Double Take: A Leading Man Romance Read Free Page A

successful because he sees everything. He sees every flicker in everyone’s eyes. The placement of every prop. He sees nerves and victories and frustration, and he levies them, or smoothes them over. But what he can’t see now is my motivation. “Hey, listen, I’m sorry if I freaked you out, kid. I didn’t mean to be inappropriate.”
    I want to scream. No! That’s not why I’m shaking! Just take me. Just throw me down and take me . Instead, I manage, “No, it wasn’t… anything. I’m cold. Sorry. It’s like… thirteen degrees in here or something…”
    Rob seems to accept the answer, and he bends to pick up my notepad and pen, handing them back to me. Our fingers brush as I take them. “Don’t worry about it.” He extends an arm towards the door as if to say after you , and I start out, digging my tail between my legs. I pass him, and he adds, “If you’re going for a coffee run, I’d love a double shot.”
     

Chapter Four: Brett
    It’s in my contract. I’m not allowed to film another porn scene until the indie film is over. That doesn’t sit well with Lori anymore. She’s been on the phone all day fielding questions from directors, and now she’s over it. I’m across from her in her office, and her nostrils are flared.
    “Kinked Up is going to go under because of your attempt at being Brad Pitt.”
    I’m relaxed in my chair and I sink lower, my fingers lacing, hands resting on my stomach. “Brad Pitt would fucking kill to be me.”
    If her look could kill me, I’d be struck down in a second. “Insert whoever you want in the analogy, Brett. This isn’t a joke. This is my livelihood. I pay my rent and feed my dogs with the booking fees you bring in.” She’s worried about losing me. I get it. I’m the guy women get off to. Female friendly , they call me, even when I’m rough enough to leave bruised thighs.
    “You’ve got me for three more years.” I mention this, hoping she’ll get off the topic for a little while. I doubt it. Lori already knows that I’m doing everything in my power to break my contract without incurring one hell of a lawsuit for the breach. “I’m allowed a vacation every now and then. Rob’s got this, alright? I’ll be marketable to new audience. Or something.”
    The truth is, I don’t care. Maybe that’s irresponsible of me to say, but I’m not doing this for my marketability. I’m doing this to escape. I’m doing this because I woke up one morning and realized that I was thirty-four years old and the object of fantasy, not the object of someone’s affection.
    And all the women who’d want to fuck me weren’t exactly the kind of women I’d want to have children with in the first place.
    I’m getting impatient now, and the sigh I heave makes it obvious. Lori sets her jaw at the noise. “Are you a five-year-old now?”
    “No,” I say as I rise. “I’m late.”
    Lori looks floored as she taps her phone, the clock lighting up over the wallpaper of a pug in a tutu. “You’ve got half an hour to get there.”
    “Yeah, well.” I’m already halfway out the door, and I close it behind me as I finish. “If I’m not early…”
    I arrive at the house with ten minutes to spare. I have some leftover tuna and squash in a Tupperware which I carry with me to the makeup tent. I’m settling into a chair, a hair assistant buzzing around me, when I see the girl in the glasses -- Kylie -- scuttle after Rob.
    She’s a totally different girl than I saw the other day, the one who bluntly pointed out my liaison and cattle-prodded me to set. I know the look she has; she’s got it bad. I watch her as I stab a piece of tuna with a plastic fork, but I just push it around the Tupperware. I’m intrigued, amused, and I can’t look away.
    Rob is oblivious to it all, but he’s pretty much oblivious to everything around him except the mirror. He’s the stereotype of every indie film director: he’s got his head up his own ass, and thinks he’s making the next Ben