Chapter 37 – Loose Screw

The first thing Chloe noticed was the unpleasant throbbing of a nasty hangover. The second was Steve’s arm across her waist.

She squinted into the gray morning light seeping through the dirty windows. It smelled of sex and stale alcohol and she probably needed to take her bedding to the laundromat soon. Steve snored quietly beside her. Every breath tickled her neck.

For a brief moment, she just lay there and let the feeling of body heat and human closeness wash over her. It was almost scary how good it felt not to wake up alone.

Then she realized that her cell phone was vibrating and that it was probably what had woken her up.

She fumbled around on the nightstand and stared at the display. Ben Ziegler.

Who else.

She answered hoarsely. “Hello?”

“Sunshine!” She grimaced. Ben’s voice was much too loud and cheerful. “Did I wake you up? I’m sorry, really, but this couldn’t wait.”

He didn’t sound sorry at all.

“It’s okay.” She sat up slowly, careful not to wake Steve. “What’s up?”

“Lucia DeVries from Dark Desire wants to book you for tomorrow. She’s Virgil’s wife, from the party. Remember?”

Chloe shook her head and squinted her eyes, trying to dispel the pain and remember.

Ben had mentioned her before. She was the woman who had spread rumors that Samantha was a racist after Samantha refused to shoot for her. A PR nightmare, Ben had said over dinner. One of Samantha’s many conflicts in the industry.

“I’m in,” she said.

A short pause on the other end. “Wow, Sunshine, that was quick. Don’t you want to know how much you’re getting paid and who you have to do it with first?”

“How much will I get paid and who will I have to do it with?”

Ben laughed his oily laugh. “A thousand, standard rate. And I don’t know who’s the lucky guy yet, Lucia wasn’t sure, but either DaShawn McDaniel or John D. Young. The pay is solid and Dark Desires has good production values and a large audience. It would be good for your brand.”

“Understood. Like I said, I’m in.”

“I’ll send you the details. Tomorrow afternoon, four o’clock.”

He hung up, and Chloe fell back into bed.

“Who was that?” Steve had opened his eyes and was blinking sleepily at her.

“Ben, my agent. Dark Desires booked me for tomorrow.”

“Oh.” Steve sat up and ran his fingers through his tousled hair. “Wow, Dark Desires, cool. They’re pretty big.” He grinned crookedly. “Never shot for them myself, for obvious reasons.”

Right. Dark Desires worked exclusively with black male performers.

“Lucia DeVries is directing, right?” Steve scratched his chin. “She’s… interesting. Pretty peculiar. I saw her once at Madeline Stokes’ birthday party, and she was wearing something that looked like a circus tent. Madeline said it was called a banyan, whatever that is.”

“I wonder what she’ll be wearing tomorrow.”

There was a brief silence. Steve seemed to be struggling with himself, then he got up and gathered his clothes from the floor. No questions about when they would see each other again, or what this meant for them.

Very grown-up. He’s making progress.

She watched him get dressed, and when he was done, he paused for a moment at the edge of the bed.

“It was nice. Get in touch sometime, okay?”

“I thought so too. I will.”

He leaned over and kissed her on the forehead. Then he was gone, and the door closed quietly behind him.

Chloe was left alone.

She stared at the ceiling and went over all the information she had. Samantha had refused to shoot interracial scenes, calling the whole thing race play. Lucia had then gone around telling everyone that Samantha was racist. It was a nasty dispute that had damaged Samantha’s reputation.

Someone who reacted so vindictively was definitely worth a closer look.

Maybe I’ll find something out.

And even if not, Dark Desires was another step in her career. High production values, good reputation, and wide reach, Ben had said.

She swung her legs out of bed with a sigh and ignored the throbbing in her skull as she made herself a coffee.

~

The Dark Desires studio was located in a renovated warehouse in the southwest of the Hub, wedged between a used car dealership and a somewhat run-down office building. From the outside, it looked like any other industrial building in the area, with the Dark Desires signs affixed relatively discreetly.

The reception area was small but clean, with a modern reception desk. The guy manning the front desk waved her through with a friendly but wordless gesture, as he was busy eating an enormous Philly cheesesteak.

The main area of the studio, on the other hand, was a well-organized film production facility. Not quite as impressive as Dirty Dreams with its glass facades, marble floors, and high-end technology, but definitely professional.

A woman in her forties with a makeup belt around her womanly hips approached her with a smile.

“You must be Chloe! I’m Marla, I do makeup and wardrobe.” She shook Chloe’s hand with a firm, friendly grip.

The dressing room was a small space with a lighted mirror and several racks full of clothes and lingerie in various colors. Marla pointed to a chair in front of the mirror.

“Sit down. Coffee? Water?”

“Water would be great.”

As Marla handed her a bottle, she looked at Chloe in the mirror. “This is your first time with us, are you excited?”

“Yes, a little.”

“Lucia can be a little intimidating.” Marla raised her eyebrows and grinned conspiratorially. “Some people think she’s a little crazy. But she knows her stuff when it comes to filmmaking, you’ll see.”

Chloe nodded and tried to ignore the slight tension that was spreading through her.

Marla seemed to notice it anyway. “Hey, relax. You’ll be fine. I heard you got five EVA nominations? That’s definitely no coincidence. If a girl gets that many nominations in her first year, she’s got what it takes. I think Keisha Kross had six in her first year… or was it seven? Well, it doesn’t matter, I mean, look where she is now!”

“Thanks.” Chloe forced a smile.

After makeup, Marla helped her into her lingerie for the shoot. Black lace, suspenders, garters, the whole shebang. When Chloe looked at herself in the mirror, Marla whistled softly.

“Girl, you’re in damn good shape.” It sounded sincere, not like the usual sleazy industry compliment. “What’s your secret? How do you work out?”

“Mainly yoga.” Chloe tugged at a strap. “And I used to run a lot before I came to Valley City.”

“Track?”

“Yeah, in high school.”

“You can tell.” Marla handed her a pair of jeans and a simple white top. “Here, put this on for the intro scenes.”

Chloe slipped into the clothes, grateful for the extra layer of clothing between herself and the world, at least for the moment.

Marla took a step back to admire her work. “You look fantastic, sweetie.”

“Thanks, Marla.”

“Lucia should be here any minute-“

The door opened without a knock.

The woman entering was not what Chloe had expected. Lucia DeVries was in her late thirties, half a head taller than Chloe, with a thin, almost athletic body and small breasts under a black sleeveless turtleneck sweater. It was obvious she wasn’t wearing a bra. Her skin was unusually pale for someone who lived in Valley City, where the sun beat down practically all year round. Her platinum blonde hair was cut short in a pixie cut that accentuated her angular face, which was dominated by large black horn-rimmed glasses. She wore loose black harem pants and wooden Japanese geta sandals without socks.

What an outfit.

As Lucia got closer, Chloe’s gaze fell on a small tattoo on her ankle. An ace of spades. No, not an ace, but a queen. The Queen of Spades.

Interesting.

Lucia looked at Chloe with an expression that was somewhere between bored and slightly annoyed. No smile. Not even the attempt of a smile. It was as if she didn’t know that fake friendliness was simply part of the job for everyone else in this industry.

“You’re Chloe.” It wasn’t a question.

“Yes, hi! I’m so-“

“Virgil told me to book you.” Lucia crossed her arms over her chest. “And of course I heard about the nominations. Wanted to see what all the fuss was about.”

Marla had discreetly withdrawn into the background and was demonstratively putting away makeup brushes. Smart woman.

“I asked Virgil if he wanted to fuck you,” Lucia continued, as casually as if she were talking about the weather. “He said he wouldn’t mind. But he also said you’d looked at some of my old stuff.”

Chloe blinked.

What the hell?

She needed a moment to collect herself. Then she remembered the conversation with Virgil at the party, and his surprised look when she mentioned Lucia’s old movie.

“Yes, I saw ‘Symmetry of Lace,'” she said. “I really liked the play of light and shadow and reflections, and I liked the blowjob scene filmed from behind, where you couldn’t actually see anything, but it was still totally hot.”

Something changed in Lucia’s face. Not much, the woman seemed physically incapable of smiling, but her eyes seemed a touch less unfriendly.

“Most people in the industry have never seen that,” she said. “Surprising. You don’t exactly look like a cineaste.”

Well, thanks a lot.

Before Chloe could respond, Lucia asked the next question. Just as abruptly as everything else.

“Have you ever fucked a black guy?”

Chloe stared at her.

In the background, Marla had stopped pretending to tidy up and was now completely silent.

“No,” Chloe said after a moment. It was the truth.

Lucia scrunched her eyebrows. Behind her large glasses, her gaze was piercing, probing.

The silence became uncomfortable.

Okay, this is weird. Say something.

“Ask me again in an hour?” Chloe tried to grin.

Nothing. Lucia didn’t react. Not even a twitch at the corners of her mouth. The attempt at a joke had completely failed.

“Is there a reason?” Lucia didn’t let up. “Do you have something against black men?”

What the-

Chloe felt something tighten in her chest. I wasn’t fear, more confusion and a burgeoning feeling of anger, which she quickly suppressed.

“No.” She held Lucia’s gaze. “It just never happened. I’m from a small town in rural California. There aren’t many black men there.” She shrugged. “And I’m here, right? I wouldn’t have taken the job if I had a problem with it.”

Lucia looked at her for a moment longer. Then she nodded once, briefly and sharply.

“Good.”

That seemed to settle the matter for her. She turned and walked to the door, her Geta sandals clattering softly on the floor.

“We start in ten minutes. DaShawn is already on set.”

And she was gone.

Chloe stared at the closed door.

What the hell was that?

Marla cleared her throat awkwardly with an apologetic smile on her face. “Like I said, she can be a little… well.”

“Yeah.” Chloe nodded slowly. “I understand.”

But she didn’t really.

This woman was different from anyone else Chloe had met in this industry so far. No false warmth, no marketing spiel, which wasn’t bad per se, but instead this strange, almost aggressive directness. As if someone had forgotten to teach her how to talk to people normally.

And that paranoid, defensive question.

“Have you ever fucked a black guy?”

Someone who reacts so paranoid, who was so defensive about the content they produced, about their fetish, would someone like that perhaps be triggered by a rejection like Samantha’s?

Someone who was so confrontational and so quick to attack others, could someone like that also be vindictive? Beyond what is reasonable?

Chloe didn’t know. Not yet.

But she now had a better picture of Lucia DeVries. A woman who didn’t play games because she apparently didn’t know how, who defended her “art” with almost fanatical intensity, and who counterattacked at the first hint of criticism.

Definitely unpleasant. But a murderer? Who knows.

She would keep her eyes open.

“Chloe?” Marla gently placed a hand on her shoulder. “Are you okay? You look like you’ve seen a ghost.”

Chloe forced a smile. The Chloe Heart smile.

“Everything’s fine. Just surprised, that’s all.”

“Lucia has that effect on people.” Marla patted her arm encouragingly. “But once the camera’s rolling, she’s a genius, believe me!”

Can’t wait.