Stories From The 6 Train 1(221)

"We also have those twins… Bella and Ella… that could make for some interesting video shots and story lines," Joel chimes in. "That's every guy's fantasy, isn't it?"

"The two brunettes? Speak for yourself. You think just because they're twins with big tits that they'd be perfect for Illicit Entertainment? That they're star material? Please. Give me a fucking break. They're boring. They're predictable," I yawn.

"What's with you this week?" Cheryl asks. "You're acting different."

"Because I give a shit about who's cast this month? There's nothing fucking different about me. Illicit Entertainment is my brainchild. Can you blame me for wanting to make sure we cast a real star this month? We have a lot fucking riding on our new technology. We've sunk millions into it. We're taking this company into the next fucking century and beyond—now's not the time to take our foot off the gas pedal."

This seems to make sense to her—or maybe she's still wrapping her head around it all—but she shrugs her shoulders. She looks back at her clipboard and reads through the audition list again.

"OK, so does this mean that women numbers 25 and 27—Ella and Bella—are out?" Cheryl asks.

"Why can't we just bring on all three?" Joel suggests. He clearly doesn't want to let those girls go.

I sigh and continue to make my case. "Of course it means they're out, Cheryl. And Joel, if this were simply about bringing on more women—sure, we could hire all three. Hell, we could hire a thousand in the next hour! But let's remember what we set out to do with this audition. Are you forgetting? The point was to find the industry's next big star—a super star for our new platform! And a star isn't predictable. She has an almost ethereal quality that hooks you in. Do you understand what I'm saying here? She carries a unique, dynamic draw. She's sexy, but confident. She's the woman who's just beyond your reach."

"Ok, we get it," Joel says. "She needs to be some creature of almost mythical status."

"No, that's not it," I continue. "It's real simple. This next star needs to be Brittney. She showed us that she had it all during her audition. The smoking hot body. The penetrating gaze. The fucking attitude. It's the don't-fuck-with-me attitude. She was a woman on a mission, and we can fulfill that mission. Look—let's hire her. You'll see what kind of porn-star material that she is. And you'll feel ridiculous for ever doubting me."

Joel nods at me in agreement, but Cheryl doesn't seem totally convinced yet.

"Why was she so laser focused on you, Ethan?" Cheryl says. "Doesn't that seem odd?"

"Cheryl, you're overanalyzing this," I say. "It's not fucking odd at all. This is a porn audition we're talking about. She did what she needed to do."

"Okay, I trust you," Cheryl nods.

I'm glad they finally agree, but do they really have a choice? Not if they still want their jobs. It's nice to have them on the same page, but at the end of the day, I don't need their approval. I look down at my Apple watch. Not only has it been buzzing non-stop with emails from the press regarding Illicit Escape announcement—it seems everyone and their mother wants to give it a whirl—but my watch also shows me that it's 11:05. I'm five minutes late to my next meeting.

"You'll have to excuse me," I say. I push my chair back and stand up. I fix my suit coat and straighten my silk tie. "This has been productive, don't you think? It's going to be a great month."

I walk out the door and continue down the hall when I feel the presence of someone behind me. I can hear what sounds like a woman's heels clicking against the hard floor. I turn around and see Cheryl. She stops, and for a wordless moment, looks at me with her hands on her hips, and her lips scrunched. I haven't seen her strike this kind of pose in a while.

"Do you have something you need to say to me?" she asks. I can practically see her shoe tapping against the floor in irritation.

"What's that supposed to mean?" I ask.

"Come on Ethan. I've known you forever," she says with a look of exasperation. It's a look that says she didn't believe a word I said during our meeting.

"I really don't know what you're talking about," I maintain with a shrug. "Does this have anything to do with our meeting just now? Because everything is fine. I mean it. You have to believe me Cher—"

"You better watch yourself," she says, cutting me off. Her brows are knitted in seriousness. It reminds me of an angry caterpillar.

"Now you're acting like the crazy one," I say, throwing my hands up. "I mean come on. Do you even hear yourself right now? I don't know what kind of story you've been spinning in your head, but—"