Exposed: A Novel (14 page)

Chapter 34
Taylor

Adrenaline ran through my veins and crawled into my hands. I pounded and pounded the window, screaming so loud I could’ve stopped the wind right in its tracks.

I didn’t bother to look at Andy. My eyes fixed themselves on the cop until his eyes turned from wonder to concern. Then I turned to Andy. And his Freddy Kruger smile stopped my breath.

Oh, no. Daddy if you hear me, help.

Andy kept smiling. For the life of me I couldn’t figure out why his face beamed, now, of all moments.

The cop tapped on the passenger window, right there in the middle of traffic.

Andy winded the window down.

Out of breath, I looked back and forth, from cop to Andy, Andy to cop, until the officer spoke. “What’s going on, Andy?”

You have got to be kidding me, I said to myself, feeling like a melodramatic child.

I tried to stop the gush of tears, if anything to prevent the ache in my chest from getting worse. But I couldn’t. I freaked out, screamed, “No,” shook my body back and forth like a crazy person, wailed, “No,” some more.

I “lost my beans” as Daddy used to say. For once, I could relate to the bulging-eyed man I sat with in the Psych Ward at GBMC when Mom brought me there after my first suicide attempt. A good girl. People always thought of me as the quiet, good girl. They didn’t know how bad I wanted to die after Mom’s boyfriends touched me. They didn’t know I hid behind good grades and plastic smiles when everything about me felt dirty, like now. No safe place, no clean place, just filth and lies and bruises, and I couldn’t take it anymore.

Every man except Daddy only wanted me for my body. There were tons of bodies in the world; I didn’t understand what was so special about mine.

Andy explained away my problems. Explained my drug problem, my overdose (which never happened) on painkillers after my breast implant surgery, my battle with Syphilis (not true). And the cop, who I could hear amidst my freak out attack, said, “Yeah, I’ve seen her in your work. She’s good. But I didn’t know she was like this.” He laughed. Yeah, laughed. Then smiled and winked. “Guess I’ll watch your other girls from now on.”

Andy smiled and shrugged, wound up the window, accelerated out of the officer’s view and drove me back to his house in the most horrifying silence I’ve ever experienced.

I looked out the window at the trees, the birds, the air, the clouds floating under a baby blue sky, and that’s when I officially realized there could never be a Creator. Not in a world like this. God wouldn’t let this happen to me if He cared about me. Unless He liked to see kids abused and prostitutes die of AIDS and orphans die without ever helping them.

It didn’t make sense.

The only thing that made sense was the non-existence of this absent God.

So I started to believe, so strongly, in nothing.

I can’t explain what happened to Andy after my moment of insanity. But he stopped locking me in the bathroom and pampered me again. He didn’t let me go back to my apartment though. And he made me get out of the lease until he could trust me again.

“What can I do to make you trust me?” I asked.

He slapped me for asking, so I didn’t ask again.

I did eight more video shoots in the next two weeks, complete with new boobs. That made a total of thirty-six Internet movies in just a few months of being a porn whore (my name for it). And I don’t know if it was my plastic body or what, but Andy’s status in the amateur porn industry soared. He sent my pictures and movies to huge agencies and one day Zayta Fontayne—she worked with some big deal agency—called him.

And it was a big deal. So much that Andy hung up with her and jumped up and down like a kid in his living room.

“She loves you,” he screeched like a teen boy whose voice hadn’t deepened. “And she loves me.”

I sat on the couch, erasing my daily nightmares with pot, as Andy paced the living room talking of how rich he’d be. Marijuana smoke snaked through the air in front of my face. Andy ran up to me, shook my shoulders in a playful way, and said, “Thank you.” I saw that same glimmer in his eyes that I saw on day one.

Finally he sat down and explained to me the deal. “Apparently their director left after they decided condoms weren’t necessary anymore. I guess some of them leave it up to the actors now, whether they want to wear one or not. So after he left they got another guy, then another, and now they need someone else. They saw our stuff, loved my directing, loved your abilities and looks, and now they want us to move down there and sign a contract. They’re not a huge agency, not mainstream, but they are bigger than us.”

I puffed another trail of smoke. “Move out where?”

“Florida. Seems like mainstream porn is getting bigger in Florida. And Zayta said she’d take care of you.” His smile annoyed me. “She knows her stuff, knows this industry like she was born to work in it. And she said she hasn’t seen talent and beauty like yours in a while.”

I scratched my head and fluffed my hair.

“I told you I’d make you a star.”

“Thanks.”

Andy went into the kitchen and came back with two wine glasses and a bottle of wine. Interesting choice for a porn director, but whatever. Nothing made sense anymore. Nothing except nothing.

“I don’t want to move to Florida.” I scooted my wine glass to the side.

“Taylor, do you realize you can make more money under Zayta’s wing? She’s got a lot more experience and I have no doubt that we’ll see her in the big agencies one day. Not to mention you’ll get more respect. You’ll do fewer movies a year for more money.” He stood, then sat down next to me. “They have pretty high standards, you know. This is your big chance.”

I looked away from him, wanting to pull my hair out. The last place I wanted to be was in some unknown state where dozens of porn people lived. I wanted to get out of this world and find something else. I just didn’t know how anymore, or where I’d go, or who would want me.

I imagined going back to Mom but, yeah, that wouldn’t happen. Not to mention the fact that her boyfriend probably saw my, um, work. And I didn’t want to find out what kind of doors that’d open.

“How long until we do that?” I said.

“She said they would give us about six weeks to get our stuff together, move down there, get settled in and sign the contract, then show me the money baby!” He stood up and imitated Cuba Gooding. “Say it with me,” he said. “Show me the money.”

No, thanks.

I played with my earring and stared at my shaking foot. I could play calm so well until I realized how bad my foot vibrated, then my voice would follow, getting all shaky and everything.

I stopped my foot and looked up. Took all I had to remain calm.

Andy sat down beside me. “You’re not telling me you want to turn this offer down, are you?” He rubbed my cheek with the back of his hand, disgustingly nice.

“I don’t know.”

“You really don’t have a choice, Sadie girl.” His pitch went down an octave, not a good sign, unless you want your flesh bruised. “This is our chance, without you I’m nothing. They want both of us. They don’t even care about Gianna, Sunny, and Kelli. They want you. Just you. Don’t you realize what this means?”

Gianna. I missed her. I missed having someone who understood. Only thing Andy understood about me was how much money he could get out of me, and the size of my body. He even had my wrist measurements memorized. Six inches even.

He walked across the room, sipped his wine, and looked at me. “This is your future.” He set the glass on his fireplace mantle. “You could be famous, you know?”

He did have a point. Maybe one day I’d end up at Gianna’s favorite agency, with the pros. She dreamed of being there. Yeah, dreamed. I’m not making that up. She raved about them all the time. Said they would take great care of her. Not sure about the agency’s name, I never cared to remember. But I did remember that their actresses weren’t allowed to do drugs on the set. You could pick and choose the types of films you did and didn’t do. Really you could be more in control and that’s what she liked. That sounded good to me. No longer would I be a puppet. And I could rise to fame and meet Justin Timberlake or Rob Thomas. Definitely a bonus. Maybe Rob Thomas would whisk me away and show me a better life.

Yeah, right. What kind of normal guy would want me—a Chlamydia-infested porn star?

Well, I thought. If I’m gonna do porn I might as well get famous doing it.

Andy smiled, rubbed my chin. “I knew you’d soften up.”

He walked out of the room again. I sucked the life out of my joint. I never imagined I’d smoke pot, much less snort coke and have sex on camera. Images of myself as a little girl showed up in my dreams all the time. I’d run and play and splash in puddles. Then I’d wake up and wish I could go back to that time of my life.

Nothing about doing what I did felt right, but I didn’t know anything about right, or left, or anything. So I had to learn to make myself believe I liked doing what I did. Mind over matter, I’d tell myself. No other way to deal with it, so I let Sadie get angry, have power trips, and use porn like a drug to get what she wanted—attention, success, power. Some days I actually enjoyed it.

Although if I really thought about it I didn’t like the idea of other men looking at me like that, especially married men, but I didn’t think about it too much. I let it be what it was, and figured their addictions were their problems anyway, not mine.

Besides, I had enough problems of my own.

Chapter 35
Ally

I fidgeted with the covers, trying my best not to look in Jessie’s eyes.

He asked again. “Have you seen Sean?”

“Would it bother you?”

“So you did?”

“Would it matter?”

He shook his head. “I already have my answer.”

I pulled the sheets to my chest and turned to my side, away from his accusing eyes. Yes, I saw Sean, but Jessie didn’t know the truth. He didn’t know that I couldn’t kiss Sean because I desperately loved my husband. I didn’t want him to know the truth. I wanted him to fight for me.

But he followed my lead and rolled over.

No fight. No begging. No tears.

I twisted the sheets in my hands and scrunched my face. Minutes piled on top of each other as I silently cried, and soon enough Jessie’s rhythmic snore told me how much he cared.

Tired of crying, I watched shadows of tree branches quiver in the room as I tried to think of a plan. Either to get my marriage back together or allow it to crumble. Neither felt good right now, but I needed to choose one and run with it.

I woke up the next morning for work with no resolve, no plan, and no feelings toward anything at all. I figured I’d wait and see what Jessie did. See if he truly wanted to stop looking at porn. See if maybe he’d fight for me, chase after me, something.

I placed our marriage in his hands and went about my day.

Lauren greeted me at work, double looked at me, and pretended not to have done so. I forgot I dyed my hair until then. People must’ve thought my brain departed from me. Definitely a justifiable thought. I’ve never been the type to wear loads of makeup or accessories, never dyed my hair until then, and I certainly would’ve never had silky straight hair smoothed back into a low ponytail.

Times change, people change, I reasoned.

I walked into my office and saw my desk. Covered in Post-It notes. Again. I needed to find another way for Lauren to keep me “posted.”

I stuck all the notes together and put them to the side, then went through my emails, trying my best to forget about my disastrous marriage. Every now and then a note from Jessie popped up, but I didn’t read any of them.

Before I finished responding to emails Lauren stuck her head through the door to prepare me for my first client. A new woman. Sarah Donahue. Her husband refused to come, but she wanted to talk to someone to find out how to restore her marriage. Not sure she came to the right person, but anyway. . . .

She walked in the room, a beautiful, beautiful smile across her face. A little surprised, I walked over to her and shook her hand.

“Sorry I’m a little late.” Gentleness glided off her voice. “Derek was arguing with me as I walked out the door.”

By the softness of her voice, the sweetness in her eyes, I couldn’t think of a reason her husband would argue with her. But I figured I’d find out soon enough.

We sat down, prayed, then she told me about her history with Derek.

“We were high school sweethearts,” she said with a smooth smile. “We fell in love my junior year and the romance between us was always there. He was always sweet and gentle, always held doors open for me, gave me cute little gifts, all that.” She placed her hand over her mouth and cleared her throat. “Excuse me.”

“When did things change?”

“Oh, well, we got married when I turned twenty. He was twenty-one. And everything was perfect for a while even though we were so young. Everyone thought we’d fail, but we had a great start to our marriage.” She counted on her fingers. “About nine months into our marriage I found pornographic magazines hidden in the basement.”

My half-smile weakened.

“He denied they were his. And I believed him. He’s always been a nice guy, you know? Really sweet, sensitive, he even cried when we watched romantic movies together. So,” she laughed sweetly, “you can imagine how much of a shock this was to me.”

“How did you feel when you found out? Besides shock, I mean.”

“Honestly, I know his struggle with porn isn’t about me, so I didn’t worry about it too much. I told him I loved him and I’d help him get through it, but he never admitted to doing it.” She looked down. “Then I found 900 numbers on our phone bill and I confronted him, but he didn’t seem to mind. He told me he needed to release his stress and it was the only thing that worked.”

I nodded, speechless.

“Well, he’s only gotten worse. I think he might be sleeping with another woman, but I don’t know for sure. And our romance is gone. He barely looks at me when we eat dinner. He’d rather eat on the couch while he watches TV.”

I shifted in my chair. “How do you feel about this?”

She shrugged. “I think it’s not me that’s the problem. He’s got some issues deep down that have nothing to do with me, but what hurts me the most is that he’s turned his back on God.” Finally, a sign of sadness crept into her eyes. “I told him I’d always be there for him. And I’ll always love him, adultery or no adultery. But I want him to turn back to God. It kills me to see him try to fight this alone.”

Her words. I can’t even explain what they did to me. My heart almost exploded and flooded my eyes. But the young woman in front of me hadn’t a tear in her eye. She sparkled with a love so bright she didn’t need to smile. I could see her smile in her eyes. And I wanted that. I wanted that even more than I wanted the physical beauty Jessie admired all those years.

I wanted to ask her how she did it. How she loved someone like that, someone running around with other women and staring at naked girls. But I couldn’t ask my client for advice, not unless I wanted a new job.

“You seem very joyful amidst this,” I said.

“Yes.” She smiled. “You’re probably wondering why I’m here, right?”

I nodded.

“I promised him I wouldn’t tell anyone. I don’t want to embarrass him. But I needed to talk to someone about it.”

“I see.” I longed for the joy in her eyes. “So you are absolutely okay with the way Derek is treating you?”

“No. I’m not okay, but I will fight for him even if he doesn’t want me.” She clasped her hands in her lap and smiled. “I love him. I really, really do. Just because he wants to cheat, doesn’t mean I’ll stop being faithful.” I thought of Dad and cringed inside. “I’d die for Derek.” She looked down. “And so I am.”

“You are dying for him now, you mean?”

“Yes. Every day.” She paused. “I’m not going to lie. This hurts. It’s the worst thing I’ve ever experienced. My heart feels dead at times. I have insecurities and I often want to look like other women. Sometimes I struggle with wanting to blow up at him, or walk out, or cheat on him too.” She shook her head. “It’s not easy.”

“What do you think keeps you from doing those things to Derek?”

“Jesus,” she said without hesitation. “It’s like St. Therese said, ‘Since Jesus has gone back to heaven, I can only follow Him by the path He has traced.’”

“You must love your husband a lot,” I said, wondering how little I loved my own.

“Yes. But I love God more. And He fills me. He fills me so much that my husband can empty me and I’ll never dry up.”

This woman’s joy flushed my face. My body tensed. I couldn’t be around her anymore. She flaunted her happiness and it annoyed me. Her smile and her immense love for God and her husband. Yes, it seemed admirable. I suppose. I couldn’t help but think her words were lies though. She had to be holding a mask over her face. She wanted me to believe she didn’t cry herself to sleep at night, but she probably did. No one could be that joyful while being a doormat.

There’s no way, I thought. Absolutely no way a woman could be joyful in these circumstances.

Our time was up. Thankfully. I couldn’t listen to her talk about her profound love anymore. But next time she came in my office I’d surely peel away her mask and reveal her true colors. Surely.