Dick Dynasty: Porter Part 19

"Porter," she tried to interrupt my performance, "this isn't-"

"G.o.d! I love the way you feel around me!"

Holly rolled her eyes and pushed firmly on my chest, forcing me to take a step backwards, "They're not going to leave, Porter. If anything, they're going to set up a picnic outside the bedroom door and get wasted while they eavesdrop."

"We are not!" their voices chimed in unison from the hallway outside the door.

Holly turned the k.n.o.b and swung the door open to reveal the two of them camped out on either side of the hall with a bottle of champagne and a gallon of orange juice between them.

They smiled up at us unabashedly.

"I guess that's what I get for giving you the benefit of the doubt," I said through gritted teeth as I wrapped the towel around my waist and moved to find my clothes.

"We lost our last communal shred of dignity a few years ago," Becks proclaimed as she took a sip of her mimosa.

"I think we left it somewhere in WeHo," Mitch clarified, "Those clubs have a way of gobbling up whatever self-respect you have."

"Why am I still friends with you two?" Holly asked as she stepped over their pow-wow and went back into the living room.

"The two of you are the biggest c.o.c.k blockers ever," I accused before kicking the door shut in their faces.

I could hear their laughter even as they made their way down the hall to rejoin Holly.

If I had known what that morning would do to the rest of my life, I might've done things differently.

Looking back on it now, I'm glad I didn't.

"Has it really been three months?" Porter asked groggily.

"Mmhmm," I responded as I kissed his neck, "Three months ago today was the first time we had s.e.x."

"I think I like the s.e.x even better now," he still hadn't moved a muscle since I had rolled off of him.

"I'm pretty sure I can agree with that statement. My furniture on the other hand," I surveyed the wreckage of what had once been a lamp and an end table, "not so much. We really need to work on our landings."

"I'll put it on the to-do list."

Those were my favorite moments. Post-s.e.x pillow talk with Porter Hale was an experience in and of itself. He was usually the one talking everyone's ear off, so I cherished the moments when I had the upper hand and his brain was still disconnected from the rest of his body.

"How'd your audition go today?" I asked as I traced a finger down his bare chest. We were lying on the living room floor after barely making it inside with our clothes on.

"It went well, I think. But in the long run, we both know it's going to come down to politics."

I knew he was right and hated it. He had real talent and some serious devotion to his craft. We spent a good portion of our time together going over lines and blocking out his auditions, so I had seen first-hand what he could do. Unfortunately, most production companies couldn't see past the horrendous mess that would come with casting a p.o.r.n star in a mainstream film.

"It's a numbers game, Porter," the line felt rehea.r.s.ed with how many times I'd had the same conversation with Becks over the years, "You just have to keep at it. You'll get a role eventually."

"I know," he sighed, "I think I'm going to officially announce my retirement. It can't hurt anything, right?"

I knew exactly what kind of PR nightmare it would create for him, but if he was serious about making it in the mainstream industry, it was a good move.

"I think it's been long enough that people won't really be surprised by it," I said, "I think it's a good move for your career, to be honest."

I wasn't sure how much of that was the girlfriend in me talking and how much of it was the industry expert, but the ring of truth from both sides was loud and clear.

"There will be some pretty upset fans, but I think you're right. It'll blow over relatively quickly and, hopefully, make the right impression with the guys who make the Blockbusters."

He was somewhere else, probably piecing together the press release he'd have to put out. Stepping away from the kind of reputation he had was never easy. I'd seen actors try and fail more times than I could count and I knew the toll it could take on a person. Most people have major issues with letting down a single person; he was being faced with letting down thousands.

I didn't envy him his position.

"I should call Ryan," he ran a hand down my back before finally sitting up, "he's been my manager for a decade now. He should be the first to know. Then I get to figure out how to tell my brothers."

"You need me to do anything?" I offered, "I'm pretty good at the moral support thing."

"Thanks, babe," he kissed the top of my head and helped me to my feet, "but I think I've got this part. Ryan and his team will handle most of the hard stuff. I just need to figure out how to break it to him gently that he's losing a multi-million dollar client so that he doesn't have a stroke."

"Does he have any contacts outside of p.o.r.n? I mean, does he really have to lose you? A good manager can make or break you when it comes to this industry."

Porter shook his head, "I need it to be a clean break. If I'm really gonna get out of this, it's gotta be totally and completely."

"I don't think that's really possible, Porter. Your brothers are both still major players in the game and you can't just cut them out of your life because you're changing direction. I have to strongly recommend you keep Ryan on-board if he has connections you can use to get a role."

"Hmm," he pondered as he stepped into his jeans, "I guess I can talk to him about it. There's a lot hanging on how this conversation goes and the best a.s.surance I have right now is a loose hope that he takes the news fairly well. I'm gonna head home and get the ball rolling. Let's do dinner tonight and I'll catch you up on it then."

"Okay," I wrapped my arms around his neck, pressing my bare chest to his before he could put his shirt on, "call me if you need anything."

He leaned down and kissed me, "I'll talk to you soon."

I walked him to the door as he slipped his shirt over his head and left without a backward glance.

It would be at least four hours before he finished his business, so I set about figuring out how to best use the time to keep myself from going crazy waiting.

As usual, my best available option was Becks and Mitch. Those two could take my mind off just about anything.

I shot off the text and began to clean up the wreckage Porter and I had left behind. Twenty minutes later had the distraction I very much needed.

"Where's Porter this evening?" Mitch asked after a cursory glance toward Porter's usual spot on the couch, "And what happened to the end table and lamp?"

"He's got some work stuff to take care of." I intentionally ignored the second half of his question.

"Wait, he went back to making p.o.r.n? I thought he was on hiatus!"

The pure and unbridled pleasure that washed over Mitch's face at the idea of having more videos of my boyfriend to watch made it almost pleasant for me to crush his dreams.

"Nope. Sorry. Different kind of work."

"An audition?"

"No," he was prying, "that was earlier today."

"You're killing me here, Holly."

"And loving every minute of it, Mitchel."

"No Porter tonight?" Becks asked before she had even made it all the way through the door.

"I see where your loyalties lie," I rolled my eyes.

"Porter's off making p.o.r.n," Mitch smiled over my shoulder at her.

"He is?" The joy on Becks' face was comparable to Mitch's.

"No. He's just taking care of some work stuff," I interjected.

"Work stuff is p.o.r.n stuff where Porter's concerned," she countered. Becks was more hopeful for more naked Porter than Mitch had been.

"Not this time," I confirmed, "he's putting together a press release for his agent. He has some stuff coming up that needs to be addressed a little bit ahead of time."

"She's holding out on us, Becks," Mitch pouted as he returned with three gla.s.ses of wine, "I already tried. She won't give us anymore."

"Secrets don't make friends, Holly," Becks chided.

"You're already my friends, Rebecca. I'm not trying to make any new ones. Besides, loose lips sink ships and I'm not done with my cruise on the S.S. Porter. You can ask him yourself the next time you see him. If he doesn't mind telling you his business, he'll share. If not, you can hear about it with the rest of the world."

"Buzz kill," Mitch whined.

"You don't have a buzz to kill yet, drama queen."

He smiled at me and raised his gla.s.s, "Oooh! You're right! Let's fix that!"

"I'll drink to that!" Becks cried as she lifted her own gla.s.s.

"Amen, sisters," I touched my gla.s.s to theirs and we drank.

"Mmm," Becks swallowed her wine quickly, "Since you're not in a sharing mood, I guess I'll go first!"

Mitch and I both stared at her, waiting for her to share whatever it was she was practically vibrating over.

"Becks, I have wine to drink, spit it out."

"I landed a job today."

"What?" Mitch shrieked, "Honey, that's fabulous!"

"Becks! Why the h.e.l.l didn't you say anything sooner? You let me sit here wallowing like a little b.i.t.c.h through half a gla.s.s of wine!"

"It's nothing major, but it's not a commercial or a s.h.i.tty horror movie either! I'm pretty excited about it!"

Mitch and I set our gla.s.ses down on the coffee table and each of us claimed a shoulder. Becks laughed at us as we snuggled up to her in celebration.

"Even if it was a toothpaste commercial, we'd still be excited for you, babe!" I gushed. "I knew you'd make it happen!"

"Yeah," Mitch agreed, "as long as it wasn't like, a denture glue commercial or something. That would be a little too far below you. I don't think I could be proud of you for that."

"It's a supporting role in a film by a new director, but it's for a Lion's Gate film. This is my shot at the big leagues, guys!"

The sound of shattering gla.s.s ruined the moment and all three of us screamed like we were being shot at. When nothing else came crashing through the front of my house, we cautiously rose from the couch and went to peer through the hole in the window of my front door.

A huge rock sat below it in my entry way wrapped in a piece of tattered paper.

"What the f.u.c.k, Holly?" Becks asked, her hand shaking in mine.

"When did you move to the projects, girl? This is some bulls.h.i.t!" Mitch's hand was also shaking.

I reached down with a trembling hand of my own and loosened the paper from the projectile that had just come through my front door.

Letters of different colors, fonts, and sizes had been cut out of magazines and newspapers and glued to the page like a ransom note from a bad movie.

"What does it say, Holly?" Mitch asked from his position at Becks' side.

I licked my lips before reading it for them, "Watch yourself s.l.u.t."

"f.u.c.k this! I'm calling the police!" Beck's marched up to my now-useless front door and yelled through the hole, "You hear me? I'm calling the police! I hope you enjoy jail you sick b.a.s.t.a.r.d!"

I sat down on the couch in shock, both unable and unwilling to believe what had just happened. It's not like I lived in Compton. I fished my phone out of my pocket and sent a text to Porter while Becks relayed what had happened to the police.

"You doing okay, Holly?" Mitch sat down beside me and briskly ran a hand over my knee, "Do you need anything? More wine? Some water? Food?"

"Wine," I agreed, "Thanks."

"Of course!"

He retrieved our gla.s.ses from the coffee table and hurried to the kitchen to fill them.

Two gla.s.ses later, I was beginning to feel a little bit better and my shock was slowly replaced by fury.

"Who the h.e.l.l would do something like this to me?" I demanded of Becks, "I mean, I've had s.e.x with one person in the last billion and a half years! That hardly makes me a s.l.u.t, right?"

"Holly, if sleeping with one person makes you a s.l.u.t, I don't even want to know what that makes Mitch." Holly laughed into her wine, "He must be the new wh.o.r.e of Babylon if that's the case!"

"Amen to that, sister!" Mitch raised his gla.s.s to her.

"Holly?" Porter's voice came from the front porch.

"In here!" I called back, "It's open! Obviously."

"What kind of city do we live in where your boyfriend can get here from across town faster than the police?" Becks scowled.