Home for the Weekend by Nicole Ryan Page A

briefly.
    “Hi.” I said, sweeping one of my huge curls behind my ear before turning back to my book.
    He sauntered over, one hand tucked into his jeans pocket, pinching the cigarette between his thumb and index finger, one eye squinted, and I couldn’t help but snicker.
    “What?” He asked exhaling his smoke, one side of his mouth turning into a smile.
    “Nothing.” I said. Who is he Johnny Cash or something? I thought to myself, shaking my head and fighting the urge to roll my eyes.
    “What are you reading?” He ask ed, stepping closer to me and his fresh cologne wafted over in the breeze.
    “Anne Rice.” I replied, dragging on my slim and French inhaling quickly.
    “What is that ?” He asked, laughing.
    “She’s a writer, one of my favorites.” I replied dryly.
    “No, I know who Anne Rice is.” He laughed. “I meant what are you smoking?” He motioned to my hand and I noticed a sprinkling of dark hair on his arms.
    I looked at my little slim, “It’s a cigarette.” I said.
    “You could have fooled me.” He kidded.
    When I didn’t reply he stepped right beside me, and placed his forearms on the concrete slab that enclosed the balcony. “You know, this will all be a lot easier if you let me try to be nice.” He said softly looking down while scuffing the tip of his shoe on the wall, and I whipped my head to face him.
    “Oh God, I’m sorry, I don’t mean to be a bitch, I’m just…”
    “Nervous.” He said, taking a deep pull from his Marlboro and gazing out at the freeway. He had an attractive profile, and long eyelashes.
    “I’ve never done a video shoot before.” I said , exiting my book and tucking my Kindle back into my coat.
    “I know.” He said, turning his eyes to me and smiling kindly.
    He was handsome, in a non-male-porn-star kind of way. He didn’t have huge bulging muscles, or a super fake tan. He was more the bad boy type than the all star athlete type. He was the guy in high school who picked you up on a motorcycle that he built in his garage with his father. I half expected to look down at the street and see one parked out there.
    “How does everyone know this?” I asked, more to myself than him. “Jerry is going to get it.” I said, lighting my second slim and laughing bitterly.
    “I don’t know any Jerry, but I do know that you’re Chaste Meridian, you came to LA for college, and after you got your degree you decided to stay and do erotic modeling, and everyone has been trying to get you to do films for the last year, since your bondage shoot for Peril Girls .” He said, his greenish blue eyes glittered at me, his full lips pulled into an attractive smirk as my brow furrowed, how’d he know so much about me?
    “ I looked you up.” He said almost guiltily and then winked and added, “But I’d seen you before, you came to the Adult Filmography Awards for the Peril shoot and I saw you with Anessa Vixen signing autographs at a booth.”
    I heard commotion behind me and turned to look into the large open room through the sliding glass door. There was an entire team of men, and a couple women setting up lights.
    I opened my mouth to say something but my words were caught, and a sudden attack of nerves washed over me again. I imagined having sex with this stranger in front of all these other strangers, and while it had excited me earlier, I was now filled with trepidation. I should have asked Anessa to come with me. I thought.
    “What…” I swallowed, and forced myself to pull my eyes away from the apartment. “What’s your name?” I asked , turning back to him.
    “ Jesse.” He said easily glancing at the people behind us. I raised an eyebrow, I was hoping for his real name.
    “You don’t get nervous do you Jesse?” I laughed, but it sounded more agonizing than anything.
    “No . Why, are you nervous?” He propped his forearms on the concrete and leaned over it before he turned and raised an eyebrow at me.
    “Look, could you maybe, I don’t know, tell