Twist of Fate (Taking Chances #2) - Tia Louise Page 0,42
cover. It’s like an old-school Playgirl, except the muscle-bound dude on the front is totally naked. My guess is this publication can only be purchased online or in stores wrapped in brown paper.
“Sorry, man. I’m not really into this kind of thing.” My stomach is tight, and I haven’t forgotten the words Catty said to the casting director.
Now I’m worried.
“I didn’t think you were either, until I got my annual calendar boys issue. It’s their bestseller…” He takes the magazine from my hands and flips to the center. “Mr. December looks like someone we know, don’t you think?”
My throat grows tighter, and I’m not sure I want to look. “Who?”
“How about I show you.” He turns the magazine to face me, and all the strength leaves my body.
It’s me.
I’m the fucking centerfold.
I lower to sit on the couch staring at the photo of me, fully nude, dick erect, with a football elevated over my head. A cheesy caption is stamped across the top. Get your hard on this bowl season with Rammin Rod. He’ll put the spice in…
Closing the cover, I can’t read anymore.
My blood races hot then cold. Something between horror and rage floods my veins, and I’m on my feet. “I’m going to kill that guy.”
Crenshaw calls something after me, but I’m moving too fast to hear, headed to my car.
The bells jangle wildly, and Franco goes behind the counter when I slam through the glass door of Ultimate Sensations photography studio. “My buddy Scout. Back for another session? I can give you a better price this time. My distributor is begging for more—”
“What the fuck did you do?” Heat blazes in my throat, and I close the space between us like a raging bull. “You motherfucker, what the fuck did you do with my pictures?”
“Hang on a minute…” His smile melts to a frown, and he quickly whips out an enormous shotgun from the back corner and levels it on me. “Stop right there.”
I do stop, holding my hands in the air, still breathing hard. “What the fuck have you done to me?”
“Done to you? I don’t know what you’re talking about, man. I didn’t do anything to you.”
“You sold me out to a fucking porn magazine?”
“I got a great price for those pictures. I told you you’re a natural at this.”
Red blazes behind my eyes, and I squeeze them shut as my hands clench into fists. “I’m not a gay porn star!”
“You are now.”
My eyes fly open, and I’m ready to vault the counter and slam him against the wall. The only thing stopping me is the double-barrels aimed at my face.
“I’m hiring a lawyer, and I’m going to sue the fuck out of this place. You’ll never take another photo—”
“Think again, dickweed. This is all on you.”
“What are you talking about?”
“You signed the contract giving me license to use those images however I saw fit. It was part of the deal for the headshots. I can’t help it if you can’t read.”
“I can read.” My jaw clenches so hard I’m afraid I’ll crack my teeth.
“You willingly stood for every photo I took and even suggested some poses.”
Fisting my hands, I glance at the ceiling as I exhale a hot growl. “You said casting directors needed nudes to decide between cut and uncut actors.”
He shrugs tilting his head to the side. “It’s easier than going in and dropping your pants like some guys do.”
“You took advantage of me. You lied to me.”
The trigger on the gun cocks, and he takes a step closer. “I did no such thing. You’re the dumbass who didn’t read the fine print. Now get out of my shop and don’t come around here making trouble. You threaten me again, and I’ll call the cops. I’ll get a restraining order.”
I’m furious and shaking and not sure what to do. Turning on my heel, I leave the studio. Fiery rage burns my chest the whole way back to my apartment.
Luis is outside tossing the ball in the air, but I don’t even smile. I give him a dismissive wave as I take the stairs two at a time before bursting through our door.
“Did you commit murder?” Crenshaw is sitting on the couch smoking a blunt, and I go straight to my room.
“Not yet.” My voice is quiet as I dig out the brown envelope containing the photographs and paperwork from my session with Franco.
Returning to the living room, I slide the papers apart as I scan the multiple paragraphs of information I signed.