Page 30 of Saving Ian Pope

I hovered over my friend’s shoulder, as Chole’s fingers flew across the keyboard, clicking, tapping, snipping at lightning speed. “Ah-ha!” Chloe jabbed a finger at the screen. “This particular...member...belongs to one Duke Hammer, two-time AVN award winner for best actor in a feature film.”

Ian glanced up from his laptop. “AVN?”

Chloe’s mouth dropped open. “You’ve never watched the AVNs? They’re the porn Oscars. And you call yourself a bad boy.”

“Must be an American thing.” Ian shrugged.

“I’ve never watched them.” I bumped Chloe’s knee with mine. “You’ve never watched them.”

“Just fuckin’ with you, but it does stand for Adult Video News, and they hand out awards, just like any other self-serving industry.”

Rubbing my hands together, I said, “That’s perfect. It’s the same pose and everything, Ian. Do you want to see it?”

He held up a hand. “I think I’ve seen enough dicks for today, thanks.”

“Is that even possible?” Chloe widened her pale blue eyes, framed with her fake black lashes, and we laughed until tears streamed down our faces.

Ian shook his head. “Now that you’ve identified the owner, what next?”

“What next, you say.” Chloe laced her fingers and cracked her knuckles. “Now we create several fake social media accounts—don’t worry; I know how to make them appear legit with posts and friends and followers. A few of these accounts will start posting about how gullible people are. Don’t they know this is a famous picture of the incomparable Duke Hammer. How could anyone possibly believe this is Ian Pope’s dick. In fact, Ian Pope is rumored to be quite average in that department.”

“Whoa, whoa.” Ian sat up abruptly, almost upending his laptop. “You don’t have to go overboard.”

“Ah!” I grabbed a throw pillow and whacked Chloe on the head. “That isnottrue. While Ian won’t be winning any AVNs anytime, soon, we hope, he isanythingbut average-sized.”

“Thanks, Tink.” Ian threw me a kiss.

Chloe stuck her fingers in her mouth. “You two are sickening. I’m just kidding about that last part, but not the first part. This is how we start a reverse PR campaign. Soon enough, Ian’s fans will pick up on this narrative and push back.”

“You’re a genius.” I grabbed Chloe’s face and kissed the side of her head.

“Joking aside, I really appreciate this, Chloe. It sounds like a lot of work. Send my accountant an invoice like you would any other client.”

“I don’t need to be paid. I will do this out of the goodness of my heart and because you make my bestie happy.” She tapped her chest twice. “I just ask for one thing in return.”

“Name it.”

“Treat my girlie right and don’t fuck up.”

Chapter 11

IAN

I returned from my run at the beach and let myself into Ivy’s place with the key she’d entrusted to me. She and Chloe had gone out this morning to help a friend move. They’d left behind them the rich aroma of coffee and the sweet scent of flowers from a colorful bunch in a vase in the middle of the kitchen table, set for my breakfast. Ivy had a surprising bent for domesticity, for making me comfortable in her home.

I'd undergone too much therapy to view her compulsion as anything other than a reaction to not having her own mother growing up. Ivy had either been the one to provide the housekeeping or she’d never had that domesticity at all and was trying to create it now. Either way, I wasn’t complaining.

I sat down at the table where Ivy had left the breakfast, she’d insisted on making for me every morning. I crunched into the avocado toast as I poured hot water from the electric kettle over the teabag in my cup. I could get used to this, but I couldn’t stop time. I had less than a week left in LA. I wanted her to come to England with me, but we’d only danced around the subject.

As I sipped my smoothie, the strawberries sweet on my tongue, I scrolled through my phone, the weight that had been on my shoulders lessening with each new defense of me on social media. Chloe had been spot on. Once her fake accounts started posting about the Duke Hammer connection, everyone jumped on that bandwagon and attacked anyone who dared suggest that I had taken and sent those pictures.

While I was basking in this unaccustomed win, my phone rang, and my manager’s name popped up. “Alright, Jack.”

Jack got right to the point. “Looks like we avoided fallout from those picturesandgenerated a little buzz. I was brainstorming how to get you out of this, and it looks like your fans took care of it.”

“We took care of it, here in LA.” I licked a smudge of avocado from my finger.

“What does that mean? Who took care of it?” Jack’s voice tended to go up a few octaves when he was nervous, which was most of the time.

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