Adam beams at the crowd of pariahs, his reaction likely borne of stress and adrenaline. Lucia slings one arm casually around his shoulders, making him look all the more glamorous. She blows the paparazzi kisses and bats her big, beautiful Bambi eyes. Adam is wise enough to offer Lucia the front seat—that sort of faux pas would have had serious repercussions. When both are settled in my Malibu, and with Adam’s possessions secure in the back seat beside him, I slowly back out of the driveway, accidentally knocking over one of their tripods and the expensive camera mounted atop it. The man shrieks and curses, then threatens that I’m going to pay for that. “I hope you have a miserable day,” I call out to him with a beauty pageant wave, and I mean it wholeheartedly.
Finally, we are cruising down Santa Monica Boulevard with the top down, onto bigger and better things. Just me, my BFF, and my beautiful but daft future husband.
* * *
Lucia gets called awayto show a property, so we smooch and part ways in the driveway. I insist on washingallof Adam’s clothes, including the ones he’s wearing, and offer him a t-shirt and sweats to wear while his own things are being laundered. I also check him for head lice, which he thinks is hilarious.
“Are you going to check me for crabs too?” he teases.
“Should I?” I wouldn’t put it past Diego and Holly to be spreading pubic lice with the same reckless abandon as they disseminate mediocre pop anthems.
“You probably should,” he says with a mischievous grin and tugs down his sweats. I use the same chopsticks to push his amply sized prick to one side and then the other. I lift both his balls and check there too. All clear. Adam reaches down to stroke himself a few times and I flick him with my stick.
“Ow,” he says miserably.
“Pull up your pants,” I command and toss my chopsticks into the kitchen sink. “We’re in crisis management mode.”
“I feel so used,” he says with a dramatic moan and hugs himself tightly. “All I really wanted was a quick blowie.”
I stare at him, debate with myself for a moment, then forge ahead. “There’s one thing I must tell you, Adam, and it’s very important. I never want to hear you use the word ‘blowie’ in my presence again. It sounds like something you would do to a baby’s belly button, not the act of giving or receiving head. Fellatio or blowjob are perfectly acceptable substitutes. Even skull-fucking is preferable to that term.”
“All right, my bad.”
“Did you use protection?”
“With Holly, yeah, I’m not trying to be anyone’s daddy.”
“But not with Diego?”
“Latex tastes gross.” He makes a yuck face, and I recall all the ripe jock cum he must have ingested back in Tennessee.
“You should get tested. I’ll take you to a clinic tomorrow.” He nods and I proceed with my next question. “So, after getting you drunk and having their way with you, did they at least offer to let you spend the night?”
“No, I had to take an Uber home all sticky and gross.”
“Did they pay for it?”
“No, I’m telling you, I got wham, bam, thank you, ma’amed.”
“It certainly sounds like it.” I shake my head, irritated by their complete lack of hospitality. The three of us are going to have words. “Adam, Adam, Adam, what made you think this was a good idea?”
“It’s your fault,” he says petulantly and points at me. “You were the one talking about social capital and being selective. I thought I might get a spot in one of their music videos at the very least.”
“Did you negotiate that?”
“In between body shots and Diego whispering all the ways he’d like to fuck me? No.”
“There’s a saying in Hollywood, get the verbal before giving the oral.”
“Really?” he asks, and I nod gravely. “Well, I didn’t get the verbal or the oral.”
“Yes, you got truly fucked,” I agree.
“Am I ruined?” he asks with a touch of melodrama that I find strangely endearing.
“Precious boy, you’re not famous enough to be ruined. Not yet. Now, my suggestion to you would be to play coy on social media, tease it out like you’re not admitting nor refuting your involvement. Record some sexy little video and dedicate it to your two special friends, D&H, that sort of thing.”
“Wow, you’re really good at this.”
