“No.” Brent smiled more comfortably now, revealing perfect teeth and an adorable dimple. “I mean, it’s just at these industry things Mason makes me come to, everyone usually knows me. Well, they think they know me. They’ve seen my pictures. Videos.” A look of distaste crossed his face. “You really have no idea who I am?”
With his postpubescent good looks and slightly androgynous sexiness, he looked like he could be the star of a Nickelodeon or Disney TV show. But I was long past my days of Degrassi and iCarly. I grimaced. “Sorry, buddy. I think this is the first time I’ve ever seen you.”
“Then you’d make a really bad detective. Look around you, bro.”
He waved around the room, where people had propped or pinned various SwordFight Productions posters. In one, about ten guys stood shirtless with their arms around each other. The two in the middle stood closest to the camera and dominated the group. One was Brock Peters, the model we’d just had on the show.
The other was Brent.
I noticed a few other posters then, as well as some brochures left out by the pizzas. Sure enough, Brent’s pretty face appeared on more than half of them. One of the signs was a smiling closeup of him with the headline “The New Face of SwordFight-Our Freshest Catch Yet.”
Clearly, Brent was a rising star. Or a risen one.
“I’m kind of glad you didn’t know me,” Brent said. “I’m tired of those guys who think they do.” He crossed his arms defensively across his chest and stuck out his chin at the “Fresh Catch” poster. “They know him.”
I felt like he was defending himself from a charge I hadn’t lobbed.
“I’m glad I met you first, then,” I said, realizing as I did that it came out a little flirtatious. Which wasn’t what I was going for.
At least, not consciously.
“I don’t understand how you could be working with SwordFight and not have seen me, though.” Brent’s voice carried a hint of suspicion. I was sure a boy as pretty as he had men lie to him on many an occasion to get close.
“I’m not with Mason,” I explained. “I’m with the show.”
Brent looked a little confused. Once again I had the weird sense I knew what he was thinking. Isn’t that what Mason does? Make shows?
“ This show,” I clarified. “The one Brock was on. Sophie’s Voice. ”
Brent’s smile returned, as did his relief. Relaxed, he looked even cuter. Younger, too. “Oh my god,” he enthused, now exuding a total tween vibe. “I love her. You get to work with her? That must be so much fun.” He bounced on his heels with enthusiasm.
Wanting to keep him at ease, I tried to think of something that would convince him to further relax his guard. “I’ll tell you a secret, if you promise to keep it to yourself.”
Brent’s eyebrow rose with the wariness of a boy accustomed to guys trying to make deals with him. I knew the feeling. He hesitated, and then nodded.
I regretted making him anxious again, but knew the payoff would be worth it.
“I do more than just work with her-she’s my mom.”
“No!”
“Yes!”
Brent gushed some more about my mother and how great it must be to have a “totally cool” mother like her. I let him enjoy the fantasy.
“You’re so lucky,” he said. “A great mom and a rocking job. You must love your work.”
“Don’t you?” The life of a porn star was the fantasy of many.
Brent shrugged. “Parts of it.” Then, a dirty smile. “Okay, big parts of it. It can be a lot of fun. And it’s kind of cool to be able to get in to any club or meet any guy. And the money’s sweet.
“But… look, I’m not stupid. I sought this out. I went after this. I sent my homemade video to Mason because I wanted to be in the movies. I knew what I was getting into. But I didn’t expect to always be so… on display. Like a piece of meat.
“And they’re always wanting you to do more. To give the audience something they haven’t seen you do before. I mean, I’m only twenty-one, but I’m running out of tricks.”
“You’re twenty-one?” That was the part that surprised me the most.
Brent laughed. “I know, I look a lot younger. I get that all the time. I bet you do, too.”
I nodded.
“You know, I couldn’t help but notice…,” Brent began.
“We could pass as brothers,” I finished.
Brent cracked up. Now that he was past his initial discomfort, he was as winning as a boy gets. He got me laughing, too. We were giggling like two schoolboys when our eyes locked and the mood abruptly changed.
“Listen,” Brent said. “You seem like a really nice guy. I don’t do this a lot, but would you like to get together sometime? Somewhere else? Like, a date?” A blush like a wildfire raced across his cheeks.
Lord, he was a cutie.
“I would love to,” I answered. “But I have a boyfriend.”
Brent took a step closer. “I won’t tell if you don’t.”
I cocked my head.
“I know,” Brent said. “You’re a Good Guy, right? One who doesn’t cheat on his man?”
“Guilty as charged. Although, if I did, you’d be number one on the list. You’re smart, you’re adorable, you’re funny-so, why are you single?”
Brent pointed at his poster again. “They all want him. They don’t even know who I am.”
“Who are you?”
“Promise not to tell?”
“Hey, I told you my secret,” I reminded him.
Brent’s expression turned serious. “The truth is…” He leaned in closer, his lips to my ear. His breath was hot against my face. “I really am your brother. Your parents’ secret love child whom they abandoned to be raised by wolves and porno producers.” He gave a sensual little nip to my earlobe and stepped back.
“So,” he concluded, “it’s probably better we don’t date. Considering the blood relation and all.” He grinned cockily.
I hoped he didn’t glance downward. His little flirtation had gotten a rise out of me.
Literally.
I’m only human.
I shoved my hands into my front pockets, trying to make it look casual. “So,” I asked, “how do you tell the difference?”
The cocky grin faded. “What do you mean?”
“Between the wolves and the producers?”
Brent laughed again, his musical giggle lighting up the room. “If you’re going to reject me, could you stop being so funny and interesting?” he asked politely.
“Believe me, it’s not that easy saying no to you. Of course, it’d be easier if you’d tell me who I was saying no to…”
“Right,” Brent said. He pitched his voice low. “You actually want to know the real me. It’s a nice change.”
This time, he extended a hand. “I’m Richard. Everyone calls me Richie, though. From Queens, New York.”
I took his hand in mine, this time with none of the earlier formality. I felt like we’d become fast friends. There was an immediate connection between us. I knew there’d be even more of one if I ever told him how I’d been making a living just a few months ago.
“Well, it’s nice to meet you, Richie. And, if you’re into it, I’d still like to get together for a coffee or something. Maybe we can figure out how you can meet a guy who isn’t only interested in ‘him.’ ” I made air quotes with my fingers while nodding toward his poster.
“Actually, I already have. This guy named Charlie. I kind of like him. But the problem is, he’s got major issues with my work. He doesn’t want me to ever be ‘Brent’ again. He can’t stand the thought of me being with other guys. Especially on film. He really hates it. I keep telling him to separate what I do from who I am, but I think it’s a losing
