Page 10 of Bound By Brielle (Crave & Cure Productions)

Quincey Parker calling.

I swipe, and lift the phone to my ear. “I’m going now, Dad,” I huff, only rolling my eyes because I know he can’t see. If I roll my eyes to his face, that earns me one of my dad’s many, many lectures.

“You tell them–” he gruffs, but I cut him off because I swear to baby Jesus I cannot hear it one more time.

“How much you pay, I know,” I sigh, still clutching the paper tightly in my hand. “I’m literally right outside the building. I’ll call you back.”

“Yes, you will,” he growls, irritation and anger rolling off him in waves. Waves that swallow me up from the other side of town.

“Yes,” I drag out. “I will. I just said that.”

“Don’t take that tone with me, Brielle. Get in there and figure it out.” And then, the ever loving father that Quincey Parker has always been, he hangs up.

“Love you too,” I deadpan to a black screen before shoving it away in my bag and continuing my righteous trek to the building. I yank open the door with more attitude than may be necessary but right now,angry is a vibe, and I’m stuck on it.

With the back of my wrist, I wipe the sweat from the top of my lip, flip my long braid over my shoulder and drop my clenched fist to the counter. The department secretary looks up, a bit startled until she sees me.

It’s not my first visit.

Or my first complaint.

“Oh,Miss Parker,” Wanda greets, though she clearly isn’t happy to see me.That’s fine, Wanda, I’m not really jumping for fucking joy to see you either. And there’s lipstick on your teeth.

“I need to see Mr. Leon.” Releasing the printed paper from my death clutch, I straighten it with both hands against the desk, finding the middle soft and damp. Wanda eyes the wet paper and I point to it. “That’s my anger soaking through.”

She rolls her eyes. Rolls. Her. Eyes.For how much my father pays!

“Mr. Leon,” I restate, giving her a free pass on the eye roll because, well, pot and kettle and whatnot.

She picks up the handset on her desk, taps a few buttons, then rolls to give me her back, whispering quietly into the phone. When she turns back to face me, she tips her head toward the hall leading to the professor's office. “Go ahead.”

Shoulders back, chin high, I take Hurricane Brielle down the hall, straight into Mr. Leon’s office. After marching through the open door, I take a seat directly in front of him, slapping the paper down on his desk.

“Hello, Brielle,” he greets, his tone soft, a knowing smile on his face. “How are you?”

I fold my arms across my chest and lean back. “Confused, Mr. Leon. Because I saw the program assignments and I have to say, I’m thinking a big mistake has been made.”

He lifts the paper from his desk, turning it in his hand to right it. Nodding while reading, he lifts his gaze, smiling. “No mistakes that I can see.”

I clear my throat, and pull my braid over my shoulder to smooth my fingers over knotted lumps. Playing with my hair is something that soothes me, something I did growing up when I was absorbing my father’s lectures. It’s stuck, and I still do it today.

Over and over, I smooth my sweaty fingers over the soft strands, gathering my thoughts. Now that I’m here, being super ragey doesn’t feel as good. Not to mention, I need a letter of recommendation from Mr. Leon before I graduate. I need to ration the anger if I’m going to stay on his good side.

“Mr. Leon,” I start, leveling my gaze at him, putting on what I hope is a small smile but could definitely pass as the look a woman gives a man before she murders him. I’d know. I watch true crime. “I believe a grave error has been made in the program assignments.” I drop my braid and tap my finger to the paper, which he’s lowered back to his desk, hands clasped together over his belly as he leans back in his chair. “It says here that I am assigned to a,” I drop my tone to a whisper, and it comes out as a quiet hiss. “Porn production company,” I finish.

I lean back and match his body language, waffling my fingers together over my belly, too. “So you can see, there’s a mistake. Because all the other program students were assigned to real directors, at real film studios. Charlie was assigned to a sister company of Paramount, and Rebecca’s mentor is Barry Jenkins.” I blink, and Mr. Leon blinks. “Barry Jenkins! He won a fuc—freakingOscar.”

Mr. Leon adjusts his pretentious half-rim glasses, pivoting in his chair to stack one leg on top of the other. “I’m aware that Mr. Jenkins won an Oscar, and I believe Rebecca will learn very much from him in their semester together.”

My nostrils flare. “Rebecca gets Barry Jenkins and I getRon Jeremyfrom Crave & Whatever.”

The pretentious glasses come off and he drops them to the desk, leaving his face bare but for a hugely unimpressed expression.Me too Mr. Leon, me fucking too.

“Cure, Crave & Cure. And Ron Jeremy was an actor, not a director and don’t do that, Miss Parker. Don’t be hateful; you’re above that.” He tips his head to the side, studying me in a way that makes my palms sweat, so I slide them down my denim clad thighs, waiting.

“Augustus Moore is the top director in the adult film industry, and the CEO of Crave & Cure. Have you heard of Crave & Cure?” he asks, swiveling side to side in his chair.

“I don’t watch porn,” I retort.

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