No.
Don’t look at me like that.
You know who Cheryl is talking about.
But I don’t believe it.
“Who’s sleeping in your bed right now, Ethan?” Cheryl asks me. I don’t answer. “Who have you been spending more and more time with and who is closer to you now than even I am?”
“Cheryl,” I start and get up. “You’re getting irrational.”
Cheryl doesn’t have time to answer. Because that’s when I hear a cute little voice behind me.
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“Hi,” is all I hear and I turn around to see Brittney wiping the sleep from her eyes. She’s wearing one of my button down shirts and it comes below her waist and makes her look fucking innocent and sexy at the same time.
I stare at her and can’t stop, but I hear Cheryl walking to the door.
“Think about what I said, Ethan,” she tells me and doesn't wait for me to turn around. “And watch your back. I’d love to be wrong.”
Fucking Cheryl.
She doesn't even say hello to Brit. She just treats her like a piece of furniture.
“Brittney,” I say to her as I take a step closer.
“What was Cheryl doing here?” Brittney asks me, her eyes big. “And who does she think is trying to steal your I.E.?”
I stop and take a deep breath. Brittney waits for a second and then her face gets serious.
“Tell me, Ethan,” she says, coming close to me and putting her hands on my robe. “I need to know.”
This is way too much fucking drama for this early in the morning. I swear to fucking God. I’m about ready to tell her to fuck off.
But then I look into her face. She’s looking up at me, her eyes wide, open, trusting.
Is Cheryl right?
Is she playing me?
Only one fucking way to find out.
I sigh, and take a sip of my coffee, and start.
“I started this company shortly after I quit working in marketing,” I say, and Brittney looks at me as her gaze softens. “I didn’t work for someone else anymore, and I don't know how, but I got into representing models at first.”
She nods to me. “I started porn through a modeling contract,” she tells me.
I nod back. “Same here. Before you knew it, I was selling pictures for models that agreed to magazines and websites, getting paid royalties. It seemed like easy money, and I was good at getting the girls paid more than they would have modeling for Baby Gap or whatever the fuck was hiring.”
Brittney is silent, waiting for me to continue.
“It was only a few steps away from eventually moving into shorter movies and videos, and I began to dabble in creating my own content,” I tell her, thinking back to those days long gone by.
It’s a fucking cliché that I’m some idiot bad boy if that’s what you’re still thinking. Sure, I say ‘fuck’ every other sentence. Maybe I talk about my foot-long cock too much. And yes, I produce pornography. But I’m a fucking hard worker. Everything that I have, everything that I own, I built on my own. No one fucking handed this to me. I built this. All of it.
But I had help.