Survival of the Fiercest (19 page)

“I’ll take that.” She smiles.

Josie’s pink phone vibrates, and she frowns at the text.

“Everything okay?” I ask.

“It’s Skinny,” she murmurs, handing me her phone.

You’ll be back, bitch. You can run, but you can’t hide.

The subtle threat sends a chill down my spine. “Do you think the restraining order with help?” I ask.

“No, but it will help when we go to court,” she says.

Her shoulders slump, and I wonder how much abuse she has endured from him and the industry. Enough to give it all up, apparently. No wonder she was clinging to Evan. Any sign of caring could be misconstrued.

I return her phone and suggest she block Skinny. She nods rapidly at the idea, and I show her how to do it, but her fingers hover over the screen. It’s another step away from Skinny and toward a new life. I tell her I understand that she is scared, and that she can do it later, but she sucks in a deep breath and presses her finger to the screen. Her chest falls with relief, and she takes my hand. “Thank you.”

“You’re welcome,” I say to my brave new friend.

Chapter Twenty-Two

Handing Josie my pink controller, I rummage through my junk bin of electronics for a second one. Cables, wires, my video camera, and my old game console all end up on the floor. Josie picks up the video camera and starts watching the last video recorded on the tiny screen. Eureka! Controller in hand, I pull myself out of the techno landfill and shove it aside.

“Is that Naomi Campbell?” Josie asks.

I swing around next to Josie and stare at the little screen. “Yeah. Randy, my style editor, did a Fierce Female Friday with her at last year’s Fashion Week.”

“What’s a Fierce Female Friday?”

“Every Friday we post an interview with a woman who is successful in her field. I’ve been posting reruns because I don’t have any new ones done.”

Josie is silent while I fire up the console. When I get comfortable on the floor next to her, she says, “Successful porn stars aren’t a good look, huh?”

“You mean for a Fierce Friday? Yes, they are! They are even more interesting when they want to make a career change.”

Smiling, Josie turns the video camera on me. “So, should we do an interview?”

“Yes! But can you do a video when you are about to go to court?”

“Don says I can still do press as long as I don’t mention Skinny trying to intimidate me.”

An hour later, Josie Vasquez has turned back into Josie Pink. Her hair is curled and shining, her pink lips are glossy, and her eyes are rimmed with fake eyelashes. Instead of her signature pink bustier, I’ve given her a white oxford shirt and a simple gold necklace. It’s Josie does J.Crew.

Setting up the camera and tripod, I put on my glasses and get comfortable in the sofa chair across from Josie’s position on the couch. Turning toward the camera, I give my introduction. For the next thirty minutes, Josie and I talk no-holds-barred, and our exchange is as seamless as a conversation between old friends. It’s thrilling when we huddle around my laptop and review the video.

“Josie, welcome to Fierce Female Friday. We are really excited to have you here.”

“Thank you, Lex. I’m honored to be here.”

“You have had a successful career in the adult film industry for over ten years. You’ve starred in over one hundred adult movies, appeared in music videos, created a line of sex toys, and you have appeared as an animation in one of the Grand Theft Auto video games.” I lean in. “Most adult film actresses are not household names, but before we get to now, I want to start at the beginning. Where and when did it all start?”

“Growing up in San Francisco, it was just me and my mom. We didn’t have money. I wanted to be an actress, become famous, have enough to take care of my mom—buy her a nice house, a car, give her money…the dream. Ya know.”

“And your father?”

“Long gone by the time I was eight. He left us with nothing, and my mom had to work two jobs. To help out, I got a job as a bartender when I was seventeen. I had a fake ID saying I was twenty-one. It was a rock ‘n’ roll bar with live music. I’d sleep through class and go to work, or skip class and go to work.”

“Is it safe to say school wasn’t a priority?”

“Yeah. School didn’t fit into my lifestyle,” Josie says with a hair flip. “Most days I would go to auditions in the afternoon and work at the bar until three in the morning.”

“And did you get acting work?”

“Well, I met a lot of famous people who would come into the bar and gas my head up, telling me I was beautiful, that they had connections, and that they could get me in a movie. I went to auditions, but the guys always tried to play me.”

“What do you mean play you?”

“They tried to fuck me. I tried to get an agent, but I was told there weren’t many jobs for Latina actresses.”

“And for the audience, you are Puerto Rican and Mexican.”

“Yes. And the roles for girls like me just didn’t exist like they do today—not that there are a lot of roles still.”

“It’s too true. Ten years later, and I can count on my hand the number of times I have seen a Latina in a starring role in mainstream entertainment.”

Josie nods with a solemn look, and I’m sure that her struggle to succeed as a minority, and as a woman, will resonate with our audience.

I turn to Josie as the video plays, and we smile. Oprah couldn’t have done this better. We glue ourselves to the laptop as Josie continues on-screen.

“And how long did you pound the pavement?”

“Over a year. Then one day I saw an ad for a Latina actress in the paper. I walked in, and the waiting area was packed with girls. They give you a number, and I was like number one twenty, and they were on number fifteen. When I stood against the wall waiting, I realized that all the girls looked like me—dark hair and light tan skin. So I ran to a Dominican salon I knew of and had them dye my hair blonde. It took an hour, and it was brassy and weird, but I stood out. When I finally got called to go in, they loved my look. Then they told me it was for a lorno.”

“A lorno?”

“It’s considered erotica because you don’t see private parts other than breasts. It’s usually all moaning and writhing with no penetration.”

“That was your first gig?”

“That was my first gig. And when my mom found out, she kicked me out of the house,” Josie says.

“Oh my God. So the woman you dreamed of providing for with this career abandoned you?” I ask.

“Yes.” Tears well up in Josie’s eyes.

“Where did you go?”

“I quit school altogether and got an apartment so I could focus on working. The money from the lorno didn’t last, and my bartending wasn’t making me rich. So I took another job. This time it was a full-on porno.”

“Were you scared?”

“I was, but the money was really good, and I needed to eat.”

“So you started out just trying to make ends meet and have become one of the most successful adult stars in the industry. How does that make you feel?”

“Being successful feels great, but what I’m successful for is frowned upon. I lost my mother. I’ve lost friends. It’s hard sometimes, but I have to take care of me.”

Josie is candid when she tells me she owes her career to Big Skinny. When they met, she said, she fell instantly in love and thought that he did too. When Big Skinny signed Josie to his company, they set out to conquer the porn industry. And they did, with her at the forefront and him using his connections in hip-hop. Recently, Big Skinny had an idea to bring in more girls for amateur videos.

“I was fine with it. We couldn’t compete having just me in every video. But I found out he was cheating on me with the other girls he signed,” Josie says in disgust. “He built that company off my back and fucked those hos on the side.”

“So you left him.”

“Yes.”

“And leaving him meant leaving porn too, right?”

“Right. Which I tried to do, but I found out that everything I have, my apartment, my car, even my name, is his under the contract that I signed years ago. I worked for ten years and have nothing to show for it.”

Because of her legal constraints, we can’t talk in depth about going to court. She only mentions that she is going to fight to keep what is rightfully hers.

“Let’s say you have left adult entertainment behind. What is next for you?”

“I’ll still pursue acting. Maybe start my own production company. I also might like to direct female-friendly adult films.” She shrugs with a smile. “I don’t know…but I’ll land on my feet.”

“Josie, you are a true Fierce Female. Thanks for being here today.”

“Thanks for having me, Lex.”

The video cuts off, and Josie and I both throw our hands up and roar in celebration. Pride fills me. The interview was raw and powerful—not too edgy but not conservative either. Giggling, we pop a bottle of wine and clink our glasses to toast.

After reviewing and making small edits to the video, I post it. I feel great, like an outlaw who got away scot-free. Lou would never have approved this; he would have been all
the advertisers, the sales team
… Oh shit. The advertisers. I just did an interview with a porn star. Maybe not the smartest move when looking for advertising revenue? I rub my hands over my face.

* * * *

Friday morning, I shuffle, heavy lidded, to my laptop. Josie and I stayed up all night playing video games. I pull up Fierce’s WordPress page to log in, but I’m met with an error message and a sad face. It will cost me, but I call Jim the tech guy, who explains that my server has crashed.

“What? How?” I ask.

“Looks like a lot of activity on the site.” I sit up straight at this information. About forty-five minutes later, Jim reboots me, or whatever, and we are back online. When my stats window pops up, I blink, then blink again.
No way
. My bar chart is trending uphill. It’s the video!

“Josie,” I say, barging into her room. “Josie, your video is a hit. It’s a fucking hit!”

“Huuuuhh? It is?” Her blonde ponytail rises from under a mountain of covers. Her eyes aren’t even open. “Girl, that’s great. The best.” Her head drops back down to the pillow. What am I doing? Porn stars don’t do mornings. My first instinct is to call Evan, but it’s early. Instead I call Tina, who urges me to get on the phone with advertisers.

Bringing up the list she gave me, I take a deep breath and dial the first number.

* * * *

Later, it’s after midnight, and I’m asleep in bed when I become vaguely aware that my phone is ringing. I unearth it from my duvet and see Evan’s picture staring back at me.

“Hey…” I whisper.

“Hi, baby. Did I wake you?” He sounds tired, and I hear voices in the background. He must be at the club.

“Mmmm. I must have nodded off,” I say, my hand grazing the fallen book in my lap. I sit up. “So did you fix up the gallery?”

“Yep. We are replacing all the windows and installing a new security system, but there are a few structural problems with the old warehouse we have to work out. It will be a fortress in a day or two. Then we can start offering field trips to the schools, and Tone wants to start some advanced classes in the back room,” he says, his voice full of excitement.

“That sounds great,” I say.

“Lex, your piece on Tone and Paint the Town got us a lot of interest. We’ve been flooded with new kids, and there are lots of companies that want to donate goods. It’s incredible.”

“Finally, something good has some out of this mess,” I say.

“I can think of another good thing that came of it.”

“What’s that?”

“Us,” he says seductively.

A freight train couldn’t have stopped the smile that spread across my face.

Evan asks me about Fierce, and I tell him about the success of Josie’s video and of my climbing page views. “I got two advertisers today,” I say. “I need to get more so I can get my staff back, but looks like I’ll have some revenue for now.”

“I knew you could do it, baby. We are going to celebrate when I get there tomorrow. I still have a gift from Wolford to unwrap.” The smile in his voice makes me curl around a pillow.

“Evan, do you know if Josie’s restraining order has gone through? Skinny sent her a threatening text the other day. It was pretty scary.”

His voice deepens. “I’ll find out. If it’s not, I’ll make sure it’s pushed through. Don’t worry.”

Funny how just talking to him makes everything better.

“Now,” Evan says, his voice a low drawl. “Are you naked?”

* * * *

I’ve been sleeping for hours, but it feels like only seconds have gone by when Josie busts into my room. My eyelids feel like lead. “What the fuck!” I shout.

“Lex! Ohmygod, Lex! There’s been a shooting at the club!”

With jerky movements, I sit up and try to focus. “What club?” I ask, wondering if she had just come back from one. But my heart is pounding as her words begin to sink in, and fear floods my mind.

“Evan’s club,” she says, breathless. “There’s been a shooting at Evan’s club!”

Chapter Twenty-Three

Josie and I tear through the glass doors of the airport. Even at six a.m. the lines are packed with anxious travelers, and I pray I can get on the next flight out. Clutched tightly in hand, my phone is infuriatingly silent. No calls or text messages have come through, and the news blogs are suggesting that the shooting might not have been random. I glance at my offending phone again and frown. Why isn’t Evan calling me?
Please be okay…

Both of us have tried to call Evan, but his phone is going straight to voice mail. To add to our panic, Jared has been trying to get information from the police with no luck.

“He’s going to be okay. I’m sure he’s okay,” Josie keeps muttering behind me like an annoying song set on loop. Because the restraining order hasn’t gone through yet, Josie is stuck in New York. She came with me to the airport as buddy support, but she’s freaking out. Her hands are frantically waving, and her stilettos are clacking as we search for a departure screen.

“Virgin. Virgin!” Josie yells out in front of the departures screen. Heads turn, and a skinny boy with braces blushes and drops his phone as two teen girls giggle. We bombard a lone TSA agent typing away on a computer behind the counter.