Page 35 of Judging Duke

I rolled over and checked my phone for the umpteenth time. Five missed calls and too many messages to count.

Most messages were from Dex, the calls were from Robbie, and as much as I hated not taking them, I couldn’t deal with him now. With a head full of my drama, little to no room remained for what I knew would be a tough conversation.

Since leaving LA and moving back to the UK, I’d fallen into a hole. With nothing to do, my old pal depression had moved in and took hold.

Often, I could throw myself into my work, but work was part of the problem. The issue I’d encountered before—call it performance anxiety—had meant that the last movies I had planned were a no-go. If a porn star can’t perform, what’s the fucking point?

I’d bowed out, citing stress and anxiety where, in fact, I couldn’t get hard, and even if I could, within minutes I was soft, leaving all of us unsatisfied, and me especially, very red-faced.

In a fit of panic-induced anxiety, I’d instructed Dex to sell my apartment early and flown home to nurse my hurt and tender feelings.

Depression had been a constant companion since Robbie’s accident. When he was down and depressed, my period of darkness usually followed. Add in my own troubles, and I’d hit rock bottom. The thoughts I never spoke to anyone about infiltrated my brain.

I knew what Robbie wanted, though, but my selfish brain wanted time to mourn the loss of my ‘acting’ career.

The doctor who had promised to get Robbie walking had failed in his attempts. It was no one’s fault, but at the realisation that this last attempt to walk had eluded him, Robbie, too, had spiralled into a cycle of hatred at himself and the world.

At times like these, Robbie would call me, telling me again how he couldn’t see the point, that he had nothing to live for any longer, and as much as I loved my brother, right now I could barely look after myself.

Feeling worthless, I threw my phone to the floor and lay back on the cloud of pillows, sinking into the softness. Life stood still, and staying here appealed to the introvert inside me, no longer wishing to see or speak to anyone.

A banging on the door startled me. Who the fuck could that be?

I didn’t have to wait long to find out, as Dex’s distinctive voice sounded.

“Simon! Open the goddamn door.”

“Leave me alone,” I croaked. I’d spoken with no one in days.

“Open the door now. I’m going nowhere until you do. I’ll annoy every one of your fucking neighbours.”

He banged again. I reluctantly dragged myself from the bed and ventured to the door.

I glimpsed my reflection in the mirror as I passed, grimacing at my appearance before slowly opening the door.

Without waiting, he barged past me.

“Jesus fucking Christ. Look at the state of you.” His nose wrinkled. “You fucking stink. Get a shower.”

“What do you want, Dex?” I followed him into the spacious lounge overlooking Liverpool city. The weather was as miserable as I felt.

“We’ve got a meeting in about an hour. You need to be there.”

“What’s it for? I’m not interested in doing anything.”

“Some film studio wants you to appear as a cameo in a movie.”

“Porn?”

“Of course. What else would it be? You just need to stand there and watch, play with your dick, give ’em a good cumshot.”

“I’m not doing it.” I slouched in the chair and closed my eyes, hoping he’d be gone the next time I opened them.

“I’m your manager. You’ll do as I say, Simon. Now get yourself showered and dressed.”

“You’re fired. I don’t need you anymore.” How many times did I need to tell him it was over?

“The fuck you don’t. I’m the only one who has your interests at heart. You certainly don’t.”

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