I gave her a look. “You really want me to turn in a three-thousand-word essay about a porn shoot?”
She grinned wider. “Why not? It’s still a film production. Buster Ace can literally be your mentor.”
Disgust was the first emotion I felt just thinking about that, then I felt a sense of excitement, which I immediately pushed aside. I forced another unsettling emotion, which made my skin crawl. “I love you, Holland, but you need to stop talking about him before I’m physically unable to go back there.”
“Come on, it would beauthentic.” She nudged me with her elbow. “You’d probably be the only one who writes about something people actually want to read. Everyone else is gonna turn in something about student films where no one knew how to hold a boom mic.”
I shook my head. “You’re insane.”
“Maybe,” she said, grinning, “but I’m right. Because in this room, you’re the only one who was actually born with talent, and whatever you write about always gets high praise from everyone.”
I tried not to smile at the compliment, but I failed. “Thank you, Holls, but you’re a great writer too.”
Before she could respond, Hayes clapped his hands at the front of the room. “All right, that’s it. Three weeks. Real experiences. Now, let’s look at some of my favorite old school indie movies that never got enough recognition.”
While Hayes talked, I started taking notes but got lost in my thoughts trying to find the right thing to write about. I wrote down the names of a few seniors I knew were working on something, and I also added professors to the list in case I wanted to ask them questions.
I noticed Holland peeking at my notebook, and after a while, she leaned in again and whispered. “You know I’m right, Lana. You should write about Buster Ace and his industry. You’d kill that essay.”
“Or I could just pick a normal topic like everyone else.”
She pursed her lips to hide a smirk. “Normal is overrated. Besides, you’ve got front-row seats to one of the weirdest corners of filmmaking. Use it.” She paused, then added. “Or I will.”
Scrunching my nose, I imagined Holland on the set of one of Callan’s movies, wide-eyed as she admired her surroundings. To be fair, she’d totally fit into that world, and since she showed so much interest, I figured, why not give her the go-ahead?
“Fine with me.”
She narrowed her eyes. “You’re really going to let me watch your stepdad direct and act in a porn movie?”
“First of all…” I turned more toward her with a pained look on my face. “He’s not my stepdad anymore because they got a divorce. Second, you realize that you watching him have sex isn’t even half as weird as when I’d do it, right?”
Holland studied me as if my words didn’t make sense, then she made a face that said she was halfway between horrified and impressed. “Yeah, okay, when you put it like that…gross. Never mind.”
“Exactly.”
She laughed under her breath and leaned back in her chair. “Still, though. You can’t deny that living with him is probably the most film-adjacent experience any of us has. You’ve got everything there. Hell, even the acting direction. Just minus the clothes.”
I pressed my pen to the notebook and stared at the half-written notes in front of me, pretending I didn’t hear her.
“Come on,” she whispered. “You could write about how he frames a scene, or the ethics of intimacy on camera, or whatever fancy thing professors like to read about. You don’t even have to say whatkindof film it is. Just call it…an independent adult production.”
I tried not to laugh. “That’s the worst euphemism I’ve ever heard.”
“But it’s accurate.”
“Yeah. Sort of.”
Holland was silent for a moment, then she gasped out loud, as if her own thoughts surprised her. A few heads turned, and she apologized. Then she whispered to me. “You could make a mockery out of it. Like, if you don’t like the fact that it’s porn, just…make fun of it or something. It’s still different from what everyone else here will write about.”
I shook my head and smiled gently. “I’m really thankful for all your help, Holland, but I will find something else to write about.”
She noticed how serious I was and that I didn’t want to talk about it anymore. So she nodded and gave me a tight smile before focusing on what Hayes was saying.
8
Lana
Holland nudged my side as we stepped out after class ended. “So? What’s your plan?”
