Page 68 of The Sun and Her Star

“Here’s my card. Call me on Monday. I’d like to talk to you about representation.”

I glance at Dave who’s nodding vigorously at me, and I take the card.

“Sure, thanks. Nice to meet you.” I glance at Milly. “Well, sort of.” And we all laugh as Dave and I head to the table where Reece and Omar are waiting.

“Who the fuck is that? Why did he give me his card?” I ask Dave as soon as we’re out of earshot of their table.

“Dude, you should be thanking me, that’s only the best talent agent in the country.”

“Why aren’t you working with him, then?”

“He wouldn’t take me on as a client. Said he needed clients who would take his advice and he didn’t think that was me. I’m glad. He’s a hard-ass. Margaux’s lazy as fuck,” he says about his agent with a shrug. “I am, too, so it works. I think you should work with him. If he’s interested in talking to you, then you better jump on that. He’s got the Midas touch when it comes to endorsements and shit. You’re like disciplined as fuck. You’re totally wasting your life working for Nanette on this personal trainer to the stars bullshit. Look how people react to you, Graham. You could befamous. Like, for real. Not just Instagram famous, but like on tv or something. And if anyone can do it for you, it’s him.”

He jerks his thumb over his shoulder in Dean’s direction.

I get calls from “agents” all the time. I’d gotten all sorts of offers since I started showing up on red carpets and shit. So far, they’d all been offers to do porn.

“Sure, I’ll call him,” I say noncommittally. I have no plans to do that. I’ve had enoughoffersto last me a lifetime.

* * *

“Oh, yes. You sexy motherfucker. I’m so close.”

I look down at the bare back of the woman who currently thrusting backward on my cock. She’s moaning and calling my name, and every time I hear it pass her lips, I have to remind myself that this is how I pay for the treatment my mother’s receiving. The treatment that’s working.

This client, Angelina, at least that’s what she said her name is, is one of my regulars. She fucks at least two of Nanette’s other “trainers” and she only comes to me when she’s in the mood to be fucked really hard.

Because, lately, that’s all I can do.

When I’m fucking these women—some of them older than my mother—making them feel good, pretending that I loved being with them, I resent my entire existence.

The nice car, the polo membership, all of the things I used to think would make up at least in part for everything else I’d given up don’t mean a thing to me.

The worst part of it all was that Nanette demanded her pound of flesh.

I hated that more than anything.

But with her taking fifty percent and my mother needing to be in a facility because she needs round-the-clock care, I don’t know how to stop.

“Grab my hair, Greg,” Angelina screeches and I fist a hand in her hair and thank God for the Viagra I took because there’s no way in the world I would have been able to get it up for her today. I’m glad she can’t remember my name. I think hearing it from her now might make me sick.

The creak of the hotel door behind me sends a shot of panic through my body. These rooms are always reserved by the client. I pull out of her and cover myself with one of the pillows as a short, balding man who looks to be in his early sixties, dressed in an immaculate gray suit, walks in.

“Who the fuck are you?” I demand, approaching him with the intent to throw him the fuck out.

“Oh, it’s okay. He’s my sugar daddy. He just wanted to watch. Since he can’t do it himself,” Angelina drawls.

I look down at the bed. She’s rolled over onto her back, and she’s grinning at us from the bed. She’s rubbing her clit and licking her lips.

“I didn’t think you’d mind. Nanette said you’d want the extra money we paid for it.”

“I do fucking mind.” I drop the pillow and try to shove my still hard cock into my jeans.

“Oh no … don’t do that,” she says as she comes up to her knees. She looks at the man who’s standing watching me, and says, “William, get on your knees and suck him off, now.” The man, who sports a gold wedding band and looks like he’s some sort of corporate executive does exactly as she asks and drops to his knees in front of me, his hand reaching for my fly before I slap them away.

“Hey … get your fucking hands off me. I amnotdoing this shit,” I tell her.

“Why not? If you close your eyes, you can pretend it’s my mouth,” she says, smiling lewdly as she watches us expectantly.

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