Exclusive Contract by Ava Lore

Chapter Four
    “S o here's what I don't get,” Rose was saying on Tuesday morning as I prepared my breakfast. “If Carter Hudson is a rock star, couldn't he get a girlfriend on his own? One that would look after him without having to be paid?”
    The ancient can opener in my hand slipped yet again from the elderly can of Spaghetti-Os I'd found at the back of the pantry. I swore. I would conquer this can. I would destroy it. Or else I'd give up or something.
    Taking a deep breath, I put it down on the counter and tried to compose myself. I was feeling shitty for many reasons, and explaining to Rose what seemed perfectly reasonable last night in a darkened limo with an insanely hot man with whom I'd had the most indecent relations mere hours before was giving me a fresh headache. I chewed on a fingernail for a second, organizing my thoughts. “From what I can tell,” I finally said, “you can't trust people who are already in the industry to do that kind of job because they're all drunkards or hooked on blow. It has to be someone responsible.”
    Rose burst out laughing. “Oh! You, responsible? Oh my god, I'm so sorry. I know, I'm sorry.” She waved a hand as I glared at her and she struggled to get herself under control. “You are definitely more responsible than most actresses. I'm sorry.” She managed to sober, though she couldn't meet my eye. She stared fixedly at the refrigerator instead and took a sip of her coffee. “I know. I suppose. But why girlfriend?”
    I closed my eyes and tried to remember Kent's exact words. “Mr. Hudson said it was... it was because if I was his girlfriend, no one would question me spending all my time with him, and that Carter is trying to get several roles in some teen flicks. Kent seems to think he has real crossover potential, and he wants Carter to clean up his image. He needs to settle down and be less of a drunk drug addict and more of a boy-next-door.”
    “That's all very well and good, except if you care to recall, the boy-next-door back at home was cooking up meth in his kitchen,” Rose reminded me.
    I didn't need her to remind me. It's not every day the house next door gets raided by a SWAT team, and you tend to remember it pretty well when it does. “You know what I mean,” I told her. “Fresh faced. Wholesome. He can't do that if he's dry-humping Perez Hilton's leg at the Grammy's.
    “I would think that sort of thing would get him good press from Hilton.”
    “Yeah, but not from the other twelve reporters standing around.”
    “They're probably just jealous. But fair enough.” She sighed. “Very well. I'll look over the terms of the contract. I don't want you getting screwed. You know this is going to put you front and center, right? You'll be photographed and interviewed and people are going to know exactly who you are.” She sniffed. “I wouldn't be surprised if you got lynched by fans angry that you've stolen away their imaginary man.”
    I winced. I didn't want to be exposed. I definitely didn't want anyone back in San Diego finding me and coming to make trouble. On the other hand, I wasn't any safer with Rose than I would be with Carter. And if I took the job, I'd get to hang around with Kent.
    The thought appealed to me far more than it should have. Kent Hudson was clearly a womanizer and a manwhore. What kind of guy frots a woman he's interviewing for a position in an airplane bathroom? It was almost as if he wasn't entirely professional!
    And what kind of person enthusiastically participates? my brain asked me. I didn't want to know what it thought the answer was. I was feeling bad enough about it already. Honestly. I have enough self-esteem problems. I don't need my brain slut-shaming me, too.
    Besides, it had been exceptionally hot. I'd never done anything like that, and the danger of getting caught, the thrill of the illicit, had definitely helped me get my rocks off faster than ever before. Kent's skilful hands had not hurt at all, either.
    It