Page 35 of Rastor

"A sequel? Chloe said. "You're kidding,"

"Only half," I said. "Because Brandy's not stupid. She knows damn well I'm not gonna fall for some secret camera thing again. But she still could use the publicity, right? So she gets half-naked and corners me."

Chloe shook her head. "Youdidsay this was in themen'sroom, right?"

"Yeah. And as soon as I see her, I take off. But she follows after me, making this big scene. And from what she's yelling, it sounds like we just did it right there in the stall."

In my mind, I could still hear Brandy screaming as the crowd grew thick around us."You asshole! What do you think I am? Your personal cum dumpster? Well next time you want a quickie, call someone else, because I'm not your plaything!"

Her skirt was crooked, and one of her boobs was hanging out of her open blouse. Her lipstick was smudged, and her eyes were filled with big, fake tears.

As for me, I'd been fully clothed, which, the way the tabloids saw it, just made me a bigger asshole. Like I'd unzipped my fly and stuck it to her fast and hard.

"So I get the hell out of there," I continued, "and she's following after me, acting like I'd just done the wham-bam-thank-you-ma'am. And I see all these photographers."

"She set you up?" Chloe asked.

"Yeah. Did a good job of it too. Even hired these bouncers to keep me from leaving. She wanted a full spectacle."

"Boy, she sure got it," Chloe said. "How come you never told anyone?"

"I did. I said flat-out that none of it happened. You thinkthatgot any coverage? Besides, you think anyone gives a crap?"

"They might've," Chloe said, "if you had told the whole story."

"You think anyone wants the whole story?" I tried to laugh. "Besides, she did me a big favor, right? Right after that sex tape hit, I was signed to that reality show."

The show,Hard World,had changed everything, mostly becauseIhad changed. By then, I'd become a different person, especially when it came to sex. As far as the female cast-members, I'd had them all, and had fun doing it, or at least that’s what I told myself at the time.

Chloe was frowning. "About that show, was any of that true?"

"Which part?"

"You." She cleared her throat. "And all those girls?"

Chloe's question hung in the open air. And damn it, I didn't want to answer.

Basically, I'd screwed my way from one end of the house to the other, sometimes tapping two girls in a single night. They meant nothing to me. They were Brandy clones, each and every one of them, wanting quick fame and easy money.

I frowned. Or maybe it was too convenient for me to see them that way. The fun – if you could call it that – ended after some redhead named Macey threw another girl out a plate glass window.

The girl, an aspiring actress named Cookie of all things, needed fifteen stitches across her forehead and countless more on her arms and legs. The publicity was insane, but the show was over – cancelled, according to news reports.

Cancelled, my ass. I'd walked out and refused to return. As far as the producers? Rather than admit they'd lost the guy who had people tuning in, they'd quietly succumbed to "bad publicity", so they'd "cancelled for the safety of their amazing cast."

I could still remember that press release. What a joke.

Chloe was still waiting for my answer. Was any of it true?

I wasn't going to lie. "Yeah."

Disappointment darkened her features. "Oh."

"You've gotta understand," I said, "everywhere I looked, someone wanted something from me. I guess I was pissed off, maybe a little tired of fighting it." I squeezed her hand. "Until you."

"Why me?"

"What do you mean?"