Chapter 2

I sat in my room alone. Danny about threw a fit after I revealed the fact that I knew his favorite porn star. After hounding me with questions for what seemed like hours I told him to leave me alone and stomped into my own room. I laid down on my bed and stared at the ceiling, staring at the pattern up there until I couldn't tell if it was sticking out or indenting in.

I knew she was kind of a "loose" woman, but I had never imagined in my entire life that she would get into something like, that. How do you even get started in that? I mean I don't think anyone grows up saying that they want to grow up to be a porn star. When she was asked that question in elementary school she answered professional wrestler, not hooker. I guess she's doing a different kind of "wrestling" now.

Oh god, the visuals.

I'm not some prude, I mean I've seen porn before, and "stroked the snake," so to speak, but I don't usually think of people I know. Okay, so I've thought of her before while doing it, but not of her with other people, doing what I just saw her doing. Plus the fact that Danny's seen her multiple times, not to mention the millions of other men that have. Or females, I guess, I don't judge.

I haven't been with a ton of girls, so I guess it makes me a little more old fashioned, but I've always thought of sex as a bigger deal than just some one-night-stand. I've always rolled my eyes at the boys that go out on weekends just to "get some" and then never pursue the girl afterwards. I don't know, blame Becky (my older sister) for forcing me to watch chick flicks with her on the weekends when I was young and impressionable, making me feel that activity and cruel and cold-hearted.

I hadn't talked to Spinelli since our fight before I left for college. It's been five years. I know I've changed a bit, and she obviously has. I wonder if she still holds a grudge against me. Surely not, I mean, it's been five years.

I just want to talk to her now. I hadn't even thought of her in at least a year. Small things will catch my eye and I'd think of her and wonder how she was for a little while, but I never tried to contact her. At first I'd been afraid to, then I felt sheepish for not ever contacting her, so I never got around to talking to her.

What would I even say? "Hey, so I saw you in a porn the other day…" Yeah, I'm sure that would go well. Besides what if she's still mad at me, or just mad at me because I haven't talked to her in so long?

What is it about girls that make life so complicated? Technically she kind of is an official slut now, but god forbid I ever bring that up.

Besides, how would I even get a hold of her? I've changed phones so much that I don't even have her number she had way back then, if she even still uses that number. Plus she's blocked me on Facebook, the only other viable way to contact her. I suppose I could somehow get her parent's number, if they still live where they did when I left. And would they even let me get a hold of her if I talked to them?

Do they even know how to get a hold of her? Do they know their daughter is a porn star? If they do, do they still communicate with her? I imagine if Becky ever did that and they found out, that my parents would excommunicate her.

But I want to talk to her so badly now. I rolled over and grabbed my cell phone off my nightstand and called my parents. Crossing my fingers that my mom would know how to contact the Spinellis.


I ignored yet another unknown phone number on my home phone. God, if I have to change my phone number again, the phone people are going to be pissed at me. I don't know how many times I've had to do this, let alone how many times I've had to change where I live, just because of my profession.

I know I should have been aware that the people that watch my videos probably aren't the sanest people ever, but still. Stalking is not cool.

My voicemail picked up the call and I jumped out of my chair to delete the message, so I wouldn't have to listen to some creepy guy breathe heavily into my answering machine.

"Hey…" I tripped over the dog, and tried to get up.

"I hope I have the right number, the answering machine says this is Carla?" Oh god, no. Just gotta make it to the machine before this guy gets creepy.

"But I'm looking for… Spinelli?" The way he said my name. My real name. No one knows my real name. Not even Bob, my manager. It couldn't be. Him.

"It's, uh, T.J." My heart froze. Oh. My. God. I was at the machine now. Staring at it. I snatched the phone and picked it up.

"Hello?" I said into the receiver. Fuck. Why did I pick up?

"Hey, Spinelli?" He replied. I hesitated.

"… Yeah." Shit, I shouldn't have answered the phone. I could have just listened to the message.

"Um… I, uh, just wanted to, uh, you know…" He sounded so weird. "I'm sorry." He said quickly, and then sighed loudly.

I didn't know what to say. I hadn't talked to him in five years. I was so different from what I was then. Immensely different. You're a porn star. My inner self said, and I blushed.

I had forgiven him the night it happened, but I wasn't going to apologize, why should I? I wasn't the one in the wrong. But still, I didn't have to be so stubborn. Five years. Shit.

I realized neither of us had said anything in a while and mumbled some kind of an "Um."

"God, you probably don't even want to talk to me." He muttered.

"No!" I shouted, then slapped myself upside the face. "I mean, no. I… I'm glad you called." I tried to play it cool. I was never cool around Deitwieler.

"Oh, good." He replied, sounding relieved. "I, uh, got your number from your parents. I just… Saw a… Picture of you the other day, and wanted to… talk to you." He said.

Oh, shit. He didn't. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.