32. Chapter 32
32
Sophie
Miles hasn’t left my side all day, save for the occasional bathroom break. We attended a panel this morning on sexual assault in the industry, listened to survivors bravely telling their stories and experts talking about how it’s far more prevalent than anyone realizes. A burlesque performance after lunch had both of us squirming in our seats.
Now we find ourselves browsing the marketplace and all the amazing booths before it closes for the evening. We take selfies with performers who are representing various brands, production companies, and agencies. A new production company called Exxxess, based out of Las Vegas, has two very familiar faces.
Vera and Penny squeal when they see us, hurrying over to hug me. They’re wearing the skimpiest shorts and most revealing tops they could possibly have chosen. I’m desensitized after seeing a well-known porn star wearing nothing but rhinestone pasties and a matching thong.
“We didn’t know you’d be here,” says Penny, excitedly.
“I never even thought to ask,” adds Vera.
“Neither did I.” When their eyes fall on the man beside me, I jump. “Oh, this is Lance Kixxx. Lance, this is Penny Pepper and Vera Connor.”
“Nice to meet you.” Miles holds out a hand and they exchange greetings.
“So, why are you with a Vegas company?” I ask. I don’t have any experience with pro shoots yet, so I have no idea how this works.
“Oh, our videos are slated for release later this year,” explains Vera. “So we’re promoting the company prior to that.”
“Come over, we’ll introduce you!” Penny grabs my hand and practically pulls my arm from its socket in her attempt to get me to the booth faster.
I recognize the man seated in one of those foldable chairs you see at kids’ baseball games–the cloth ones that are next to impossible to get out of and super uncomfortable for my particular shape. Long Ron Wilson has more than ten years of experience in the industry. I’ve admired him for a while now. He’s covered in tattoos, including a few on his face. Nearly every inch of skin below his neck is inked with a variety of designs, none of which seem to flow together. He’s tall, probably Miles’ height if my judgment is correct. His tousled, nearly too-long, brown hair always seems to look as if he’s just been fucked. The flecks of gray in his short beard are new, but then again he might have simply stopped coloring his facial hair.
Penny’s grip on my wrist verges on painful, but when we reach Ron, she drops it. He smiles, the corners of his hazel eyes crinkling with the expression.
“Hey, Pen, who’ve we got here?” He looks me up and down, but only in a way that seems as if he’s trying to figure me out. There have been plenty of times I’ve felt fetishized or objectified by a look like this, but not with this man. With him, it’s friendly, even innocent.
“This is Honey Dee Vine,” says Penny. “Honey, this is Long Ron Wilson.”
“I love your work,” I blurt. I have enough sense not to slap my hand over my mouth, but Ron just continues smiling and stands, offering me his hand.
“Thanks, I think I’ve seen a bit of yours. You worked with these beautiful ladies recently?” He nods at Vera and Penny, shaking my soft hand in his weathered one.
“Yeah, we worked together in New York last month.”
“I think I caught a post about it and I took a look. Have you worked with any pro directors?”
“Er, no, not yet.”
“Maybe we can change that.” His eyes land on Miles and I see him do the most cartoonish double take. “Lance?”
“Hey, man.” Miles has been standing silently behind me, patiently waiting to be noticed. He steps forward, placing a hand on my lower back.
“Hey, been a while.” Ron folds his arms across his chest and grins. “LA, right?”
“Yeah, Honey and I are based there. ”
“Right, right.” Ron nods as if the memory is coming back to him. “Who did we shoot with?”
“It was an orgy,” says Miles. I send him a sideways glance. I guess it doesn’t surprise me that he’s done that. A lot of men in the industry do group scenes at least once. Some even make a habit of it.
“Oh yeah. Good times.” Ron returns his focus to me, reaching into his back pocket to pull out a business card. “Here, take this. Give me a call sometime next week and we’ll get you to Vegas for a shoot if you’re interested.”
“That would be amazing.” I accept the card and tuck it into the side of my purse.
“Enjoy the convention. I’ve heard there are some great performances tomorrow.”
Just as Miles and I are leaving the Exxxess booth, I see the huge banner for Gargantuanal. Directly below it, Talia Sins is standing between two men–clearly fans–who have their arms around her waist on her bare skin, posing for a photo. She’s wearing a bright blue string bikini and matching pumps. Her blonde hair is tousled in soft waves and it looks like she’s wearing extensions, given her shorter ponytail at the party last week.
When the two fans begin walking away, having gotten their photo with her, Talia’s eyes fall on Miles and me. She waves us over, grinning ear to ear.
“You found me.”
“We did,” Miles chuckles. “Quite the outfit.”
“I know, thank goodness it’s warm in here.”
Before I can pipe up, my phone vibrates in my purse. When I pull it out to check the screen, I see that the number is blocked but there’s no warning about a potential scam at the top.
“I’m going to take this,” I mutter, finding my way to the edge of the marketplace before Miles or Talia can protest. The Gargantuanal booth is among the outer row, so it’s a quick walk. “Hello?” I ask into the receiver when I find a spot. I plug my opposite ear to hear better.
“Sophie.”
A chill runs down my spine.
“Caleb.” For the second time in as many days, my chest is tight.
“You changed your number, baby.” Caleb’s voice is soft and menacing–a threat and definitely not an empty one. I remain silent. “What, no love for me? That’s all right, baby. Tell your boyfriends I said hi. ”
He hangs up and my legs shake. My breathing is ragged and shallow. I stagger to the wall and slump against it, trying to remain standing. The familiar threat of tears pricking the back of my eyes forces me to tilt my head back in an attempt to keep them at bay.
The moment I feel Miles’ hands on my arms, I know I have to tell him. Brody knows, so my other boyfriend might as well know too. Miles’ voice breaks through my racing thoughts, repeating my name, trying to get my attention.
“I’m ok,” I finally stammer, meeting his gaze. “I’m ok.”
“You are not ok. What the fuck is going on?” Despite the forceful language, I hear the concern in his voice.
“N-not now.” I can’t do this now. I can’t fall apart now. “I have to film in a couple of hours.”
I make it through my scene with no issues–it’s a pretty vanilla video we planned, so there’s nothing to trigger me. Showered and dressed, I find myself in Miles’ room as we planned. I promised to talk later and it’s later. Time to talk.
I pick at the couch cushion beneath me while Miles sits on the far side, giving me space, waiting for me to speak.
“The phone call,” he offers in an attempt to help me get started. I breathe out slowly before answering.
“It was my ex.” I hate the terror in my voice. “He, er- It-it ended- No.” I shake my head and Miles reaches out a hand to pat my knee.
“Take your time.”
Another deep breath steadies me and I stare into those golden brown orbs that want so badly for me to trust him.
“My ex wasn’t a good guy.” My voice is stronger, just a bit louder now, but there’s still a wobble to it. “It was ok when we first started dating and I was only making solo content. He liked it. He liked watching me.” I pause to swallow and try to keep my breathing consistent.
“A couple of years ago, I got an offer from someone, a creator with a bigger following. He wanted to shoot with me.” I cast my eyes down to where Miles’ thumb is tracing circles on my skin, making it difficult to concentrate. “I didn’t ask before accepting. I just told Caleb what I was doing.”
“And he didn’t like that.”
“Exactly,” I whisper, raising my eyes to his again. “At first,” my body begins to tremble and I can feel my jaw threatening to lock up, “it was just little things. Verbal stuff. Insults.”
Miles scoots closer. I know he must feel how my body is reacting, but he continues to keep his hand where it is, touching me nowhere else.
“It-it didn’t get bad until a few months before-” my breathing hitches, “before I moved. He h-h-”
“You don’t have to keep going. I get the idea.”
“I have to,” I whisper, but those damn tears are threatening again. No secrets. “It got worse and,” I take a deep breath, “one morning, he-he held a knife to my throat.”
I press my lips together, trying to convince the damn tears to stay back. Reaching my hand up to my neck, I trace the small line, not even two inches long. It’s puckered and a shade darker than the surrounding skin. Located on the side of my neck, it isn’t overly obvious. If you don’t know it’s there, you’ll miss it.
“What the fuck?” Miles is seething. The switch happened in the blink of an eye–from supportive to furious. He’s staring at the spot just above my fingertips, eyebrows pulled down. His breath rushes in and out heavily through his nose as if he’s trying to keep himself from saying anything else.
“That was in February. I left when he went to work that day. He thought I was away for a collab, but I took everything I needed and just… never went back.”
“Sophie, I-I didn’t know,” Miles whispers.
He moves closer, raising the hand on my knee up to my face. I lean into his palm, closing my eyes against the pain and terror threatening to overwhelm me. We stay like that for several seconds, the heat from his hand helping to calm my racing heart.
“I’m here for you.”
Those four little words release the floodgates and rip a sob from my throat. I hate this fucking feeling–helplessness, terror, a lack of any solution to this stupid fucking problem. It makes me want to scream and cry and rage against the man who turned me into a creature of fear.
Miles is here, though, wrapping his arms around me once more, making me feel as if nothing can touch me. Not even Caleb. That’s not true, of course. Brody can’t keep me safe either. Even when I tell him everything, the extent of Caleb’s violence, he’ll still be powerless to stop him.
Am I going to have to run again?