Jack
“Tilt your ass outand grip the pole. More. Keep going. Put a little more into it. I know you have it in you, man. That’s it.”
Click-pop, Click-pop.
I press down harder because I’m finally getting what I’ve been trying to coax out of him for the past two hours. The force of my finger enlists the clicks to run in fast succession as the shutter on my camera collects what I require. Perfection.
“Marcus,finally, man.”
“Hey, boss, cut me some slack here. This isn’t my usual rodeo.” I just start laughing quietly and shaking my head, because he’s right. As the top NFL draft pick this season, he’s barely wet behind the ears when it comes to anything that isn’t on the football field or in the training room.
“If you keep playing the way you have been, then you’ll beveryused to rodeos like this in no time. But yeah”—I look down at my camera, which needs a new battery and some lens adjustments—“let's take a few minutes.”
“Marcus, darling, that was incredible. You’re even more of a vision here than on the field,” the very ostentatious rep from one of the big five sports brands yells, as he plows farther onto my set. I can never keep track of what rep belongs to which brand when we’re doing these sessions. Most of these athletes are my friends at this point. Kissing ass is no longer part of the job description for me. My work speaks for itself, and they pay a pretty price for my time, in some instances more than what they’re paying the athletes for a sponsorship.
“Bridgette, get the fans set up and the rest of the scene prepped for our next group. I’ll be back in 30.”
“It’s Katie, sir. My name.”
I stop and turn back to look at her. “And?”
“And I’ve been working with you for the past two weeks. You should know my name by now. My name is Katie.” She shifts closer. “We had drinks last week.”
I don’t shift my gaze, still giving her a blank stare that asks why I should care.
“We had sex, like, two nights ago. Why are you looking at me like you’re not remembering any of it? Or me?” She’s clearly getting frustrated. I remember, and it wasn’t great. Lots of asking me,“Do you like that?”and most of the time, I didn’t. I almost fell asleep when she was giving me head. Very mediocre. And incredibly predictable. I can’t remember the last person that I’ve slept with that enticed me for a second round, never mind kept me interested enough to bother remembering their name.
“Maybe you should think aboutwhyI don’t remember your name.” I walk away and yell over my shoulder, “Set needs to be ready in 27 minutes now. Everybody better be ready when I get back.”
I can hear her huff and call me an asshole. “I quit, you dickhead,” she yells back at me.
Waving over my head, I pull out my phone, yelling back, “Get your ass off my set by the time I’m back, then.”
I send a text to my agent.
Jack:Get me a new assistant for today’s shoot. They need to be on set in twenty minutes, ready to work. I have three more athletes coming in that need to be coddled, so I will NOT be holding any additional hands.
Lucifer:On it. Professional advice…stop fucking them.
Jack:I don’t need your advice. You have 17 mins now.
Lucifer:Done. This shoot wraps tomorrow, then you’re out to Colorado the day after that. Try to keep it in your pants.
Jack:Where am I staying?
Lucifer:They’re handling accommodations.
Jack:Really? Why? I better not end up at some shitty B&B.
Lucifer:Their marketing guy was annoying, so I filled the contract with dumb asks.
Lucifer:Oh! And no assistant for the Colorado job. It’s just you and the clients. You’re there for a while, so please, DO NOT FUCK THE CLIENT.
Jack:You say that as if I can’t help myself.
Lucifer:If the title fits.
Jack:Stop slut-shaming me.