And then I freeze because I’m equally drawn to each of the areas listed. Science? Love it. Architecture? I’m game. Nursing? My parents are doulas—I’ve been raised to be a caretaker. Film? That’s totally what I’m working in now—if porn counts, that is, and it does in my book. So how the hell am I supposed to pick just one career path when I can’t even narrow it down to a single course of study?
I shut my laptop in a panic, but perk up when I hear my phone buzzing on the kitchen counter where I left it after dinner. Hoping the message is from Logan, I hurry over to check and respond.
But it’s not Logan, and it’s not a text. It’s a phone call and the caller ID says it’s one of the producers I met at Vida’s party—LaRue Hagen.
LaRue Hagen isn’t someone I’d usually take a call from. He works for Sinner’s Playpen, a hardcore heterosexual porn site, not my scene. But since my parents’ tarot reading suggested I be more open to new opportunities, however, I gave him my number.
As I answer, I pray that I’m not wasting my time.
“Devi Dare. I’m so glad to finally get you on the phone,” LaRue says, as though he’s been trying to reach me for days and not just for three rings. “Got a minute to talk?”
“I have exactly that,” I say, though I have no plans for the evening. “So I hope you have your pitch prepared.”
“Damn. A woman who plays hardball. I like it.” LaRue hasn’t been around as long as some of the old-school producers, but he’s not a newbie either. He’s an astute businessman who has also managed to stay innovative and politically correct. If I did decide to venture further into the world of porn, he’s one of the few producers I’d trust.
“Fortunately,” he says smoothly, “I do have my pitch prepared because it’s not a pitch, but fact. We at Sinner’s Playpen have watched your career in girl-girl porn take off over the last several months. If you think no one was noticing, you’re wrong. We sincerely believe that if you crossed over into traditional heterosexual porn, ‘P in V’ so to speak, you’d take the world by storm.”
I stifle a stunned laugh. I am pleased with my rise in the industry over the last year, but this guy is blowing things out of proportion. My paychecks certainly don’t reflect someone whose career has “taken off.”
Though models and lesbian porn stars don’t make much money even when they are successful.
I shift my weight from one foot to the other. “That’s awfully presumptuous, don’t you think, Mr. Hagen?”
“It’s LaRue. And not presumptuous—perceptive. I’ve been in this biz for a decade, Devi. I’ve watched many a star rise and fall, and, trust me, I know what kind of trajectory your career is going to take from here.”
I lean against the doorframe of my galley kitchen. “I’m flattered, LaRue. I’ve also got to be honest with you—though I’m currently entertaining the possibility of doing some light heterosexual porn, I’d still like the majority of my work to be girl-on-girl. I’m definitely not looking to be a star.”
“No one’s ever looking to be a star.”
The image of The Star from my parents’ tarot deck flashes in my mind then disappears. It renders me momentarily speechless.
LaRue steps into the silence. “Tell you what—our site is limited on the femme porn, but I think I can line up a few jobs for you.”
I’m skeptical. “Why would you do that?” I don’t want to be obliged to work for him in the future just because he’s hooking me up now.
“Because, Devi Dare, whether you’re ready or not, you’re going to cross over into harder scenes. We want to be there when you do.”
What if it’s true? What if I am destined to be the next Jenna Jameson or Tori Black? Is that the direction the proverbial wheel of fortune is taking me?
Not wanting to rule out any path that might take me to a better life, I give LaRue my agent’s information and agree to do a femme shoot with Sinner’s Playpen in the next few weeks.
It buys me time to think about his other offer—the one that could be the solution to all my money problems if I just make that final step. I’m not even sure what’s holding me back. My parents would support me, and I don’t really have anything against fucking with strangers.
Just.
If I decide to really commit to this career, the chances of ever going back to school diminish significantly. And though I still don’t have any idea what to major in, I’m not ready to decide that I’ll never finish my degree.
But with bills looming I may have to decide something soon.
I desperately long to talk to someone about my options, someone else in the industry. Another actor or actress maybe. The only person I can think of to reach out to is Logan.
I unlock the screen that has gone dark in the last several seconds and type out a text: Need advice. Are you free?
Just as I’m about to send it, though, I have second thoughts. We really aren’t close enough to delve into career discussions, certainly not over text.
Regardless, he’s the only one I want to talk to, period.
I delete the words and instead send: Do you believe that God/a higher power/the universe answers prayers/bequests/needs through porn/smut/erotic modeling?
It’s the first time I’ve initiated the conversation, and my heart flutters when his response is nearly immediate. Devi, the answer is always porn.
I laugh, and though nothing is solved or decided, I feel better. I don’t have to make any firm plans right now anyway. LaRue will throw me some light work, and if that doesn’t bring in enough money, I have options.