Dick Dynasty: Porter Part 11

I eyed him suspiciously, "You drove to my office, wooed my secretary, and gave me a heart attack for the sake of saying h.e.l.lo?"

"Yep!" There was that smile again.

He glanced down at his watch and clapped his hands together before announcing, "I think I've done enough damage around here for the day! I better get out of here before I start a riot."

He rose to leave and I hurried to walk him out.

He turned before I could catch up to him and, with one hand on the door, said, "You really did a number on my brother at dinner last weekend. Keep it up. His ego could use a little abuse."

I stopped in my tracks and stood there with my mouth hanging open and eyes wide.

"See you around, Holly!" and he was gone.

My brain was having a hard time translating what I'd just heard. There were a billion and a half questions buzzing around in my head and I d.a.m.n near ran out the door to chase him through the parking lot. Had Porter talked to him about me? What had he said? Did he think I was an awful b.i.t.c.h for the way I had run out on dinner? Why the h.e.l.l did Preston think I had done a number on his brother? I beat up Porter's ego?

Mitch burst into the room a few seconds later, pulling me out of my stunned reverie.

"Oh my G.o.d, Holly! OhmyG.o.d ohmyG.o.d ohmyG.o.d! I can't believe Roman Ruff was just here! Why the h.e.l.l didn't you tell me he was so much s.e.xier in person? I almost swooned, Holly! Me! I don't swoon!"

In all the years that I had known and worked with Mitchel Michaelson, I had never seen him act like this. There were A-list actors in and out of the office all day every day and not once had he ever been outwardly star-struck by anyone.

I couldn't stop the giggle that bubbled out of me.

"Holly Nash, this is no laughing matter! What the h.e.l.l is wrong with me?"

I sat down in one of the chairs in front of my desk and he sat in the one next to me.

"You were just in here telling me to bang Porter and completely ignored the fact that my v.a.g.i.n.a started a revolt the moment I saw him. Now you're in here complaining to me because you got d.i.c.kmatized by Preston. If this isn't a laughing matter, Mitch, I don't know what is!"

I broke into another fit of giggles when his only response was to furrow his brow at me and pout.

"I'm beginning to think the entire family made a pact with the devil to give them power over all s.e.x organs." The look on his face as he spoke was priceless.

My fit of laughter was renewed as I remembered my conversation with Becks.

"You need to call Becks and tell her that," I wiped the tears of laughter from my cheeks, "She doesn't believe me."

"Ooooh!" he jumped to his feet, "She'll be way more excited about this than you are!"

He ran out of my office without even waving goodbye.

I shook my head and smiled as the last of my giggles subsided. At least someone else could suddenly understand my pain.

The envelope Preston had left on my desk caught my eye and curiosity finally got the best of me. I leaned forward and scooped it up, turning the blank yellow paper over in my hands looking for some kind of hint as to what to expect when I opened it.

I slid my finger under the flap and carefully pulled it open. The glue easily gave way and I reached inside to retrieve the contents.

Three pieces of paper had never felt so heavy.

Porter's brilliant blue eyes stared up at me from the first page. It was a headshot printed on thick, glossy card stock. I could tell he'd gone through the entire gamut of professional styling for the shoot and he looked almost as good as he did in person. His smile was warm and welcoming and the leather jacket he wore gave him just the right touch of bad boy to spark the tingle deep inside of me. I quickly put the photo face down on my desk before things got out of hand.

The next page appeared to be a resume. There were a lot of blatantly adult films, a few that could go either way, and a brief but impressive stint in musical theatre.

The last page raised more questions than my conversation with Preston had.

It was a white piece of cheap printer paper that you would find on most fax machines all over the world. Four words handwritten across the center in bold black marker had my head spinning with uncertainty.

Give him a chance.

I sat on my couch and sipped at a beer while I waited for Parker to arrive.

He had sent me a text message that morning asking if he could come over and talk. He even offered to bring food.

Something was wrong. I could feel it in my gut.

He hadn't asked to come over and talk in years. We had all just gotten so busy that slowing down and just hanging out together wasn't an option for us anymore. Given his situation and the fact that I hadn't heard from him since the fight at Preston's house, I cancelled the plans I had already made and bought a case of beer.

Three rapid knocks followed by two slow knocks signaled my brother's arrival. It had been his signature knock since we were kids.

The door opened a moment later and Parker walked into my condo with his arms full of takeout containers.

I slid the remotes to one side of the coffee table and set the books I kept there on the end table next to me.

He set the boxes down and sat on the couch with a groan, "I hate the traffic in this city. Can we move somewhere else and choose a new mecca for the p.o.r.n industry, please? Somewhere out of the way, preferably. Boise maybe?"

"Too b.u.m-f.u.c.k for me. Preston might go for it, actually," I smiled over at him, "I hear there are a lot of Mormons there though. I don't think they're overly-excited about the adult film industry."

"Mmm," he nodded and reached for the nearest box, "Good point."

Something was different about him. He was focused, his eyes were clear, he wasn't twitchy, and I hadn't seen him brush at his nose once since he'd walked in.

"Parker," I couldn't stop the smile that spread across my face, "Are you sober?"

He smiled into his food without making eye contact again, "Yeah."

"Bro! That's huge! How long? You're looking great!"

"Since that morning at Preston's. I called Mom that day and kinda spilled my guts. She actually went with me to my first N.A. meeting the next day. I stayed at her house for the first week while I detoxed. It wasn't pretty, Porter," he still hadn't looked up from his Chinese, "but she took care of me. I was a real a.s.shole. I'd get restless and then get p.i.s.sed off about being stuck in the house, which would just make me more restless. I felt like a caged animal. I tried to leave a few times even when she begged me to stay. I made it as far as the main gate once. Did you know that she owns a beanbag cannon? I woke up in cold sweats every night from the nightmares, but she never left my bedside. She was there with water and an ear every time. I must've kept her awake for three days straight. It's a wonder she didn't kill me. Then I wanted to do nothing but eat and sleep. I probably owe her thousands of dollars for all the Pop Tarts I ate. Anyway, fourteen days clean and sober."

I was at a loss for words. Very few things had the ability to shock me into silence, but that conversation wasn't one I had ever expected to have.

He finally looked over at me and what I saw in his eyes gutted me.

There was nothing but pain staring back at me. It was like talking about it forced him to live the entire experience all over again. There was a familiar light that I had grown accustomed to seeing in them and I wanted it back. At that moment, I would have given anything to see my little brother smile again.

Say something, you idiot!

"I've been a real a.s.shole for the last couple of years, Porter. I'll make it up to you somehow. I promise."

"Parker, you don't owe me anything. This is the best thing you could ever give me. Stay sober. That's all I need from you."

A shadow of the smile I was looking for curved his lips.

"You remember how I ate everything in Mom's house? That part hasn't gone away yet. I'm starving to death. Let's eat?"

"Sure," I stood to grab plates, but he grabbed my arm before my a.s.s had completely left the couch.

"Porter, we don't have cooties. We can eat out of the boxes."

I smiled at the memory of sharing takeout from the box with Parker and Preston as teenagers, "Of course. Want a beer?"

"No," his right leg started bouncing, "That's been the hardest part. Drinking just makes me want a line and I think the point of sobriety is to avoid wanting a line."

"I'm such an a.s.shole! Do you want something else? I've got water, milk, juice, and quite possibly a random case of Capri Suns. Which I may or may not have bought for myself this morning."

The glimmer returned to his eyes and a huge smile split his face as he let loose with unbridled laughter, "Capri Sun sounds great. Thanks."

I grabbed a bottle of beer and a pouch of juice from the half-empty box. I caught the door to the fridge just before it closed and glanced down at the beer in my hand.

Such a douche.

I returned the beer to the shelf in the door and grabbed a shiny silver packet of sugar water for myself.

"Heads up!" I tossed the childhood favorite into his waiting hands.

"Thanks. For everything."

I knew what he was saying, but couldn't think of anything appropriate to say in response. I nodded at him and flashed him a smile as I jabbed my plastic straw through the foil pouch in my hand. I lifted it toward him in salute, "Cheers to you, to life, and to mom."

He touched his juice to mine and we each took a sip.

"Let's eat."

I expressed my agreement by ripping open a box of fried rice and practically dumping it down my throat.

"It's a good thing I got two orders of that!"

I swallowed, mostly without chewing, "You know fried rice is my favorite."

He laughed and opened his own box of the salty fried-rice goodness, "I do. And orange chicken, broccoli beef, and for good measure, a double order of crab wantons."

"Have I ever told you that you're my favorite brother?"

"Only every time I buy you Chinese food."

"Good. Because it's true."

"Until Preston buys you Chinese food."

"Well, you can't always be the favorite! There's enough of me to go around!"

We ate the rest of our meal in silence. There was barely enough time to breathe, let alone speak. Parker took a break from inhaling dinner just long enough to replenish our Capri Suns. He immediately returned to his gigantic helping of orange chicken.

When the last grain of rice had been chased out of the last container we both leaned back against the couch and sighed, content.

"I'm a little bit sad every time I eat Chinese food. I know I'll just be hungry again in twenty minutes. But holy s.h.i.t that was delicious." I sucked up the last of my juice and tossed the pouch on top of the pile of empty cardboard containers.

Parker's head rested against the back of the couch and he was staring absently at the ceiling, worrying his bottom lip.

"That was a p.o.o.p joke, Parker. You didn't laugh. What's on your mind?"

"I talked to Preston today. He's still p.i.s.sed and not nearly as optimistic as you are. It was a little rough is all. I'm still trying to figure out how I'm gonna make things right with him."

"s.h.i.t." Preston was notorious for holding wicked grudges. "I'm pretty sure he's still p.i.s.sed at me for the time I let him take the fall for my bong. He didn't talk to me for a month after that."

"This is a little bit bigger than us leaving your bong in his room, Porter."

"I know that, Parker. I was trying to empathize. How do you want me to handle this? Do you want me to tell you that the best thing you can do is leave him be until he gets over it? Is that the truth you want to hear? Sadly, it'll be torture on you the entire time. If you want to make amends, you have to wait until he's receptive. If you try to go at him for forgiveness right now, he'll throw it in your face and spew whatever venom he has toward you without feeling bad for it. If you wanna stay on the wagon, I don't recommend putting yourself through that."

"I know. I only got the tip of the iceberg today. I've f.u.c.ked up in some big ways over the years and I didn't expect him to just forgive and forget over night. h.e.l.l, I didn't expect you to be so cool about it. You've spent years beating yourself up over my mistakes and I let you do it. No more, Porter. You hear me? If I f.u.c.k up again, it's my mistake, not yours. I'm an adult, capable of making my own choices and dealing with the consequences."

Who the h.e.l.l was this guy and where had he come from? Since he was old enough to talk, Parker had always been one to point the finger at everyone but himself. Accepting that his actions affected other people wasn't something I'd ever seen him do.

"After he finished telling me how it was only a matter of time before I slipped up, he did give me an interesting bit of information about you though," he smiled again, one of the toothy, genuine smiles our family was known for.

"Oh, G.o.d. That worries me."

"I'm told you have a lady friend! That bombsh.e.l.l from the premier party? What was her name?"

"Holly," I muttered as I got up to get a beer, "and I wouldn't call her a friend."

"Holly. That's right. Holly Nash, the casting director. Preston says she really did a number on you. Got you all tied up in knots over what she thinks and s.h.i.t."

"She's a meal ticket, Park. Nothing more. I care what she thinks about me because she is one of the biggest names in her industry and I want to get the h.e.l.l out of p.o.r.n."

"Does she know she's just a meal ticket? Have you told her this?"

"Of course not!" I yelled from the fridge, "You know how it is. You've gotta play the game if you wanna get a foot up anywhere. Especially coming from the p.o.r.n industry. I'm a PR nightmare. It's going to be h.e.l.l to get anyone to take me on and give me any kind of serious role because half the planet has seen me with my d.i.c.k buried in some floozie."

"Preston said he went and saw her today."

I set my beer down on the counter and stepped around the half wall that separated the kitchen from the living room.

"What?"

"Yeah. He had just gotten home from her office when I called him. Wouldn't give me any details, but he was there with your lady friend."

"Hmm," I mused, "I knew they were friends before the party, but I didn't think they were the kind of friends that dropped in on each other at work."