One True Thing (3 page)

Asher

“COME this way. I shoot back here.”

I led the newest girl—Britney, I thought—

down the hall to the third bedroom in the apartment

I shared with my twin, Archer. A three bedroom in

West Hollywood had been ridiculously expensive,

but the room had great light, and I needed it for my

job.

“Um, so what do I have to do?” Britney

asked. She was my third Britney in a month.

Before that had been Ashlee, Jessica, and Cindi—

all hopeful, all down on their luck. They’d come to

me, hoping I’d give them the look to get hired.

Most of them assumed I’d want something other

than money in return.

I coughed. “The bathroom’s right there if you

want to check your makeup or hair. I’m useless at

that. I’ll get the studio prepped.”

“You mean—”

She thought I wanted sex. I shook my head.

“Just go ahead and get ready. I’ll get my cameras

set up.”

I fiddled with my tripod and the draping that

I’d set up. Britney had requested my “vampy”

package, so I’d gotten out the red velvet curtains

earlier, and set up the bed in the corner with silk

sheets, lamps, and candles. It looked like a scene

right out of some teenaged girl’s fantasy. Britney

probably had been one of those daydreaming teens

not too long ago. Too bad all she got was a gay

photographer to take her picture, and if she was

lucky, a career in porn.

“Um, I’m ready.” The girl stood hesitantly in

the doorway to my studio room.

“Okay, let’s start with a few in your street

clothes, some face shots, and then we’ll move on

from there.” I kept my voice businesslike but

gentle. Britney looked a little more scared than the

rest of them. I gestured to a plain wooden chair.

“Why don’t you sit on that chair backward? Rest

your face on your forearms.”

She walked hesitantly over and straddled the

chair, resting her face on her arms like I’d

instructed. I guessed she was one of those girls

who was barely out of high school. She was

eighteen, I’d made her show ID, but I would guess

she hadn’t been away from home for long.

Runaway? Kicked out? I had heard just about

every story. They usually started to talk when they

realized that I wasn’t ever going to touch them.

“This okay?”

“Looks great,” I said. Truthfully, she had too

much makeup on, and the poor thing was fake-

tanned within an inch of her life, but they all

wanted a break so desperately. I saw in her eyes

that Britney was no different. “Okay, let’s do some

shots with your bra and panties.”

“O-okay. Just take my jeans off?”

I nodded and gestured to a hook over in the

corner of the room. It was the part I hated most.

Not the actual pictures, but asking the girls to take

off their clothes. Truth was, if they wanted a job,

they’d have to do it. But it didn’t mean I liked

asking. Britney’s jeans and tank top disappeared

quickly, and she stood awkwardly by the bed. I

had to hold in a sigh. It was going to be one of

those.

“So, Britney, the way this works is I’m going

to need a variety of shots both from the front and

the back, with your underwear and then naked. It’s

best if you start in a position that’s comfortable,

and we’ll go from there, okay?”

“Okay,” she answered with a tentative smile.

She crawled, coltish and unsure, onto the bed, and

tried her best to strike a sexy pose. I started

clicking and gave her as much encouragement as I

could muster.

By the skin of our combined teeth, Britney

and I managed to get through the photo shoot

without major mishap, and enough decent shots that

I could have some ready for her to send to different

studios. Part of me wanted to tell her that anything,

even flipping burgers, was better, but then I thought

that maybe it really wasn’t so bad. “It’s just sex,”

my brother Archer always told me. “Quit taking

shit so seriously.”

“Why are you so nice?” Britney’s voice

surprised the hell out of me. I’d been in the kitchen

pouring an iced tea and letting her dress on her

own.

“What do you mean?”

“I mean, you’re the first guy I’ve met in this

business who didn’t assume I’d be ready for sex.

Why?”

I shrugged. I didn’t feel the need to tell every

girl who passed through the door that I was gay.

“It’s business. If you get in with the big studios, the

owners are all in it for money, not to get laid.”

(Partly true. I hoped.) “Hopefully these shots will

help.”

“Well, thank you anyway.” She hesitated at

the door.
Shit. Here it comes.
“Listen, I haven’t

been in town long. Would you like to get some

dinner sometime?”

I sighed. I felt awful for her. “Sure. As long

as it’s just as friends. I’m… well, I’m actually

gay.”

Britney’s sigh of relief was far lustier than my

sigh had been. “Thank God. I really could use a

friend. Would you mind?”

I handed her another of my cards. “Give me a

call sometime. We can talk about anything but

porn.”

She laughed and took the card. “Sounds

perfect.”

I was cleaning up and putting the props away

later when I heard the front door open and slam

shut.
Archer.
My brother should’ve been at work

—I looked at my watch—for at least three more

hours. I knew, because I usually got whining phone

calls for a ride home at least twice a week. For as

much as we looked almost exactly the same, my

twin brother wasn’t much like me. What he was,

most of the time, was irresponsible, snobby,

promiscuous, and entitled. Sometimes I wondered

how we’d popped out of the same woman’s uterus.

I loved my brother, for those rare good moments

we had, but sometimes I wondered if Archer was

going to be a screwup for the rest of his life.

I poked my head out of the studio. My brother

was indeed home, with some random twink on his

arm.
Typical.
He was wearing some shorts that I

had never seen before and a new pair of sandals.

Half the time it seemed like he spent most of his

paycheck on new clothes rather than real things,

like bills. Archer and his friend were giggling and

leaning on each other, running into the wall and

swaying.
Skipping work and drunk in the middle

of the day. Fantastic.
I wasn’t surprised.

Disappointed, but not surprised.

“What are you doing here?” I asked. Archer

hadn’t noticed me until I spoke. Once he did, he

made an exaggerated shushing noise and covered

his lips with his finger. Then he rolled his eyes.

“We’d better be quiet. The fun police are

home. Fuck, Asher, maybe we should just ship

Mom down here. She can ground me when I don’t

do what she wants.” Archer rolled his eyes again.

Drinking buddy number ten for the month snorted

and buried his face in Archer’s neck to laugh.

“I’m serious, Arch. Why aren’t you at work?

Your shift isn’t over for hours.”

Archer coughed dramatically, trying not to

laugh. “Well, you see, I woke up this morning and I

just really felt sick—”
Cough, cough
. “—so I

called Marcie and told her I needed to go to the

doctor.” More laughing. I started to wonder if they

were more than just drunk.

“And is this your doctor?” I gestured at

gigglepants.

“Nah.” Archer held up a bottle that he’d had

concealed behind his leg. “I saw Dr. Cuervo

today. Cured me with just a couple shots.”

I groaned. “You’re an ass. Our rent is due in a

week and a half.” I only made Archer pay a third

of it, since I used the extra room anyway. Lots of

months, I was lucky to get a quarter.

“Why don’t you take more nudie pics if you

need the cash?” Archer’s lip curled. He knew I

was embarrassed about that, and he still said it

every damn time. I, who was thrilled that every

single one of my twin’s dumb friends knew what I

did for a living, shook my head and turned to go

back into my studio.

“You coming out with us tonight?” Archer

called, like I ever went out with Archer and his

buddies. There was mocking in his voice, but only

someone who knew him well would hear it. He

was playing nice for whoever the twink on his arm

was. Must be hoping to get laid.

“It’s Wednesday. I have to work tomorrow.

So do you.” I shut the door to my studio on my

brother’s mocking face and went over to the pile of

mail I’d brought in earlier. Hopefully it would

contain something that would make my day. I’d

been applying at magazines for months, hoping to

get that one break that would take me away from

porn photography, from shooting guys in khakis for

catalogs, the one that would make me a high

fashion photographer… the kind who didn’t have

to share an apartment with slobby Archer and his

plethora of wayward friends.

There wasn’t anything. Of course. The only

bright side to my day, if you could call it a bright

side at all, was the fact that I’d made a new friend.

Britney, real name Lizzy Shelton, from Sutton,

Nebraska. We were going to have lunch in a

couple of days, and we’d both agreed to talk about

anything but porn. I hoped that having at least one

real friend would save her from that look that I’d

seen so many times—the dead, empty eyes with the

fake smile, the smile that said “give me my money

so I can get the fuck out of here.”

I’d seen too many girls die that way, alive but

not really. There didn’t need to be another.

Chapter Two

Dusty

“ERIK, do you want me to make you another

sandwich before I go?”

“No, thanks,” Erik called distractedly from

the living room. “I can make another one later if I

get hungry.”

I snapped the lid back onto the container of

tomatoes I’d sliced up for our lunch and shoved it

into the fridge. I had to be at work in less than an

hour—it was one of my late days when I worked

from one to nine instead of my usual ten to six—

but I had just enough time to put everything away

and clean up the kitchen before I left. I knew Erik

would appreciate it, even if he did normally avoid

the room outside of mealtimes, and I never liked to

leave a mess behind for someone else anyway.

That was one of the few lessons I’d taken away

from being raised in the Davis household. We

should always,
always
clean up our messes.

A wet splat to my right brought my attention

to Alice, who was sitting in her high chair and had

just tossed the remains of her avocado fruit salad

onto the floor.

“Uh oh,” I said, snagging a couple of paper

towels from the roll on the counter. “Did you have

an accident, baby girl?”

Alice giggled at me and flailed her chubby

little arms, sending her spoon and sippy cup flying

off the tray to join the chunks of fruit and yogurt

that had splattered across the sand-colored

ceramic tile. Thankfully the lid of the cup stayed

on tight, but the sound of it rolling across the floor