I was the last person this kid wanted to show him the ropes.
I was no role model. Not for children. Not for teenagers. Not even for grown-ass men.
“I don’t know what to tell you, Cory.” Despite my words, he remained steadfast in his look of determination. “I don’t really have time to take you under my wing, and I should be honest with you. I dropped out of college.”
“I know.” Cory shrugged. I could tell he was getting disinterested with my excuses.
“You checked up on me?”
“Of course. I needed to make a case with my instructor, so I did my research.” He sat back, a smug smile spreading across his face. “I know everything about you.”
I snorted. “I highly doubt that.”
“Benson Lockwood.”
He knew my real name.
“Born April 24, Toronto. Son of Anne and Greg Lockwood. Lived with Ellie and Hirsh Levin for the latter part of your childhood and teenage years. Max Levin, former VP, is your best friend. You graduated high school and spent a semester in the film studies program at Shaw College, but dropped out to pursue your career in porn. You have filmed approximately three hundred and eleven films, thirty-five of them you’ve been the male lead. You’ve been nominated for four AVN awards, three Adult Entertainment Life awards, and named director of the year by SexLife magazine. You dated former porn star Cora Clayburn on and off for three years, but were simultaneously seen with various other women during your time together. You—”
I held up my hand. “Thank you, Barbara Walters.” I tapped my pen on the desk. All of this stuff was public knowledge. But I had to admit that it was reassuring to know that the Internet only housed details of my surface life. There was no reason for anyone to know why Hirsh and Ellie had taken me into their home in the first place.
Cory sat forward, placing his hands on his knees. “Please, Mr. Lockwood?”
I let out a heavy breath, tossing my pen on the desk and sitting back, my legs falling open to the sides of the chair. “You got approval from your instructor?”
He nodded. “And she’s gotten approval from the dean.” His tiny frown now pulling up with hope. “She wants to meet with you, though. Tomorrow at noon.”
This was getting way too complicated.
“Why here? Why porn? If you’re in school, you have every opportunity open to you.”
“I need to do something different. I need something that will make me stand out from the crowd.” His eyes lowered to my desk. “I never do. I usually just fade into the background and I promised myself that once I got to college things would be different. If I do this, then maybe…” His words trailed off, but he didn’t have to continue for me to know what was missing.
Girls. He needed help with girls.
I scrubbed my hand over my face, the two-day stubble scratching at my palm. “Interning at a porn production company isn’t going to get you laid.”
Cory quirked up one eyebrow, giving me a great are-you-kidding-me look. I couldn’t help but laugh.
“Fine. It might get you laid, but I won’t promise anything.”
“So then it’s a yes?” The excitement and hope filling up the kid’s eyes pulled at my heartstrings.
But he’d come at the worst possible time.
“All I’m asking is that you think about it.” He was trying to sweet-talk me with the no-pressure approach. He was trying to be blasé about it, but I could see the way his jaw clenched with every word he spoke.
Christ. I was going to cave. I just knew it. “I’ll meet with your instructor, and we can go from there.”
If there was ever a smile that could be used to light up a city, it would be Cory’s at this moment. And when he left my office, he did so with a lot more swagger than when he’d walked in.
After an extra-long day, I packed up my stuff and left the office, needing a six-pack of beer all to myself. Luckily, Max’s fridge was always fully stocked.
I made my way to the house he shared with Everly. I had been summoned to their love den, although I wasn’t sure why. I walked in without knocking, calling out for my best friend. “Maxy!” I made a beeline to the fridge and grabbed a beer.
“We’re up here.” I heard Everly’s soft voice from the second floor.
I took the staircase two steps at a time, noticing that the walls had been painted a subtle beige and the wood flooring had been restained, but when I breached the doorway of the spare bedroom, I stopped dead.