Chapter 52

"Come on," Brock said with a gentle pat on her hip. "If we don't get back down there, people are going to think we're getting naked up here."

"We are naked," Meredith said, wiping away her tears. "Let's grab a shower and get changed."

"Are you sure it's a good idea?" Brock wondered.

"Being naked with you is always a good idea," Meredith said firmly. "But no funny business, I don't want to miss Dad and Erin heading off for their honeymoon."

Brock and Meredith emerged from the elevator just as the second wave of adult performers entered the lobby. Meredith had explained that the first group was primarily performers but this group was the business minds. Some were performers, Meredith said, but they were also involved in other projects. Brock could honestly make no distinction between the groups. They didn't act any differently than the first group. In fact, he was told that the most outrageous person in attendance wasn't a performer at all. She did nude modeling on the web but was strictly solo. She was the girlfriend of the nerdy-looking guy who had given Brock his card the night before.

"It just goes to show you," Meredith joked, "you can't judge a book by its cover. Who would have thought that just an hour ago I was begging you to fuck me harder? Now look at me. I'm as innocent as an angel."

Although Sam and Erin soon departed for the airport, the rest of the group stayed and mingled until well past dark – at which point the first group returned.

It was well past midnight when Brock and Meredith made their way back to the elevator – and later than that before they finally drifted off to sleep.

Thus it was way too soon when Brock's cell phone started to ring from the bedside table. It was early on a Sunday morning and he couldn't for the life of him figure out who would be calling. When he saw the Caller ID, it made less sense.

"What is it, Stan?" he muttered into the phone.

"I hope you have your publicist close by," Stan said.

"What?" Brock asked sleepily as he arose so Meredith could remain in slumber.

"There is a photo on one of the gossip sites," Stan said. "It shows you, Al Perez, Josh Hart and Zack Duffy partying with porn stars in Las Vegas."

"So?" Brock asked. "What about it?"

"Porn stars, Brock," Stan said. "They fuck for money."

"So do two-thirds of the women in Hollywood," Brock shot back angrily. "What in the fuck does this have to do with anything?"

Stan let out a long sigh.

"How is Meredith going to feel when she sees this?" he tried.

"Since she was right there with me, I don't think she'll feel anything," Brock said. "In fact, she is the one who invited them. It's total bullshit, Stan. We were out for Sam's bachelor party and took him to a convention. We met this group of people who aren't that different from the rest of us, if you want to know the truth. We took a picture of Meredith's Dad with two of them. I showed it to Meredith. She thought it was funny and she called them the next morning. They went to the wedding and to the reception. That's it. We didn't have an orgy at the airport. Hell, they were all dressed far more conservatively than the women who don't 'fuck for money' as you put it. There were no drugs; no one got drunk; no one got laid by anyone they didn't plan to get laid by earlier in the day."

"There still is a stigma attached to them," Stan said. "The companies who want you to do promotions for them might not be as open-minded as you are. Maybe you should issue a statement along the lines of what transpired."

"If I issue a statement, it's going to be along the lines of 'It's none of your fucking business who I spend my personal time with, '" Brock rebuked. "I'll put that group of people up beside any group you want to find and I'll guarantee you who'll come out looking better. So the gossip blogs and the shit-stirrers can kiss my fucking ass, Stan. The companies who refuse to look past the surface can kiss my fucking ass. And if you don't like it, you can kiss my ass right alongside them!"

Stan Balsam could count on one hand the number of times he had heard Brock Miller raise his voice above the calm, measured tones he always use.

"So Meredith isn't going to be mad?" Stan asked.

"I have long ago quit trying to figure out how anyone else is going to feel," Brock replied, his voice still harsh. "But I don't think she'll be upset at anything more than having her personal life invaded. I'll tell you this. Whoever took that picture had better have been paid well. Security made sure no photographers were allowed inside so it had to have been one of the hotel staff members. I'll make it my personal goal to find out who it was and I will bury him."

"That will just ensure more bad publicity," Stan warned.

"It'll just guarantee that the next asshole who tries this will think twice," Brock shot back. "We were more worried about privacy for Randi and Tara. I've got to go, Stan. I'm going to find the hotel manager and get to the bottom of things. Call me back later or don't. It's up to you."

It didn't take Brock long to find the web site hosting the pictures. There was nothing salacious about them. It showed him dancing with the girl he knew as Rebecca but who was identified at Rita Looker in the caption. There was one with Al talking to Lucy Miller, no relation, (who was dubbed Emily Proper) and one with Zack laughing with a group that included Leslie (or Cassie Charms as she was labeled), Katey (or Betsy Hamilton) and Rebecca. The last one had Josh and his wife, Mandy (who was not identified as his wife but only as a nude model who had posed for Playboy), chatting with Sarah (or Sahara Rain). Everyone was fully dressed and standing a respectable distance apart.

The "article" that accompanied the story was what pissed Brock off. It made no mention of the fact that 30 other people were in the room or that it was in a private venue.

"It seems that members of the Los Angeles Dodgers decided to kick off Spring Training with a bang – or is that a gangbang," the story read. "Four of the team's star players were spotted at a Las Vegas hotel partying late into the night with a group of rising performers in the adult business (that's porn stars to you and me). According to sources, All-Star outfielder Al Perez and catcher Josh Hart treated young standouts Brock Miller and Zack Duffy to a night of revelry that appears to have included a command performance by porn stars Sahara Rain, Cassie Charms, Rita Looker, Emily Proper and Betsy Hamilton. At least Brock Miller seems content to share these 'Beauties' with his teammates."

The poor girl at the desk looked terrified when Brock stormed up to her.

"Get the manager," he ordered.

"Uh, sir, there is no manager on duty until 10 a.m. on Sundays," she said.

"Call him at home and get him in here," Brock insisted.

"Is there something I can help you with, sir?" the young woman asked.

"I highly doubt it," Brock said. He still had Meredith's laptop under his arm so he plopped it down the counter and opened it. He accessed the Wi-Fi and pointed the browser to the page he'd bookmarked. As the girl looked at it he slapped a copy of the contract for the rental of the room down beside the computer.

"We were guaranteed that no photographers would be permitted on site and that the staff would 'conduct themselves with the highest level of propriety and discretion, '" Brock said. "No staff member would be permitted to videotape, photograph or record anything that transpired while we were renting this facility. Does it appear to you that this facility has lived up to its end of the contract?"

The girl gulped. It was obvious that the photos had been taken in one of the banquet rooms at the hotel. She looked at the paragraph next to the angry man's finger and her frown deepened.

"Are you certain that no one in your party took these photos?" she asked.

"Are you out of your fucking mind?" Brock asked. "The reason we insisted on that clause was because there were far more famous people there than us. If someone wanted to make a splash, they could have taken pictures of them. Christ, call your manager. I am through dealing with morons."

"Sir, there is no reason to be rude," the woman said.

"And there is no reason for you to act like an idiot," Brock shot back. "You need your manager here immediately."

The woman frowned. It wasn't unusual to have a customer upset about something trivial. She had dealt with it on any number of occasions. This seemed a little more serious than anything she had confronted before.

"Before I call him, perhaps you could tell me how you think this should be handled," she said.

"Sure, why not?" Brock replied. "Your establishment is in clear violation of our contract and your staff has committed at least one criminal act. The photos are from after five p.m. I changed clothes at that point. The group shot tells me that it was taken after 11 p.m. That's the only time all the people pictured were there at the same time. I suggest you bring in every member of your staff who had access to that room between five p.m. and midnight. I'll find out who took the picture. You can fire them. I'll have them arrested and then we'll sue the shit out of him and this place. Sound like a plan to you?"

"Let me call the manager who was on duty last night," the woman said. Brock gestured with a wave of his hand. He was still steaming when his phone buzzed. It was a Los Angeles area code but he didn't recognize the number. He figured it was one of the gossip columnists looking for a comment.

"What?" he answered brusquely.

"Uh, excuse me," a woman's voice said. "My name is Celina Gomez. I'm the corporate attorney for Subarctic Enterprises. I'm trying to reach Mr. Miller."

"It's me," Brock said. "What can I do for you?"

"I see I've caught you at a bad time," Celina said. "I just wanted to alert you to some photos that have appeared on a web site. I faxed over a cease-and-desist order because federal and state privacy laws were violated, according to one of my clients. A federal judge signed it and issued an injunction. It won't matter, of course. But it will stop the web site from benefitting."

"Yeah, I'm in the lobby trying to convince the slack-jawed nitwit behind the counter that this is more than her two years at Clark County Community College has trained her to deal with," Brock replied. "Do you want me to e-mail over a copy of the contract? I still have it on my girlfriend's laptop."

"That would be wonderful," Celina said. "Mr. Miller, I urge you to be pleasant with the staff there. It isn't her fault and I'm sure she hopes to resolve this without notifying anyone above her. It is Sunday morning."

"I got a frantic call from my agent, dragging me out of bed," Brock replied. "Personally, I have no problem with the people who attended the party. But my agent is worried some of the companies we are negotiating endorsement deals with might. I fear the same thing for the other players involved. I will do my best to behave myself. But if pictures of Randi or Tara pop up, I'm not sure my best efforts will be enough."

"Well, do what you can," Celina said. The guy reminded her of Adam Walters a little bit. "Please rest assured that no one from our company is behind this."

"I never suspected for a moment they might be, Ms. Gomez," Brock responded. "Can your tech wizard trace the source of the pictures?"

"Not exactly," Celina hedged. "But she is doing what she can to get a name. We're certain funds have changed hands and we're equally certain that the source of the photos has submitted information to this web site before. I will alert you as soon as we have something verified."