Chapter sixteen

JOSH LEARNED THE definition of the word awkward underneath the disco lighting of a West Hollywood bowling alley.

“Clara, I’d like you to meet Stu . . . or uh . . . I mean, Naomi Grant,” he said a week and a half later, raising his voice over the clashing of pins as he introduced the last woman he’d touched sexually to his ex-girlfriend.

He’d attempted to be strategic with the location for extending his business proposal. Nothing corporate or fussy. Bowling seemed smart because it gave everyone something to do with their hands, but he hadn’t anticipated that the only available lane at two p.m. on a Sunday would be smack-dab between a middle school birthday party and league practice for seniors.

Clara shifted the pair of bowling shoes she held to free up her right hand and extend it for Stu to shake. “It’s nice to meet you. Do you prefer Naomi or . . . Stu, was it?”

“If you call me Naomi there’s a better chance I’ll answer.” His ex looked around the bowling alley with a deep glower.

They all stood in a little circle staring at one another and holding shoes that didn’t belong to them. “Shall we?” He gestured for the two women to precede him in selecting their bowling balls.

While Clara wore a pair of jeans and a simple white short-sleeve shirt, Naomi had on some kind of ridiculously tiny leather shorts and one of his old Metallica T-shirts chopped up until it hung off her shoulders and showed her stomach. Outwardly at least, the two women didn’t have a thing in common, besides the obvious fact that they were both beautiful. Josh fought the impulse to run.

“Next time don’t let him pick the activity,” Naomi said to Clara.

Clara dipped her head. “Noted.”

“I’m standing right behind you.”

Both women stared at him with their hands planted on their hips. Why had he ever thought this was a good idea?

Oh right, because beggars couldn’t be choosers. And, after verifying with Clara several times over the last few days that she still wanted to fund this endeavor while sober, he’d agreed to take her money. Now he owed it to her to secure the best possible “leading lady.” No one else in the industry had the lethal combination of talent, intellect, and business savvy that Naomi did. Unfortunately, she also alternately hated his guts and wanted to fuck his brains out, making negotiation rather treacherous.

After a couple of awkward rounds of both bowling and beers, Clara discreetly elbowed Josh. “Quit stalling,” she said under her breath while Naomi waited for her ball to come back out of the machine. “We’ve been over the pitch a hundred times over the last few days. Ask her now before we lose our audience.”

“Now? You think so? We’ve only bowled twenty-four frames.”

Clara furrowed her brow. “Now. I get frumpier every second I spend standing next to that woman.” She pulled the contract they’d had a lawyer draw up out of her purse and shoved the papers hard against Josh’s chest. “I’m saying this not as your friend, not as your roommate, but as your business partner: if you don’t ask her to look at those documents in the next five minutes”—her gray eyes flashed dangerously—“I’m going to make you eat them.”

Josh swallowed. “Got it.”

Naomi returned from her turn.

“Hey, Stu, will you sit down for a second? There’s something I . . . I mean, we, want to discuss with you.” He laid out the situation, hitting most of the key points from Clara’s project proposal. She only winced once when he accidentally said “resource to pleasure women” instead of “resource for women’s pleasure.”

When he finished he sagged back in his hard plastic chair. Mission complete. Maybe now they could order nachos. “So, what do you think?”

Naomi stared at Clara and Josh over the rim of her beer. “I’ve heard my fair share of wild propositions over the years, but I’ve got to hand it to you, this one takes the cake. You wanna give Black Hat the middle finger and you want to use my hand, not to mention other body parts, to do it?”

Josh leaned forward and rested his elbows on his knees. He lowered his voice so that the birthday boy in the paper hat wouldn’t overhear them. “The concept only works if it’s got a woman at its helm. No one needs a site focused on how to get men to orgasm. Clara says we’ve gotta play to the needs of the market.”

Clara took a healthy gulp of her beer and lowered it with a shaky hand. He shouldn’t have begged her to come, but he didn’t think he’d get through this without her.

“Come on, Stu. I’m not arrogant enough to think I know everything about women’s pleasure. But lending my dulcet tones as your pretty-boy front man? It could work.”

Naomi’s fiery-eyed glare would have stripped paint off a Buick.

Clara came to his rescue. “You can hire whomever you want. Female writers, directors, editors, as many positions as you need. We’ll let them know about the risk up front from Pruitt, but the beauty of the plan is that we don’t need Black Hat distribution. Josh can harness his Darlings, and you’ll bring your own fans to the table. That’s enough of a viewing population to get things rolling. But if our goal is to bring in male audiences too, we need a carrot.”

“I’m the carrot?” Naomi gave a little wave to the shoe attendant, who hadn’t taken his eyes off of her since she walked in.

“You’re more than a carrot,” Clara said. “Separately, you’re two of the hottest names in the industry, and the idea that you’re coming back together to build something for women, focused on their experience and satisfaction, will make people curious. I can help you get press coverage. I’m learning a lot at my aunt’s PR firm. The hook is built in. A site focused on women’s sexual pleasure shouldn’t feel revolutionary, but it does a little, don’t you think?”

Naomi raised a finely crafted eyebrow. “Exactly how much do you know about pleasuring women?” Her tone was civil but her subtext was pointed: Who are you and what gives you the right to walk in our world?

Clara straightened her shoulders. “Not as much as I’d like, but I’m a quick study.”

Naomi’s eyes shot to Josh. “Is that where you come in, Romeo?”

Josh knew she thought he’d seduced Clara into some kind of sex fog, but that wasn’t the case. She was just that good a person—one who wanted to use her money to help people. And he’d brought her here and fed her to a lioness because he only had conviction in his potential when she stood within ten feet of him. Sweat beaded at his temples and he tried to drown himself in his beer.

Naomi tapped her foot and the bottom of her bowling shoe slapped the linoleum. “So it’s what, porn with more kissing? Better lighting? Rose petals?”

“It’s not porn,” Josh said. “It’s sex ed with a makeover. Less clinical, more entertaining. Built for grown-ups.”

Clara picked up on his momentum. “You two could make it fun, exciting. You’re experts in pleasure. The primary focus would be instruction rather than titillation. The people on screen would perform different positions and techniques, you and Josh could explain what they’re doing and why it works. What works for everybody is different, so we’d never run out of material.”

“We could give advice and tips for partners to act out together and for women to try solo,” Josh added, feeling like the Robin to Clara’s Batman.

“Sounds quaint,” Naomi said. “But it won’t matter what you call it. Society sees naked women and immediately registers spank bank material.”

“But it’s got a completely different goal. We want to rewrite the narrative with a focus on establishing healthy intimacy and equal-opportunity orgasms,” Clara said as the lane next to them celebrated a particularly good spare with a loud round of hollering.

Naomi picked up her ball and, after a practiced windup, sent it flying down the lane, knocking over a neat nine pins before saying over her shoulder, “That’s a sweet vision. Delusional, and self-important, but sweet for certain.”

“I should have stayed home,” Clara whispered to Josh.

But he wasn’t ready to throw in the towel. “That’s why we need you, Stu. I know you look at the direction the industry is going and wish you could change it, dismantle the machine from within. How many times have you had to work with a man who made you feel gross?”

“Josh mentioned you’ve had some trouble with the producers and directors trying to get you to do things you don’t want to,” his roommate added, wringing her hands. “This is your chance to call the shots. To make what you want with whomever you want to hire. Complete creative freedom.”

“Come on, Stu. How many of us get an opportunity like this?”

Naomi narrowed her eyes. “Who’s funding this benevolent endeavor? I don’t suppose you recently came into an inheritance?”

“That would be me.” Clara raised her hand and then immediately tucked it under her thigh.

Naomi laughed. “Now that’s an unexpected twist. You’d be my creative partner? You’re full of surprises.”

“My involvement would be exclusively financial. If that’s what you’re worried about.”