With chargers resolved, I slid the backpack down between my legs and leaned my head against the headrest, closing my eyes and taking a breather. Doubt washed over me the moment my brain began to quiet. This was an awful idea. I knew it deep down. My intuition was too good. I always felt the truth in my gut, even when it was the kind of truth I didn’t want to face. And this was one of those truths.
I loved my job in the adult industry. It was a big middle finger to everyone who ever told me I had a pretty face or that no one would want a body like mine. But it was more than that.My job fulfilled me. It made me feel powerful. In control. It gave me community. Family, even. But Teddy’s new venture with Hopeflix had reawoken dreams I’d put to bed before I could even verbalize them. I’d wanted to be an actress since first grade when I had my first speaking role in the school’s production ofCharlotte’s Web. (“Look at that pig!”)
It was a few years, though, before I was faced with the realities of being the fat girl with leading-lady aspirations. Eventually, my dreams faded. When it came to acting, it was easier to leave it entirely than watch from the sidelines. It was one clean heartbreak instead of lots of tiny cracks.
But now as an older, more sure version of myself, I wanted to take back the dreams that were stolen from me simply because some high school theater teacher couldn’t imagine someone like me getting the guy or saving the day. And everyone in porn—especially women—had an expiration date. I couldn’t help but think this might be good groundwork for future Bee. And yet, I had a hard time imagining how I would even pull this off.
“This is a bad idea,” I finally blurted as we saw our first sign for LAX. “I need to call Teddy and tell him he’ll have to find someone else. And Nolan Shaw! I haven’t even wrapped my head around the fact that I’m supposed to be costarring with Nolan Shaw.”
Sunny let out an excited shriek. “Do you think it’s best to come clean about the INK shrine above your childhood bed before or after you finish filming?”
“Sunny! This is not something to joke about!”
“You used to jack off to the ex–boy band member you’reabout to star in a time-traveling Christmas movie with. Oh, and you’re a porn star. That is prime joke material.”
I let out a soft whimper as I gripped the center console. We needed to go home. We needed to turn this car around.
“Okay, okay,” she said, pulling off on a random exit and into a gas station that had a big sign readingparking lot karaoke saturday night. She slid the car into park and took her seat belt off so she could face me and give me her full attention. “You once did a sex scene on a Jet Ski. With a life jacket on. You can do this, Bee. And I’ve seen those videos and pictures your moms showed us when you took me home for Thanksgiving that one year. Little Bee was a total theater nerd. Little Bee is livingfor this moment.”
“Adult Bee is too,” I said softly. “But I’m scared. I’m scared I’ll fail. I’m scared I’ll meet Nolan and he’ll be an asshole, or I’m scared he’ll meet me and be one of those awful piece of shit guys who are like ‘fat chicks need not apply’—”
“Okay, first off. Fuck that potential version of Nolan Shaw. You are a goddess and there are literal human beings in your inbox who would pay to clean your house for you.”
“I know, I know, I know. But it’s just... God, I loved him back in the day. I still have INK in my playlist rotation. But... he’s expecting Winnie Baker, Sunny. Not Bee Hobbes, total unknown.”
“To him,” she muttered, and then in her this-is-all-fine-everything-is-under-control-these-nipple-clamps-aren’t-stuck-they’re-just-stubborn voice, she said, “Listen, I heard Winnie wasn’t the only person taken out by UnFestival. Some crewmembers were there with her, and you’re not the only replacement Teddy had to come up with on the fly. So there will be friendly faces too. That’ll help. And you’ll have me. I’ll text so much you’ll want to bury your phone in a foot of snow.”
“Not possible,” I said. “Okay, well, maybe a little possible. But what other porn people? Anyone I know?”
She shrugged as she put her seat belt back on and shifted the car into drive, deeming my crisis averted. “I’m not totally sure. I heard he was trying to get ahold of some people, but with Christmas coming up, the pickings were slim. So it sounds like it might be a mix of old- and new-school people.”
“Okay, okay. That makes me feel... better.”
She pulled back onto the highway and took the next exit for LAX.
“Oh no, wait. What are you going to do for Christmas?” I asked. “Fuck. What am I going to tell my moms?”
“Bee. Shut up. You know you’re my favorite gentile, and I never even did anything for Christmas before I met you.”
“False.”
“Okay. I did do one and a half Christmases with Cooper before we broke up, but those don’t count. His parents open presents on Christmas Eve. Who does that? Isn’t Christmas Day the whole point for you people? And your moms—they’ll be fine. Hell, maybe I’ll go home to your place for Christmas and live it up as an only child.”
“My helicopter moms would actually love that. I assure you.”
The ginormous white LAX sign cast a shadow over the road as we pulled into the airport and took the signs for Terminal 4.My brain began to revisit the remaining list of all the reasons why I should not do this. “What if someone finds out I do porn?”
“Okay. This has two possible outcomes. The first and most likely scenario is that no one finds out. The people who watch those vanilla-ass excuses for movies are definitely not the same people who haveBianca von Honey underwear for salein their search history.”
“I don’t sell my underwear,” I clarified.
“Semantics,” she said. “But don’t pretend you’re above it.”
“Fair. Okay, what’s the second, scarier, much more awful scenario?” I asked.
“The second scenario is that the people at Hopeflix find out about the job you openly do on the internet.”
She said it so simply, but it wasn’t quite that uncomplicated. There was Teddy to consider. And Nolan, even. The Hope Channel and what they might do when they found out. They were the kind of company that had morality clauses in their contracts, so I didn’t think they’d super love finding out how creative I’d been with ropes and condom-covered cucumbers in the past.
