CHAPTER EIGHT
“Eamon wants to see you,” Selene said when she opened the door for me, so I went up the flights of worn stairs and found Eamon sitting on the corner of one desk, legs crossed reveling cashmere socks and handmade loafers as he flicked a fleck of cigarette ash off his trousers.
“Ah, Jude, darling,” he said. “Busy busy tonight. I will be working downstairs, so I want you to drive everyone around. Here’s the charge card.” Eamon held out a piece of plastic to me, and I quickly put it in my pocket. “Has Autumn told you how it works when you’re driving?”
“No,” I said. “What do I need to know?”
“Write it all down. Who you take where and what the time is. Make sure you collect ten dollars from each person for each trip. Hand the money to Autumn at the end of the night, along with your list, and she’ll make sure it balances.”
“Anything else?” I asked.
Eamon shook his head. “No, just make sure your cell phone is on at all times because if any of the staff get into strife on a call-out, you will have to go and get them.”
I nodded, and one of the phones rang and Eamon leaned across the desk and answered it. “Hello,” he said in a low voice. “You’ve reached Glenn’s personal assistant. How may I help you?”
I knew I’d been dismissed, but I stayed, intrigued by the change in Eamon’s voice and demeanor as he dealt with the customer. “Glenn would love to meet you in person. When would suit you for a rendezvous? Glenn is busy tonight, would you like to meet him tomorrow night at eleven?” Eamon slid off the desk and sat in the chair, the phone cradled between his shoulder and ear, and said, “Credit cards are welcome, let me book you in.”
The kitchen was filling up when I came back downstairs, and I found I could remember people’s names, despite the previous night being a blur in my memory. Rod was there, with Shane, and another boy that I didn’t recognize. Chloe was painting her face, Yuki was yawning, still dressed in jeans and a T-shirt. There were new faces too; a tall black woman in bra and knickers, displaying a tremendous physique; a faded middle-aged woman who looked too maternal to be hooking.
Yuki gave up her seat to a tall man with blonde hair pulled back into a ponytail who I recognized as Glenn, and he kissed her cheek and sat down, and rested his head on his folded arms. “Morning, everyone,” he said.
I should have figured out movie star rules applied to porn stars. Actors always looked better with makeup on and when they were awake. They were often shorter and weedier in real life than they appeared on-screen. Glenn was tall, but he was paler than I expected, without a spray-on tan, and he looked haggard in the fluorescent light of the kitchen. He did not look like a man was about to spend the night having sex with strangers at a two-thousand dollars a time.
Glenn lifted his head again to check the time on the kitchen clock, then looked across to where the boys huddled around the back door so Shane could blow the smoke from his cigarette outside. Much to my surprise, I thought of them proprietarily as my boys.
“Does anyone have a spare V?” Glenn asked them.
The boy I hadn’t met the night before fished a bottle of pills out of his pocket and tossed it across to Glenn, who caught it and took one out and swallowed it dry.
“Thanks, Clay,” Glenn said, and he recapped the bottle and tossed it back to the blonde boy.
V must be Viagra. I guessed it was essential for someone like Glenn, who had spent at least a part of the day on a film set making porn before coming here to see four customers in a night.
Eamon appeared at the bottom of the stairs and clapped his hands. “Come along everyone, get ready, brighten up, go make yourselves beautiful. I’ve got a stack of booking slips here.” He waved one of his hands, rustling the papers he was holding. “Yuki, love, go get ready. You’re going to the Bel Air. Rod, you’re off to a private party, and Peyton and Lola, you’ve got a double booked.”
There was a flurry of activity in the room, and people dispersed to get ready. Eamon patted Glenn on the shoulder and said, “Ready to face the night?”
Glenn nodded and stood up and slung his bag over his shoulder and headed for the showers.
The doorbell that I now knew belonged to Club Jade rang and Eamon handed me the booking slips that he was holding and disappeared off to answer it.
I could see Rod was ready, so he called out, “Yuki? Lola? Peyton? Are you all ready to go?”
Five minutes later I unlocked mycar, and watched as Yuki, looking cute in a miniskirt and braids and boots clambered into the car, followed by Lola and Peyton, elegant in high heels and evening gowns. Rod slid into the front passenger seat, and I reached for the map book and pulled the booking slips out of my pocket.
Lola leaned forward from the back seat, giving me a good look at her impressive cleavage, and said, “Put the radio on for us, hon.”
I was elated when the community radio station that I loved came on, as I pulled out into the traffic. Flicking my headlights on. Lola leaned forward again and said, “Can we have something more? Go on, Rod, find us something with a beat.”
I dropped Lola and Peyton off at a Travelodge, and then Yuki at the Bel Air, and Rod leaned forward and turned the radio off. “What do you listen to, Jude?” he asked. I realized this was the first time Rod had spoken to me since he got in the car, unlike the three girls who had chattered. Even Yuki had kept up a steady monologue between the two hotels.
We enjoyed listening to the music until I pulled into a driveway and the security lights went on.
Rod nodded to me and said, “I’ll see you later."
I watched him saunter up the driveway of this house, past the parked Jags and Ferraris, his leather pants riding low on his hips and his mesh shirt fluttering open.
***
It was over two hours before my phone rang and they told me to collect Rod.
Rod was waiting, sitting on the curb three houses down from where I had dropped him off. He waved at me to get my attention.
He climbed into the back seat this time, and I could see him in his rearview mirror, long legs pulled up with his arms wrapped around his knees, head resting on the back of the seat, his eyes closed.
I asked, “Would you like music, Rod?” Rod shook his head without even opening his eyes.
I kind of understood. There had been nights myself at home when I felt so worn out and empty that the thought of music made me scream. Those nights, the silence was all I could bear.