Page 54 of Handsome Devil
Was he seriously looking for the sex tape?
And what if, God forbid, he found it?
Yeah, so I’d looked for it. A little. Unsuccessfully. Even if I’d found it, though, there was no way I could really watch it.
But… was there really any way I couldnotwatch it?
Urgh.
Stop thinking about it.
I had way too much work to do to be thinking about some revolting sex tape.
For one, I had a photo shoot to plan. I still needed to decide which of our new talent was getting precious time in the studio with my photographer friend, Shana, while she was in town from L.A. next week. I really needed to attack this and get it scheduled; I wanted to have it done yesterday, but then the devil rolled into town and everything went to hell.
I sat down at my desk and dug through some of my model comps and headshots. I spread some of my new faces and emerging talent across the desk. We had all their portfolios online, of course, but I loved the glossy photos. I loved the way they felt under my fingers. I loved stashing them in file folders and carrying them around town in my oversized tote, flipping through them over sangria with the girls or lounging on my couch at night.
Faces had always been a thing for me. I had the eye to be a photographer, maybe. But what I really loved was connecting people. Scouting. Hiring. Casting. Matching the right face with the right campaign.
I prided myself on being a great connector.
So why was nothing jumping out at me? Where was my mojo right now?
I glanced at the clock on my wall. Why was this day already the longest workday in history, and why couldn’t I get into my work?
My eyes snagged on a small image on the corkboard next to my desk. Amongst a collage of tear sheets and career highlights, there was a still image of Katie and Jesse in the “Dirty Like Me” music video. Nowtherewas a connection.
Maybe I should’ve just been a matchmaker.
I wondered if that paid better.
I opened up the notes app on my computer and started typing.Potential backup careers. 1. Matchmaker. 2. Personal shopper. 3. Lawyer?
Damn, I’d make a good lawyer. I could argue a case like nobody’s business. One of my brothers was a lawyer. Maybe his firm was hiring?
Was it too late to go to university and get the ball rolling on a law career?
Shit, what was I doing?
Was I really letting Dane Davenport get under my skin? Make me anxious about losing my job?
My phone jingled and I glanced at the screen.
Chaz:I can’t find him on Instagram or TikTok.
Chaz:You think he has a Snapchat account under a fake name?
Jesus. Now he was stalking Dane Davenport on social media? Searching for hot mirror selfies?
Well, at least maybe that meant he’d given up on finding the sex tape.
Chaz:Maybe we could get him to do a camera test for us. You know… pants optional. (Drooling emoji.)
I made an annoyed sound and flicked my phone aside.
Give it a rest.
The man was not model material. Spank bank material, sure. But these two things, as I often tried to explain to Chaz, were not always one and the same.
