Uh, what?
“Pardon?” I ask politely.
“Logan, you are the obvious frontrunner to fill...his...shoes for Sinfully Vida.” I notice how she doesn’t say the other guy’s name, like he’s Voldemort or Rumpelstiltskin or something. “You’re hot, you’re insanely popular, and you’ve got the whole pro-women thing going on.”
“So you want me to film a scene for Lelie?”
She leans forward. “More than a scene. I want you. We can partner with O’Toole Films of course, find a mutually profitable agreement, but I want you long-term. And I want it to be something big, something no one else is doing right now, something that engages a lot of the subscribing viewers we lost last year.”
I like big and new and different, I like engaging, but I don’t know about long-term. The last long-term thing I did ended with me crying naked in the shower while my ex-girlfriend fucked an Italian half a world away.
On the other hand, didn’t I just promise myself this morning that I won’t let Raven dictate any more of my life? That it’s time for Logan O’Toole to start kicking asses and taking names?
“What did you have in mind?” I ask.
Vida sighs, turning her chair to stare out of the office window. Outside, the sky glows purple above the city, and lights sprawl for miles and miles. I suddenly feel lonely again, although I can’t pinpoint exactly why—whether it’s the city so massive and crowded and self-absorbed, or the sight of Vida Gines, Her Royal Majesty of Porn, looking so lonely herself.
Is this going to be me in fifteen years? Alone? With only my business for companionship?
“I’m not sure,” she admits, and I can tell the admission pains her. “Porn is changing. And I’m used to adapting to how people watch it, how they pay, and how they steal, but adapting to these bigger things…”
She drifts off, her eyes pinned to the cityscape outside.
“We need something new,” she finally says, and she turns back to me. “Something fresh. I don’t know what that it is, and that’s why I need you. You’re young, you’re sexy, and most importantly, both men and women connect to your scenes. They don’t just skip to the fucking and jerk off, they watch the whole thing, and then they come back and watch it again. They have favorites. Your subscription rates are through the roof and you’re a social media darling. Logan, Lelie needs you if it’s going to become more than art-house porn. I need you.”
I think for a minute. Lelie has vision. Partnering with them would put me closer to my goal of creating unique and artistically driven films. And it sounds like Vida is basically giving me carte blanche to do whatever I want, so long as it bolsters Sinfully Vida’s female-friendly reputation and ultimately makes money. There’s no reason to say no, except…
“Vida, I’d love to work with Lelie.”
She smiles.
“But I have no idea what to do.”
She waves a hand, those nails like streaks of pink light through the air. “You don’t need to know now. Just promise me you’ll think about it. And when you’re ready,” she reaches for her smartphone and taps at the screen a few times, “contact Marieke de Vries. She’s the head of Lelie, and she will get you whatever you need.”
My phone lights up with Vida’s text.
“Thanks, Vida.”
“I’m looking forward to it,” she says. “Now get upstairs and drink my liquor.”
* * *
In that way that certain parties will, the mood has shifted and only half of the people here know it. When I make it upstairs, the unknowing half still laughs and drinks and dances, but the crowd in the common area of the house has noticeably thinned. I see the cluster of people in the upstairs hallway—crowding around the orgy that’s undoubtedly happening in one of Vida’s many bedrooms—I take in the unmistakable smell of pot and sex, and I know it’s time for me to go home.
And that’s okay, because all I want to do is think about Vida’s offer. I’m excited about it, I’m nervous about it, I’m obsessed with it already, and so there’s no room for an impersonal and drug-fueled orgy in my mind.
But then I hear her voice.
Not Vida’s voice. Not Devi’s voice.
Hers. My own personal Voldemort.