Now, if Devi was in there…
I drop into a chair by Vida’s desk, crossing my long legs as she sits. She appraises me, and I find myself shifting a little. Her gaze is too perceptive…too kind. There’s understanding in her faded blue eyes, and I remember that she’s been divorced twice, that she’s been in this business for twenty-five years. I remember that Vida’s studio was one of those involved in the Great Logan-Raven Break-Up.
“It’s okay to need time,” she says, glancing past me to the door I just shut in the hallway. “We’ve all been there.”
“I’m fine,” I lie, maybe a little too convincingly, because she shrugs like she’s ready to move on, and then a tiny, silly part of me wishes that she would keep asking about it. I’ve kept this heartbreak under wraps for so long, held it inside me, and suddenly I wonder if it would hurt less if I simply talked about it. Instead, I’ve trapped the pain inside myself, a hungry wolf that’s long since devoured my heart and is now gnawing on my ribs, snarling and howling in the empty space where my heart used to be.
But the moment is gone, and Vida is all business once again. “Sinfully Vida has weathered the last year as best as can be expected,” she says, referring to her production company. “But we took a hit with the rape stuff. I won’t lie. It was a pretty big hit, and it left a huge gap in our content.”
The rape stuff. It hit everyone pretty hard here on the west coast, the accusations that one of porn’s biggest stars was a rapist, and then of course, the follow-up allegations that porn had fostered a rape-friendly culture. Studios had hurriedly re-drafted performer agreements, pulled down content featuring the accused, and splashed disclaimers all over their websites. Even I was affected, receiving fucktons of hate mail from people all over the world, even though I barely knew the guy who’d been accused, and I made consent a huge part of my work.
It sucked. It still sucks.
“Sinfully Vida had more content with him than any other studio,” Vida says, and there’s a note of betrayal in her voice. “And so we not only have a content gap, we have some image rehabilitation to do.”
“Thus the Lelie purchase,” I fill in for her.
She nods, tapping her fake nails on her desk. “Yes. Buying them is good for business. We need more ‘feminist’ porn, and we need it yesterday.” She says feminist with air-quotes, as if it’s some ridiculous, imaginary concept, and if Tanner were here, he’d lose his progressive shit. I bite back a smile as I imagine it, and Vida mistakes my expression. “So you’re onboard?”
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.”