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Pressing Matters

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Hollywood talent agent, Adam Lewis, worked on his computer in the study of the mansion he lived in, in Paradise, California. His office phone rang. Adam had Mark Antonious Richfield, the home and estate’s owner, install a separate line from the private residence for his work use. He used his cellphone more for personal calls.

“Adam Lewis,” he said as he answered it, not recognizing the caller ID number.

The manor house in Paradise was built by Mark’s deceased father, Milt Richfield. He was the owner of Richfield International, a garment manufacturing firm with offices in Sacramento, where Mark and his first husband, Steve Miller, worked. It also had offices in New York, London, and Paris.

Adam’s husband, Jack Larsen, a lawyer, also worked for the firm, which was now called Richfield-Miller International, or RMI.

“Adam! Baby!”

Adam tilted his head in confusion. “Who is this?” He had two open video-chat boxes on his computer connecting him with his LA employees, Natalie Cushman and Logan Naveah.

“Garth Ross.”

Adam winced, since this man, this reporter, had written a tell-all book about Adam’s former business partner, Jack Turner. Turner was notorious for his couch practices and abusing young male actors. He had shot himself after his dirty deeds became public.

“What do you want?” Adam didn’t care for this reporter.

“The inside scoop, what else? You live with Mark. I need info on Mark. So? I call you.”

Adam rubbed his face tiredly and peered over his shoulder. The opposite side of the room from where his computer and several other PCs were located on a long desk, were large framed photos. Mark’s modeling career in print. When his agent, Arnold Newhouse retired, he gave Mark the entire collection of stunning cologne and car manufacturing ads.

The photographs spanned the decade Mark had modeled for his trademark cologne, Dangereux. The stunning stud was topless and in leather pants.

Mark had been the reigning male supermodel for nearly twenty years. No one had taken that crown from him.

He still did a few modeling jobs, mostly for his and Steve’s new garment line for men’s fine apparel.

“I have no comment, Garth.” Adam ran his hand over his shortly cropped brown hair tiredly. He was able to see both Natalie and Logan on the phones in their office in LA.

“None? How can that be? You don’t even want to deny the fact that Alexander Mark Richfield, Mark’s first-born son, had a torrid affair with Stan Charles Richfield-Bergman, while they were on location in Denmark filming the Viking movie?”

Adam closed his eyes in grief since this story was simply too hot for the entertainment media not to bite and gnaw on.

“Adam…it’s me, Garth, you’re talking to. Tell me the facts so I can get them out there. You know how life is now. Rumors are the new gospel. You don’t want false facts to run amok, do you?”

“Why don’t you ask Mark? Huh? Ask Stan? Ask Alex?”

“I tried. They won’t take my calls. And, oh, by the way, do you have their contact numbers?”

“I can’t give you that information.” Adam rocked on his swivel chair, glancing at the framed blueprint Mark had done while working as an architect, way before he modeled. It was a skyrise office building for G&T Corporation. Mark’s former fiancée Sharon Tice and her father owned and operated it. The building was iconic, and a very beautiful part of the Los Angeles skyline.

“See? If you can’t give me a way to the horse’s mouth, I have to rely on you. Alex and Stan’s agent. So? Are the two of them still seeing each other? I wouldn’t blame Alex for ditching the LAPD dude. He’s a violent SOB.”

Adam wondered if he just hung up if Garth would kill him in another article. The dude wrote for so many entertainment journals and TV ‘news’ shows, it was hard to be rude or hang up. No doubt he’d feel the sting if he slighted Mr Ross.