“Your calendar’s on your phone.”
“Fine, I have to check with Cassius first.”
“Is he running your career now too? And what happened to your accent?”
I smile, proud of my latest achievement. It took a shit-ton of practice and a lot of spankings, but I finally lost it. Hopefully for good. “I told you I wanted to get rid of it. I sound like a native now, or what my acting coach calls a Standard American dialect. I’ve been taking classes with Jean-Pierre Renault. Have you heard of him?”
“No,” Elliot says, and I’m not surprised. Jean-Pierre is a relic from another era, another lifetime. How lucky am I that he decided to take up coaching?
“He’s great. He was in this soap opera calledSunset Covewith Cassius’s mother—”
“Another of Cassius’s friends?”
“I don’t know about ‘friends’ but definitely ‘acquaintances.’ Cassius knows practically everyone in this town.”
Elliot slams his hand against the table so hard that it rattles my fat-free, sugar-free, soy vanilla latte. “Don’t you see what he’s doing? He’s weaving a web all around you to trap you. He’s making it so that you have to rely on him for housing, for income—”
“For orgasms,” I interrupt.
His expression flattens and he puffs air out his nose. “You should beterrified, Adam.”
I shrug. Like most artists, Elliot can be overly dramatic sometimes. “I’m not, though. Cassius is really nice to me. He compliments me and buys me stuff and tells me how beautiful I am.” He also calls me a dirty cum dumpster sometimes, but I’m okay with that too.
“He’s appealing to your vanity,” Elliot says.
“So?”
He shakes his head, getting frustrated with me. Honestly, it never took much. “I know you’re not this stupid, Adam.”
“Hey,” I say, offended. It’s not the same as when Cassius says it, almost lovingly. Elliot really thinks I’m being dumb. So not cool.
Elliot says, “You’re smarter than this. And more independent too. I know it might seem good right now, with him spoiling you and telling you all these nice things, but it’s not going to last.”
“Really? Why not?”
“He’s going to get tired of you. You’re very pretty and charming, but even you won’t keep his attention for long. They never do.”
That might be true. Lucia definitely seemed surprised at Cassius’s claim that we were even a thing. “I’m not trying to marry the guy,” I tell Elliot, though he’d probably make a good husband—rich homeowner, eight-inch cock like a savory summer sausage, knows how to order off the wine list… “And why would I leave him when he’s being so good to me? Shouldn’t I wait for him to start being an asshole before I even think about breaking up with him?”
“You have to leave him before you get too attached, Adam. That’s what I’ve been telling you all along. Before he cracks open your rib cage and rips out everything good and pure about you.”
Ugh, Elliot is sounding more and more like my father who told me I was impure and sinful when he learned about my craving for dick. Thank God Isaac was cool about it, or I would probably hate myself right now.
“There’s nothing wrong with me, Elliot. At least Cassius doesn’t think so.”
Elliot shoves one hand through his greasy hair. “Look, I know being liked is important to you.”
“It’s important to everyone.”
“Yes, well, it does feel good to be liked, to be adored, but the shine will wear off. Pretty soon you’re going to see Cassius for what he truly is. A lying, manipulative snake. And when you do…” He sighs dramatically. Great timing on his part. “Just know that I will be there for you.”
“Okay, thanks, I guess.” Elliot is claiming Cassius is the manipulative one, but he’s the one doing it right now. “I’ll ask Cassius about posing for you.”
“Fine,” he growls, not liking that at all.
We talk about other things for a little while longer—the weather, food, our favorite TV shows—but it’s not like how it used to be when I first came to L.A. because I can tell he’s judging me, hard core. Maybe Cassius is right. Some friendships you just sort of outgrow.
Chapter9
