So last night I'm at 507 Main in Belmar. Mid-conversation with a pool guy--
"So, I have this house, and everyone who comes in to look at it asks, 'Can we put a pool in' and there's an 8- foot retaining wall, not much of a yard. Can they do it?" I ask the pool store owner that I've just discovered.
He starts to answer-- but a random bar Creep-o sneaks in with an "I'm sorry to interrupt, but I have to talk to you."
We introduce ourselves, pool guy exits.
"So what do you do Andre?" I ask.
There is always something interesting about every single person that you meet. And I am always determined to find out what that is. Or, I lie for fun, say my name's Mildred and then I'm entertained for like five minutes while my friends evesdrop and laugh.
Yes, even if they're strangers at the bar.
So I instantly launch into my pre-scripted interrogation.
"What do you do Andre?"
He looks around sheepishly, "I do porn."
"Oh yeah? Tell me about it. And WTF are you doing in Belmar?"
"Well. I'm from L.A. visiting a friend, and I do pornography."
We stare at each other for an awkward moment.
"I work in Hollywod," he offers.
"What kind, like photography, or videos or what?"
"Well we do both," he says, "But we sell it to distributors, who market it. We're just producers."
"Have you done anything famous that I'd know?" I ask.
He gives me a funny look, "I don't know, why? Do you watch a lot of porn?"
Kristen, who's actively monitoring the conversation, becomes worried, and steps in to rescue me.
"Lee, you want to come with me to get another beer?" she asks.
Totally-- the awesomest friend ever for recognizing a Creep-o and for being on top of it. But I was interested, and it's not every day that you meet a porn producer, or a guy who lies as glibly, so I say to her...
"I'm okay. This is Andre. He produces porn."
She looks at him.
She looks at me.
"I know that's why I came over to help you," she says.
He seems uncomfortable, so I ask him, "So how much do you pay your girls?"
"We pay $100,000 for anal," he says.
"What?!"
"Well that's what we specialize in," he says. "We only do anal porn."
Kristen exits.
"Do you have a card?" I ask. "Not because I want to do porn, but just because I think you're lying."
He fishes through a pocket. "I actually do have one," he says, flicking out a clean simple-looking white card.
Ohmigod he actually has a business card, I'm thinking.
I take it.
But I was expecting one with XXX on it and Tila Tequila bent over, something more like those Vegas-style cards they tick out at you on the streets.
Kristen comes back over. "Lee, we're going out for a cigarette," she says. "I think you should come..."
"I'll be out in a minute," I say.
"So $100,000? Really?" I ask. "Why so much? A hooker's like $100 bucks."
"It's really hard to find hot girls who do anal. Especially if they bend over," Andre says. "And we try to use professional talent, so it gets expensive, especially if we're on location."
I'm over this conversation.
"Uh huh. Well I'm going to go out for a cigarette," I tell him.
"So if you're interested, you should give me a call," he calls out.
Leanne exits.