Rafe
The Los Angeles sunshine was unbelievably bright, the glare painfully reflected off of windows, cars, anything shiny. I felt out of place in my dark suit and mentally made a note to instruct Santino to pack something lighter next time. Of course, I’d hopped on my plane the moment I got a hold of Green Guys, so Santino hadn’t had much time, but I hadn’t expected the city to be so oppressive either.
Because it was. Hollywood was dingy, hardly the glamorous, bright lights big city made out in movies and books. Instead it was strip mall after strip mall, Korean grocery stores and Laundromats endlessly lining the faceless roads that seemed to go on forever.
I came to a square block of a building, painted pale pink, the attempt at Art Deco falling face flat, appearing like a decrepit dollhouse instead. The name Green Guys was emblazoned on the door in peeling letters and I knocked although what I really wanted to do was to bulldoze this place and then maybe torch it afterwards, it was so grimy and gross.
The lock clicked and I let myself in, going up to the second floor.
A blonde woman who was fake in all ways greeted me from behind a desk, her lips like Lisa Rinna on an acid trip.
“Mr. Connor, we’ve been expecting you,” she simpered, giving me her biggest smile. “Please come into the back.”
I followed her through a set of doors to a suite decorated with a desk, a couch, a video camera, and a big screen TV. Okay, this is how porn places outfitted their conference rooms. Made sense, I guess.
“Can I get you anything while you wait?” the blonde purred. “I’m Candy,” she added unnecessarily, batting her lashes at me.
“No thanks,” I replied shortly. The faster this blonde got out, the cleaner I’d feel.
“Well, just let me know,” she cooed, “I’m just outside.”
“Okay,” I said in a clipped voice, refusing to look at her. Ugh, were all LA girls like this? The receptionist was just so fake, big tits that joggled like balloons, a face that was straight out of funhouse mirror.
I paced in the small room and when the door finally opened again I spun around, expecting to see some seedy producer, probably some paunchy short dude, fifty with a big gut. But instead, there stood Jenna.
“Rafe!” she gasped. “What are you doing here?” her cheeks colored.
My body got hard at the sight of her but I maintained my iron control.
“I should ask you the same thing,” I said harshly. “Here to do some filming again?”
She looked down at the floor.
“It wasn’t me,” she whispered. “I’m not the girl in the video, although I don’t expect you to believe it.”
I wasn’t sure what I believed at this point. I was inclined to accept the truth, but seeing the girl in person, mixed emotions crept over me. She looked so vulnerable, so lost, that I couldn’t help but feel protective, my natural male instinct rising to the fore.
I looked closely at my woman. She was thinner, that was for sure. The luscious curves were still there but instead of a solid wholesomeness, she was slimmer, more willowy. Her hair was still gloriously golden, but she’d scraped it back from her face, her oval chin now clearly delineated, the blue eyes looking even larger than before, overwhelming her features. Hmm, Jenna had been going through some hard times.
“Thank you for the bracelet,” she murmured softly, her eyes pleading with me silently, big pools of aquamarine.
Oh that. Right. “You’re welcome,” I growled. I’d actually picked out the bracelet myself, not leaving it to my secretary per usual.
But it was time to get to business.
“So did you or didn’t you?” I asked directly. “Is that you in the video?”
“Rafe,” she replied slowly. “I swear it wasn’t me. I’ve done some dumb things but nothing like that, I promise.”
“What about drugs?” I asked harshly. “Is there some way you were under the influence and don’t remember?”
She blanched a bit. “There’s no way anyone could be under the influence and have no recollection of a scene like that. I’m not sure who they found as my replacement, but she’s a ringer for me, almost a real twin,” Jenna replied softly.
And those words made me pause. I knew that Jenna and Tina were fraternal, looking nothing alike, but could it be possible? Could Jenna have been switched at birth? Maybe her real twin was the one doing the porn. I couldn’t shake the idea, my brain buzzing with possibilities.
“Jenna,” I said slowly. “Tell me about your family.”
“There isn’t much to know,” she shrugged. “There’s four of us girls, me, Tina, Karina and Callie. Mom and Dad got divorced when I was a kid and Dad was a deadbeat, never coming around. So Mom raised us herself and it was a struggle financially.”
“But what about your birth?” I asked. “Is your dad listed on the certificate?”
“I guess,” she said, looking confused. “I mean, why wouldn’t he be? I’ve never seen my birth certificate,” she confessed.
Okay, this was the first clue that something might be awry.
“Why did your parents divorce?” I asked, my eyes penetrating. “Was there something that happened, cheating, infidelity, that kind of thing?”
“No, not that I know of,” said Jenna slowly. “Why, what does this have to do with anything?”
I ignored her question. “Where is your dad now?”
But the girl didn’t answer, holding up a hand in a stop motion.
“Rafe, I have to know where these questions are going. Why all these questions about my dad? I already told you, he’s a deadbeat, I haven’t seen him for years.”
“Because Jenna,” I said slowly. “It’s possible that your life history isn’t what you think it is. Your twin may not actually be Tina. You may have an identical twin out there, another girl who made that porn film.”
She gasped. “This makes no sense,” she said finally, her eyes wide. “I know my family, I’ve known them since birth. They are my family,” she said forcefully.
“But they’ve never been kind to you right? And your dad took off pretty early? With no explanation?”
“Yeah, but that means nothing, lots of parents get fed up and leave their kids behind. Why would my dad be different?”
“Because we have a mystery girl who looks exactly like you. Something doesn’t smell right,” I stated firmly.
Just then the door cracked open again and a disgusting looking old guy strolled in, his face pimpled and bumpy.
“Ah Mr. Connor, Ms. Walsh, I see you’re acquainted,” he drawled oily. “My name’s Oscar, I’m the head of the Green Guy Productions, we’re responsible for the sex tape that’s out there right now,” he said, leering at Jenna. “It’s a best-seller.”
I immediately hated the guy on sight, there was a nasty smell coming from him, like putrid garbage.
“I can see you’ve been discussing something serious and I think I have the answer to your questions,” he continued. “Violet!” he called. “Come in please!”
And in sashayed a blonde, stunning in her striking resemblance to Jenna. She was the same height, the same weight, the same stunning features except that she’d aged poorly. There were small wrinkles around her nose and mouth, crow’s feet bracketing her eyes, her skin orange and tired, the result of too many tanning sessions.
“Hiya all,” giggled the other woman. “I understand you’re my twin, Jenna. Nice to meet you!” she chirped as her breasts bobbled.
And both Jenna and I could only stare. Who was this woman and how did she get here?