Exiting Davis, Stein & Hartman Design Studio, Aurie steps out onto the sidewalk in the mid-morning sunshine, considering her options. Knowing the name and location, it shouldn't be hard to find Lawrence Taylor's studio. Deciding she's hungry enough for an early lunch, she heads into the nearest McDonald's. After ordering her food, she borrows a phone book from the cashier and moves over to an empty table.
Flipping through the white pages, she smirks while searching for Night Sweat Pictures, feeling that the name sounds more like a side effect of menopause than dirty movies.
She never had much of an interest in porno and didn't know much about them except what her friends subjected her to. They thought they were so edgy and badass when one of them succeeded in getting his hands on his older brother's secret stash and brought it over once while they were all hanging out.
Despite her initial curiosity, Aurie found them boring. There wasn't anything going on that she wasn't already familiar with and the sex acts were unrealistic and exaggerated. The movies had no plot, the acting was horrible and the sex acts were repetitive. One of her friends called her stupid for her attitude. Suddenly an expert, she argued no one watches porno for the acting or stories.
Aurie could understand that. It just wasn't her cup of tea to watch someone else get it on in what she felt was the goofiest way possible.
Soon she found the listing for Night Sweat Pictures and returned the phone book before finishing up her food. It's not long before she boards the next bus, confident she'd soon be there, which was easier said than done.
Never before has she had so much trouble navigating a bus system, but she figures a chimp on crack must've designed the LA public transit system when she got on the wrong bus the fifth time in a row. She kept ending up everywhere but where she needed to be.
Eventually, she gets back on track after talking to one of the friendlier bus drivers who helps her figure out which line she's supposed to take. Worn out from the late afternoon heat, she's relieved when she finally arrives at Night Sweat Pictures.
After the successful meeting with Spencer Davis, she's confident things will just get easier. However, that sentiment quickly becomes the understatement of the year.
The floozy receptionist who fit with the stereotypical image one would expect of a desk jockey for a sleaze place like this simply wouldn't budge. The bimbo is wearing enough make-up to scare a drag queen and somewhat succeeds in her attempt to look younger because her age is indiscernible. Aurie wonders if she's trying to preserve her body so it'll be discovered by archeologists generations from now.
Unfortunately, politeness isn't the way to go with the receptionist. Aurie wastes the better part of an hour arguing just to see Lawrence Taylor for five minutes.
"Look, you're not getting in to see Mr. Taylor, so just get out of here before I call the cops," the over-processed bottle blonde 'puta' finally threatened in exasperation.
"Go ahead," Aurie challenges as she crosses her arms. "While they're at it they'll probably check this place out to make sure it's on the up and up and everything's nice and legal."
"Like they'd do that," the receptionist scoffs.
"They might since you're calling them about an underage girl and they'd wonder why any underage girl would be in a place like this," Aurie smiles sweetly.
The receptionist narrows her eyes before arching a badly drawn eyebrow.
"You're still not getting in to see him," she declares dismissively.
Considering her options, Aurie decides she's just going to have to sneak in to talk to Taylor. She's sure even if she left a message and the receptionist did give it to him it's unlikely she'll get a callback.
Not seeing any bathrooms nearby, she settles on using her bladder as the perfect excuse.
"Fine," Aurie snaps, blowing out a harsh breath in defeat. "Can I get an appointment with him then?"
"I don't schedule his appointments," the receptionist smugly replies. "You'll have to call in the morning and see if the girl who keeps Mr. Taylor's schedule is available. She doesn't keep regular hours, though."
Aurie knew the heavily painted bitch was lying. The damn scheduling book is sitting open on the desktop right under her big boobs.
"I'll do that," Aurie smiles sweetly. "Thank you for your help, ma'am."
Aurie revels in the direct hit, watching the bitch bristle. Trying to be polite when she first entered the building, she made the mistake of addressing the bitch as 'ma'am'. The cow went on for five minutes straight about how only old ladies are 'ma'ams', not her. Then it went downhill from there.
"One last thing, can I use the restroom?"
"No public restroom," the receptionist rolls her eyes in annoyance.
"C'mon," Aurie protests. "I'm not asking for access to the vaults. There's no gas station or even a fast-food restaurant anywhere nearby."
"Sounds like a personal problem," the receptionist replies airily as she straightened up her desk. Seeing Aurie still standing there glaring, the woman smirks. "If it's that bad, you could just go in the alley behind the building. Just make sure the cops don't catch ya. The bums might even appreciate the show."
Rolling her eyes, Aurie walks out. Loitering nearby she looks around, trying to figure out if there's another door or something she can sneak in through. She watches as a UPS van pulls up and the driver goes inside.
A couple of minutes later the receptionist trots out after the driver, making a spectacle of herself as she fawns and shamelessly flirts with the guy. Arching a brow as she smirks, Aurie slips back inside, leaving the receptionist to her fantasy world of brown as they count the numerous packages he's delivering.
Wandering the building, Aurie starts to question her ability to find her way around anywhere, feeling like an idiot when she ends up in a janitor's storeroom twice. Thankfully after the second time, she succeeds in finding a soundstage with lots of activity as people scurry about moving things and running some sort of errand. She may not be sure if Lawrence Taylor is even there, but the activity will help her move around while she looks for him. At least she knows what he looks like. She had plenty of time to study his massive portrait hanging on the wall behind the receptionist's desk while she argued with the puta. It would've been hard to miss since the damn thing had to be about seven feet high.
Wandering around she spots an abandoned clipboard atop a stack of boxes nearby. Effortlessly sweeping it up into her hands, she acts like just another crewmember and it's not long before she spots the man she's looking for.
Lawrence Taylor nearly looks exactly like his portrait. His wavy, shoulder-length, brown hair, light blue eyes, and even tan give him the appearance of a stereotypical Californian. However, his stature is far less imposing than his portrait. Aurie figures he's only about 5'10 or so. It's also obvious he's gained some weight from when that picture was taken judging by the dad bod he's sporting now.
Surreptitiously she approaches him while he's busy addressing two performers wearing only bathrobes. She doesn't have to strain to hear him since his booming, arrogant voice is easily heard above all the noise.
"What the hell do you two think you're doing?" he demands. "The name of the movie is 'A Roll in the Hay' not 'A Stroll in the Park.' It's porn, not a damn Harlequin romance novel!" He gestures in emphasis between the two actors. "Screw romantic sensuality. I want primal animal lust. I want intensity. I want her eyes popping out of her head and her toes curling in ecstasy. You got me, Donny?" he points aggressively at the male who nods. "Good, because if you don't start getting it, it's back to grannies stuffing fives and tens down your Speedos in Poughkeepsie!" Running a hand through his hair, he turns and stalks away. "I need a drink."
Falling in step beside him, Aurie jumps at her chance.
"Mr. Taylor, can I talk to you for a minute?"
Halting in his tracks, his eyes rake over her.
"You don't work for me. Do I even know you?"
"No, but I need to talk to you alone for a minute."
Lawrence's eyes narrow in suspicion as he crosses his arms across his chest.
"Look, don't know who you are and don't care. If you're looking for a part, we've cast all the roles. And you've got to audition like everyone else. Union rules." Quirking a brow as he looks her over again he continues. "But I've gotta be honest, you're not the type I like to hire. I prefer the 'all-American' look for the girls in my films. You're too short and heavier than I like. Though you're curvaceous enough, got big enough boobs, and light-complexioned enough. At least your eyes are interesting, but not enough to sell a film. You could dye your hair, but you're still not what I'm looking for. Your features are too ethnic. So leave or I'll call security."
With that dismissal, he starts walking again.
Aurie gapes after him in stunned shock. He seriously thinks she wants to be in one of his sleazy films? As if. Regaining her senses she ignores the insult and hurries to catch up.
"Mr. Taylor, I don't want a job. I just need a couple of minutes to talk about something important."
Lawrence pauses long enough to shrug.
"Suit yourself. Get security in here! Now!"
A little freaked, Aurie remembers a stunt one of her friends pulled once to get out of a tight spot. Going for broke, she goes for it.
"Why don't you want to talk to me?" she wails, scrunching up her face and pitching her voice into an annoyingly high whine. "You said age didn't matter! That laws don't matter!"
Lawrence Taylor gapes at her in shock as everyone in the vicinity joins him.
"You said it was the best B.J. you ever had in your Mercedes! So how can you deny you're my baby daddy?"
Aurie is running out of things to say, but it did the trick. Pissed, Lawrence grabs her arm and drags her off. She lets him, not worried for one second about him hurting her, especially after that little show. Just in case, she mentally readies herself for anything as he drags her down a nearby hallway to his office.
Shoving her inside he slams the door closed.
"All right, who the hell are you and what do you want?" he demands.
Taking a deep breath she dives right in.
"I'm Auralia, daughter of Amalia Acevedes. I don't want to cause trouble, but there's a chance you might be my biological father and I came to ask you to take a paternity test."
"Are you serious?"
At her nod, Lawrence rolls his eyes before moving to sit behind his desk. Taking her cue, she moves to sit in one of the guest chairs, looking around the office while doing so. The walls are plastered with adult movie posters. Stacks of scripts and various knick-knacks, some in poor taste, litter every available space.
"So you're learning the tricks of the trade?" At Aurie's blank look, he rolls his eyes and snorts. "C'mon, you don't expect me to believe that as Amalia's kid, you're not going to try soaking me for a profit?"
Aurie scowls before taking another deep, calming breath so she doesn't go off on the idiot.
"No, I'm not," she states firmly. "My mom thought someone else was my dad. I went to see him this morning and it turns out he can't be. He said you or two other guys might be it."
"Yeah, right," he sarcastically retorts. "Who did she think knocked her up?"
"Spencer Davis."
Lawrence busts out laughing.
"I remember now! Yeah, she was hot after his dick and money, but didn't catch on that he's gayer than Liberace."
Aurie has no idea who the hell Liberace is but decides not to ask.
"So who're the two other saps ol' Spence named to get you off his back? It can't be just anyone because she was picky as hell."
"Mark and Steve Sloan."
"Those two Boy Scouts?" Lawrence asks incredulously, scrunching up his face in confusion. "Man, he must've been desperate to divert attention from himself. And you believed him?"
"Well, yeah," she admits with a shrug.
"Don't believe everything you're told, sweetheart," he mocks. "Spencer the Fairy is just covering his ass by naming me as a candidate for your daddy. He proves it by naming the two golden boys of California. They're too pure."
"And how are you sure?" she challenges. "Maybe Mr. Davis is lying, but I don't think so. I trust him better than you, anyway."
Lawrence starts opening his mouth, but she cuts him off.
"Look, we're not getting anywhere without a paternity test. If you're so sure, then you're home free. So what do you care if you lose a little time out of your day and give up a little blood? It's not gonna kill you."
Lawrence takes a few minutes to eye her shrewdly.
"And how much do you want?"
"What?" she asks in confusion.
"How much hush money do you want?" he demands again.
"I don't want any money," she growls out.
"Uh-huh, sure you don't. You only barge in here rambling about paternity tests." Leaning in closer he smirks condescendingly. "You're Amalia Acevedes' daughter. You want money. So how much?"
Narrowing her eyes, Aurie struggles to keep her temper in check.
"No, I don't," she tersely bites out. "I just want to find out if you're my biological father. Preferably to rule you out. That's it."
"And hit me up for cash."
"Is your obnoxiousness hereditary or did you get a degree in it?" she snaps.
"Years of practice, sweetheart," Lawrence mocks as he leans back in his chair.
Taking a really deep breath, Aurie counted to ten before trying again.
"Look, I don't want money from you. And it wouldn't matter anyway if you're not my father. Whatever happens, I don't even want to ever hear from you again." Seeing the skepticism in his eyes she adds, "If it's that big a deal to take a simple blood test, then maybe we should each lawyer up and settle it that way. Can't help the attention that could attract if we handle it that way, though," she shrugs.
Lawrence arches a brow at her.
"You sure play dirty like your mother."
"I catch on quick, sweetheart, especially when my opponents fight dirty," she retorts. "Look, are you going to take the damn test or not?"
"Which you want me to pay for, right?" he sarcastically asks.
Gritting her teeth, Aurie struggles not to snap and kill the moron.
"I'm paying. After that, you can forget all about me. I don't exist to you; you don't exist to me. No strings attached. Got it?"
He stares at her, mulling it over before finally conceding.
"Fine, whatever. When do you want me to give a blood sample?"
Relieved she's finally getting somewhere, she takes a moment to think about it.
"Don't know yet. Got to set it up and stuff. I'll have to call you later about it."
Reaching into the inner pocket of his sports coat Lawrence draws out a business card and hands it to her.
"This is my business card with my private number on it. Call me when you've got it together. Now will you leave, or do I have to call security?"
"Nope. Don't have to," Aurie replies with a fake smile as she gets up and leaves. A moment later she pops her head back in. "Um, how do I get out of here?"
Several minutes later she slouches down in her seat as the bus pulls away. She now has a pounding headache and just wants to go back to the motel and crash.
'One down and two to go,' she muses thoughtfully, silently hoping the next meeting with a dad candidate will go much smoother.
Puta - 'bitch' I've heard it used as 'whore' depending on the context. Pronounced poo-tah
A/N: I'm going to keep the Spanish to a bare minimum. I'm not fluent enough to write it and AI translations can get it wrong. Plus, I find it annoying as hell to have to scroll down to the bottom of the page to find out what the characters are saying.