Chapter 11
Corey
W hat the fuck was I thinking, “go slow?” Nothing in my life has followed the protocol of “go slow”—not my lifestyle, the industry I work in, or even the cars I drive—including an Aston Martin, because yes, I’m a Bond fan. Sue me. So why did I suddenly think “going slow” with Bex was feasible?
Shortly after her earth-shattering orgasm in Sebastian’s office, the man himself was knocking at the door, claiming he and the two cosmetically enhanced women needed to have a “private meeting.”
“You are both welcome to stay, of course,” Seb had said, leering at Bex. If looks could kill, mine would have murdered him on the spot. He held his hands up in defense. “Next time, then.”
“Or fucking never,” Bex huffed as we walked out. Pride blossomed in my chest at her words—there’s no way in hell I’ll ever share this woman, even if that might have been something I’d done in the past. Bex makes everything feel different… fresh and new in a way I haven’t experienced in… a long fucking time.
I took Bex home after that because it was late and I had an early flight back to LA the next morning. And because, as much as it pains me to admit it, going slow with Bex will be worth it. It’ll be fucking torture, but it will be worth it.
We stood in front of her building, kissing and holding each other for a solid thirty minutes before we had a final kiss goodnight.
“Don’t forget about me,” she whispered against my neck.
“Unlikely,” I chuckled, rubbing my nose into her hair. Her sleek updo had gotten mussed throughout the night, and it took everything in me not to pull it free and run my fingers through it. “Tonight was one of the hottest nights of my life.”
Bex laughed at that and stepped back. “Sure thing, Brad Pitt.”
I wasn’t able to respond because her lips were back on mine, but now, a week later, her comment lingers still.
“Corey, are you paying attention?”
I look up from my phone, where I’ve been scrolling through Bex’s social media, for the twentieth time in the last week. No, I’m not paying attention to Bridget, my longtime personal assistant and a producer with my production company. Bridget is no-nonsense, strict, and rule-abiding. She reminds me of my mother in a way, and since my mom passed away twenty years ago, Bridget has sort of been the next best thing. She’s been with me since my early days in this industry, and there is not a single thing that could make her flinch with shock.
Well, maybe if I mentioned I met the woman of my dreams on my last trip to Vegas. Me, slowing down, committing to someone? Bridget would commit me.
“No, I’m sorry, I was totally not paying attention,” I say, setting my phone down and focusing fully on my PA. “Can you start from the top?”
In her sixties, this woman has perfected the art of the eye roll, and she delivers a fairly earned murderous one to me. “What has you all day-dreamy lately?”
My cheeks heat slightly at how well she’s caught on, but I opt to deny and ignore. “Nothing, just a lot on my plate. As usual.” She narrows her eyes at me but says nothing. “Speaking of, I’m sorry for my lack of attention. Please, can we get back to reviewing the schedule?”
Bridget tuts, but slides her reading glasses up her nose and eyes her tablet. “Starting tomorrow, you’re back to two-a-days with Trevor. This will get you in shape for filming ‘Edgelord’ in five weeks. That shoot is a full week long, remember? The director, Mark Savage, wants multiple locations…”
She continues, but mentally, I’ve checked out again. I’m not a complete idiot; I know I booked “Edgelord” for myself, under my own production house, because, at the time, I was the perfect fit to play the main character. My time in front of the camera has been few and far between over the last year. I mostly produce or sometimes direct films for my company, Neon Nights Media, but occasionally, I partake in scenes.
Mark Savage, a director I’ve worked with before and whose work I admire, had begged me to take the lead role in “Edgelord.” And two months ago, over drinks and cigars, it was the perfect fit .
But my mind wanders to the beautiful, smart, curvy brunette I met in Vegas. Bex.
We never had an honest conversation about what I did for a living. Sure, we skated around the topic, and she seemed shocked when she learned the truth, but she wasn’t scared away. Because when I was with Bex, that part of me, that… “porn star” part of me? It felt like part of the past. How quickly that happened when I was with her.
“Listen, Corey, you’re wasting my time—”
“Bridget, I’m sorry—”
She cuts me off with a glare, and I know I need to apologize. And perhaps… fess up.
“You know I’m not normally like this,” I say, leaning forward in my chair, placing my head in my hands briefly.
“Oh, Jesus,” she groans, and I snap my head up to look at her. “Did you knock some bitch up?”
Letting out a roaring laugh, I smack my hands on my desk and throw my head back, causing Bridget to jump. “Ha! Come on, Bridget, you know I got that shit fixed years ago.”
She holds her tablet close to her chest, as if protecting herself. “Right, that’s why I’m so fucking confused, Corey!”
I groan, rubbing my temples, before saying quietly, “I met someone.”
“Of course you did,” Bridget says, simply. But it’s anything but.
“In Vegas. She works at Aaron’s casino, and I…” I trail off, because I’m not sure how to explain it to Bridget. She’s seen everything in her time with me—the highs, the lows, the ultra lows, the indecent and extreme—and yet, words fail me.
“And the big bad wolf of porn has a crush,” Bridget says, smirking as she sets her tablet down .
I open my mouth to deny or argue her claim, but, once again, words fail me. So instead, I shrug and simply say, “Yeah. I do.”
Bridget nods and sits back in her chair, crossing her arms over her chest. “Well, it’s not the worst thing. Are you going to see her again?” She catches the stricken look on my face, as if there’s a world where I wouldn’t see Bex again. Is she insane? Then she says, “Okay, so it’s a big crush. Is it serious?”
“We spent some time together,” I say, fiddling with my fingers. I am the CEO of Neon Nights Media—I do not fiddle with anything, so what the fuck am I doing right now? “I’m not sure how serious it is yet. But it feels… different. Good.”
“Okay,” she says, picking back up her tablet. “Well, I can squeeze in a visit back to Vegas in the next few weeks, if you want to see her again.”
“Really?” I ask, surprised at Bridget’s seeming show of support. I expected her to tell me to forget her, there will be more women, and move on, but she doesn’t. In fact, what she says next almost sends me falling from my chair.
“And right after ‘Edgelord’ wraps, you’ve got the Adult Film Awards in Vegas, at Aaron’s casino. Why don’t you ask her to go with you?”
My stomach fills with butterflies—fucking butterflies—at the thought of Bex accompanying me to one of the biggest nights of my career. I’m receiving the Lifetime Achievement Award, which not only makes me feel old as fuck, but proud as hell. Would Bex really want to go to that with me?
But the butterflies drop dead suddenly as it sinks in, what comes before the awards.
“Bridget,” I say, cautiously. “About ‘Edgelord’—”
“Absolutely not,” she snaps, whipping her reading glasses off her face. “You’re not backing out of this role. This director is the hottest in the industry right now, and this film actually has a half decent script,” she grumbles. “Consider this your swan song, Corey. This is the biggest budget any adult film has seen since that wacky pirates shit came out, and with you starring and executive producing? Neon Nights Media will be set for a long time.”
I sigh, knowing that she’s right, but not wanting to relent so easily. “But—”
“If this woman you met is so incredible, she’ll understand. I know you haven’t been in a serious relationship in years, Corey, and maybe this is why. But this could be your last film. Ever. Please, don’t throw it away for someone you’ve known for a few days.”
We sit in silence for a few moments before Bridget grabs her tablet and turns to leave.
“For what it’s worth, I’m really happy for you, Corey. I haven’t seen you like this since, well, not even when you were with Sabrina. Just… take it slow, okay?”
With that, she exits my office. I slouch back in my chair, rubbing my face in my hands. “Take it slow”… as if I needed the reminder.
On my way into Trevor’s gym the next day, my phone buzzes with a text. Like I always do, I glance down at the screen, hoping it’s Bex. An uncontrollable grin spreads across my face when I see her name on my screen.
Bex: still good to chat tonight?
I pause, reading her text and tapping out a response before shouldering my way through the door.
Corey: been looking forward to it all day!
Bex: same… I can’t wait to show you something
Her response came so quickly, I stop again to respond.
Corey : … you can’t leave me hanging like that princess. any hints?
Bex: see you later, big boy (wink emoji)
“Dude, you know the rules,” Trevor calls out from behind the reception desk.
“Yeah, yeah,” I say, slipping my phone into my bag and walking past the desk. Trevor passes some papers off to the receptionist and stands to follow me. “Check my distractions at the door.”
“You’re here to—”
“Focus. Grow. Build,” I recite Trevor’s personal gym motto. The guy can be focused to the point of obsessiveness when it comes to structure and routines, but that’s part of the reason he’s one of the best personal trainers in LA .
“Right. Sorry I missed your morning workout, but I trust Jeff had you sweating?” Trevor passes me in the hallway and pushes open the door for the locker room.
“Like a motherfucker,” I say, my muscles still groaning in protest from my first workout earlier today.
Trevor laughs and claps a hand on my shoulder. “Good. You’re a little out of shape, huh, old man?”
Glaring at him, I toss my bag down on the bench and pull out my shorts. I’m forty-five, but haven’t felt it… til this morning, when Trevor’s assistant, Jeff, had me grinding out the hardest workout I’ve probably done in the last ten years.
“Getting you into peak condition in four weeks is gonna be tough,” he says, watching me as I change. Not in a creepy way, but in the “let’s see what we’re working with” way.
“Nothing we haven’t done before,” I say, tossing my bag into a locker.
Trevor gives me a look. “The last time we trained like this was five years ago.”
Tilting my head, I pause before saying, “Seriously?” How has it been five years since I had to get absolutely shredded for a role?
“Yeah, when you played the main guy in that Road House parody. This shit gets harder as you get older,” he laughs, motioning for me to follow him through to the gym.
Stepping into the large open room, I am happy to see this would be a private session. Sometimes, like this morning, there’s more than one trainer in the gym with their client. And while most of us in LA politely ignore if someone famous is around us, a Real Housewife of No One Fucking Cares was training on light weights, and she wouldn’t stop staring at me. At some point, I’m pretty sure she was drooling .
But this afternoon, it’s just me, Trevor, and Sam Tinnesz on my headphones. We go through mobility and flexor moves, a bit of cardio, jump roping, and by the end of two hours, I am dripping with sweat. Trevor wasn’t lying. It’s a lot fucking harder this side of forty to swing back into it. Two-a-days might not even be enough to get me where the director wants me in four weeks, but I’ll do my damn best to get close.
It feels so good to take a cold shower afterward, but it feels even better to change into fresh clothes and slip my phone out of my bag. No new texts. I’m a bit disappointed that Bex didn’t drop any more hints while I was busy, but it doesn’t matter.
Tossing my bag over my shoulder, I wave to Trevor and the receptionist on my way out. “See you in the morning!”
The receptionist—damn, I feel bad that I can’t remember her name—doesn’t even look at me because she can’t take her eyes off Trevor. Hmmm, wonder if he notices that?
“First thing, buddy,” Trevor says. “No alcohol tonight, and a solid eight hours of sleep!”
“Yeah, yeah,” I say, waving him off.
The sun is setting as I turn my Aston Martin onto the freeway toward home. I have a video chat with my woman tonight and, after not seeing her for an entire week, there’s nothing more I need than to see her smile and hear her laugh.