skin tone, made me look sallow in the decorative mirrors scattered along the walls.
I shuffled my way to a thin, elegant woman seated at a tiny wooden desk and stated my name. She glanced up, bored, but the boredom disappeared and curiosity made her angular features even more pronounced.
“So you’re Diamond?” Her voice didn’t match her exterior. The tone was vibrant and smoky, like a 1940’s era movie star.
“I am,” I confirmed with a steady nod.
She narrowed her eyes and hummed. “Interesting. Come this way please.”
I didn’t know whether to be insulted or pleased. I held no illusions of bombshell status, but I wasn’t a total dog either. Perhaps my whipped expression gave me away. I’d once been quick to laugh, but the ability disappeared months ago.
“Sit here.” The lady pointed at a chrome and leather chair, like one a hairstylist would use.
I did as she asked. Several bright bulbs illuminated the mirror’s frame, reflecting my sunken cheeks and dull eyes.
I’d always hated looking at myself and seeing every pore and flaw. Seeing my reflection next to a woman with graceful age and beauty drove home my plainness. I couldn’t tell her age, but I guessed she was in her sixties, with a well-preserved look about her.
“My name is Honey, and it’ll be my pleasure to transform you into a star.”
I latched onto the computable part of her statement. “Is Honey your real name?”
She rifled her fingers through my hair. “Real enough.”
Point taken. I watched her toy with the limp, still somewhat damp, strands of my hair. “So what are we going to do?”
She tilted her head to one side and pursed her lips. Whispers of sound came from her, but they were more murmurs than actual conversation. “We should change your hair.”
I nodded. Jase had convinced me to change my looks. Hair would be the easiest transformation. “Let’s do it.”
Honey stepped in front of me and stared a long time. I fidgeted in the chair, unused to such a hard perusal. She pulled the front pieces of my hair, closest to my face, in a straight line beside my cheeks and hummed more. “Blonde doesn’t suit you.”
I would’ve nodded, but she held my hair. “What color then?”
She tucked the hair behind my ears and shrugged. “We can try a deep brown, but I’m afraid it would wash you out. Your skin is so pale.”
An unexpected idea popped into my head. “Red.”
She arched a slim, perfect eyebrow. “What shade of red? Strawberry?”
“Serious, full-on red. Like Julia-Roberts-in-Pretty Woman-red.”
“Hmm.” Honey touched my chin and tilted my face to the side. “It could work. It would definitely add to your appeal. There aren’t many ginger actresses.”
I hadn’t imagined a drastic change, but once I’d suggested it, the idea of being a redhead sold me. Hopefully the bold color would give me courage. “Let’s do it.”
The first dye job wasn’t vivid enough. Honey had warned me it might take two applications to get the color to stick, so the sight of violent streaks of red scattered in my normal color didn’t shock me when she rinsed away the dye.
Minutes later, I sat in a chair for take two with a magazine in my lap while Honey prepared her make-up kit.
“How much longer?” I asked as I flipped a page.
Honey lugged a heavy-looking box onto the counter. “About fifteen minutes. I need to fetch my eyelash threading kit. Will you be okay until I return?”
I shrugged. People had come and gone throughout the morning, but we had the make-up room to ourselves. She left with a promise to hurry back.
As soon as she disappeared, I glanced at the mirror, but I couldn’t see much beneath the thick plastic cap Honey had wrapped around my head. My hair seemed darker though.
Left alone, I was tempted to peek but settled back into my chair and continued to read an article on gardening. With my thoughts wrapped up in petunias and begonias, I didn’t realize someone had joined me until they spoke.
“Quite an attractiv
e look for you.”
The teasing words startled me, and I fumbled to keep hold of the magazine in my lap. “Mark!”
The actor graced me with a bright smile. His whiter-than-white teeth and perfect tan had me wondering how many times he’d had to sit in the make-up room.
In the bright lights, he appeared younger than I’d first thought. No more than his late twenties or so. He settled in the chair beside me and set about combing his hair.
“Are you filming today?” I asked.
He nodded. “Just a few promotional pieces for a film I did this summer. We film the bulk of the non-sexual scenes here. Makes it easier.”
I wasn’t familiar with the industry or laws, but it still boggled my mind Jase had created a company in our home state. “So we will film parts of the movie here?”
“The majority actually.” Mark grabbed a can of hair spray and used a few, short blasts to the front of his hair. So that was how he accomplished it. “Contrary to popular belief, porn can have a plot. The sex is just a bonus.”
I was ravenously curious about how he’d gotten his start in the business. “So how long have you…umm…been an actor?”
One corner of his mouth kicked up a notch. “I wasn’t much older than you. Almost nineteen when I played a minor character. I received my first starring role when I was twenty-one. I was blessed to be born with the equipment needed to support me.”
I gulped, sure my cheeks turned as red as the dye washed out of my hair earlier. “So you’re a large guy?”
I’d Googled him, but it was hard to judge dimensions from a picture.
“Yeah, I guess. More than most.” He replaced the cap on the hair spray and set it aside.
“Really?”
He shot me a quizzical look. “Six inches soft. Ten hard.”
Holy shit. Ten inches couldn’t fit inside me. Could they? My belly roiled with anxiety, and my gaze zeroed in on a pair of blades lying on the counter. The urge to cut built within me.
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