The Passion Agency (9 page)

In exchange, seed money for her mom was soon to
follow.

Chapter 13--Help Me

“God you are such a little slut Brea,” Lacey said
sarcastically. “The professor and the intern. That’s porn city
there.”

Donna’s only child could be a little serious, but not
necessarily about herself. She simply smiled in the face of Lacey’s
ribbing.

“I know right?” was all she could say. “The sex is
really good too. If I do the naughty student, his cock is hard as a
rock. Bam. It’s out and I am handling it like a champ.”

Brea didn’t exactly know what she was feeling. Just
like with Chris, she was playing it to the max to her close
friends. Acting like it was all fun. But inside she could feel
herself getting attached. If Chris was a remote possibility to meet
her long-term needs, a married professor with tenure and a
prominent wife was even less likely yet.

She lived very much in a fantasy world inside her
head, which was a difficult thing to understand given how grounded,
sensible, and even cynical she could be.

But her seriousness and appearance of control was
mostly an act. She was searching no different than Donna was
searching. They just happened to come to forks in their life’s
roads at the same time.

Deep down, Brea wanted a man but she didn’t have the
ability to let herself be loved by someone she actually could have.
It was a classic case of emotional self-sabotage.

The sex with Bronsky was a matter of addiction to the
feelings of power. But like her mom, she was always searching for
new ways to test the limits.

About two weeks into their relationship, she showed
up to one of his classes dressed in the same overcoat she wore the
first night they were together. It wasn’t in any big lecture hall
either. There were maybe twenty students in a standard sized
classroom. Most of them knew she was Bronsky's teaching
assistant.

She was so wispy and nerdy looking that she didn't
give off the impression she might be a sex toy for the
professor.

One person she didn’t fly under the radar with was a
student in Bronsky’s three hundred level genetics class. His name
was Prentice. The only black person in any of Bronsky’s classes at
all levels.

Prentice wasn’t likely to do better than a C, but
when it came to observing people and noticing oddities, he was all
A’s.

On Brea’s most recent visit to the class, he took a
picture with his camera phone. He was able to capture a good enough
shot and a quick investigation in the department revealed a
name.

Prentice Tanell wondered what was up. He’d seen TA’s
in classes before but none this young looking and none making such
an obvious effort to not be noticed.

One day on the last class before finals, he left a
note on Brea’s desk as he scurried out of class.

It read: “I think you are really cute. Text me” He
included phone number. Brea had barely noticed him, but she figured
it might be fun.

She texted him back that night a simple hello
apparently not knowing the damage you could do to yourself sharing
your phone number with a total stranger.

….

Donna went home from her near liaison with Malcolm
Bradley and did just as she planned. She cracked one of those Coors
Lights. It was simultaneous to that that she turned on her old
computer. She could barely wait for it to boot up.

Beauty Lies and Rachel Evans had spoken to her from
the radio and it impacted her on that true emotional level.

In essence, as Donna aged, she saw her worth diminish
socially. She saw the next generation of girls who were younger and
who wore the right clothes a certain way. Donna was jealous she
couldn’t be what she always was.

Any message that could give Donna hope for a whole
new way for people to look at what is beautiful had her
attention.

She watched Rachel’s simple before and after videos
of the power of surgically applied make up. One of them even
featured a man who was made up to look like a woman.

She came out beautiful.

The idea being that none of this is real and much of
it is off limits to people of average means. Also there was the
idea that men don’t know natural beauty because generations of them
have been raised without ever having been exposed to it. Beauty is
youth, make up, cookie cutter styles, and hiding the real you
behind a mask. It was all designed to manipulate.

Donna felt there was something big and cosmic with
this idea. She knew a big idea was what it would take to make
money.

She believed she could share such an idea and move
people to change their minds.

She didn’t know how to make money off it. Still.

It was always the same problem.

She wanted to talk to Rachel Evans.

She sent her a private message, not knowing if it
would get to her target. As Rachel pointed out at the end of her
interview on the radio earlier in the night, she wasn’t available
everywhere. No email. No Facebook. No personal blog site. Just this
video platform which she never left comments on.

“We need to see the truth and stop worshipping fake.
Show men what is beautiful.” was the description.

Donna took more time and care in putting this email
together then she did in writing cover letters to all those
prospective employers the last couple weeks.

“Rachel,

My name is Donna Casteel. I heard your interview
tonight on local radio here in Los Angeles. I think your concepts
are amazing. The beauty lie videos capture what I already knew and
many many women are frustrated by. I believe you have a powerful
message and that is clear by your nearly 2 million hits on
Youtube.

I’d like to talk to you about sharing your message in
an even more powerful way. I think we can actually change the way
people think about beauty and redefine it. It could change the
worlds of so many women who are suffering and so many men who are
suffering by chasing fantasy too.

I honestly don’t know how yet, but I know I want to
be part of spreading your message. Could you write me back so we
could talk more?

About me. I am 41 and lived all my life in Los
Angeles. I am past my prime unless I cake on the make up and even
then.

It’s personal with me. I have a beautiful young
daughter who I want to feel fully confident she can live her life
free of these burdens. She doesn’t wear makeup and she shouldn’t
have to be desired by great men.

My email is
[email protected]
.

I can’t wait to hear from you!

Donna.

Chapter 14--Trickery

Donna woke up the next morning excited about her big
idea.

It was a little like being in love except it felt
more like she actually owned this fully. Love was always her
ultimate ego steroid.

Being pursued by Chris, a pro jock with a great body
was intoxicating. The lesson that kept getting reinforced in her
mind was that she wasn’t very good at what came next in the
process.

She still believed in love. She longed for it. The
wanted the soft but firm touch of a man she was wildly in love with
and attracted to.

But life was taking her in an exciting direction. She
could feel it.

That’s why a strange text message to Donna's phone
received the next morning was another blow to the momentum she was
struggling to create.

“The professor is naughty. Check your email.”

She knew instantly it had something to do with Brea
and her job over at Loyola.

The number was not traceable.

She grabbed her laptop and plopped down on the couch.
Her email was flooded with nine messages from sources she didn’t
recognize. Each with a separate attachment.

She opened attachment on the first email. There was
Brea dropping an overcoat Donna had given her in front of a bearded
older man in a dress shirt and slacks, his hands casually behind
his head.

Donna didn’t want to look at the next picture because
she already knew.

The last attachment said “last night’s activities;
tough day on the job.”

“Brea!!!” She screamed and snarled in the same
breath. “Out here. Now!”

Brea came out in what seemed like a split-second
compared to her normal way of moving. She stopped ¾ of the way down
the hall. Her hair was in her eyes. It was Saturday and she’d
smoked with Lacey late last night. Donna was interrupting a good
mellow deep sleep

She spared her mom the attitude. She felt sort of
shook up but not disappointed that her mother, whom she now
respected more than ever, was apparently mothering
aggressively.

“The professor you work for,” Donna said in slightly
louder but much more measured tone. “Brea why?”

“Money mom,” she said without any hint of
embarrassment. “Money. He doubled my salary. It will help us.”

“Sweetie “ Donna said. “You stop it right now. No
more. I beg you. You are too young. Make your money honestly. If it
means you find another job, you find another job. I want to take
you with me. I want you part of it. We’ve been through a lot the
last couple months. We can’t get there doing things like poor
people do.”

Donna didn’t know where this was coming from, but it
sounded right and felt even better.

Brea nodded her head, stepped forward, and patted her
mom on the shoulder.

She had no intention to stop but she knew that things
would have to change in how they operated. She even sensed an
opportunity to make a little more money.

The first thing is she had to confront Prentice.

“I don’t know how you found out, but can you send me
whatever you were given?” Brea said. “I think I am being set-up. I
want to get this handled.”

Donna said nothing but forwarded the email.

Chapter 15--Find the Money

Donna felt satisfied about one thing as she got
dressed for the day. She had moved the ball forward in her
communications with her daughter. There was new respect for
sure.

Still Donna was aware that there was likely some
well-honed ability within Brea to say or do anything to win the
moment. She had a great talent to operate in secrecy.

So respect yes, but full and complete confidence and
trust? Not even close.

Donna had to block it out for the time being. She’d
just hope her daughter understood her very firm message. If nothing
else, she was experiencing a deeper sense of normalcy in their
relationship. She was the authority figure and Brea was the one
taking the orders. At least if felt right. It felt comfortable.

She knew that thinking too much about it was creating
a mental soap opera in her mind. It was distracting. Having just
emerged from what she considered two decades of distraction and
then the whole relationship with Chris, Donna was done with it all.
It was vital to her goals to not get bogged down.

She checked her messages on the Youtube account she
created last night. There was nothing from Rachel. She got her
message because it was clear it had been opened.

Donna was disappointed. She’d give it a few hours and
maybe send another

For her it was off to Compton of all places. She
didn’t know if she was going to see much over there at this plastic
surgery place Peter talked about. She wasn’t going to call. Instead
she identified the only plastic surgery clinic in Compton. It was
called the “New You Cosmetic Clinic” where you could pay as you
go.

Donna figured it was worth a look just to satisfy her
own curiosity that such a place existed.

…

In San Pedro, if you are able to afford to live there
and work in the ship channel as a simple longshoreman, you often
have a hand me down for a house. The small seaside community on the
Ocean was actually a sub-corporation of the city of Los Angeles.
This meant it was the only coastal part of a city which was
actually incorrectly associated with being coastal.

San Pedro was a melting pot in it’s citizenry
featuring a significant Italian community among many other
ethnicities who arrived generations ago to work in the largest
commercial port in the United States. The geography was likewise a
melting pot with spectacular ocean views. You would sit high on
cliffs to the west and then in minutes be deep in seedy industrial
docs to the south nearest the channel separating the community from
Long Beach.

Gigi Valano was part of this Italian community and
despite living in a family that had worldwide origins, she had
scarcely been out of the community she was born in. Only nineteen,
her days were spent rushing home after school to handle babysitting
her little brothers and sisters.

She was pretty enough to be noticed by some boys at
school. She had jet dark hair with a natural curl and deep dark
olive skin. She wasn’t in great shape but had a “cute” shape in her
barely five foot frame. Her teeth needed work but the family didn’t
have a lot of extra money. They gave their house in Pedro back to
the bank a year earlier and they all crammed into a small apartment
complex. Seven of them were packed in two bedrooms.