Read Turning It on (Red Hot Russians) for Free Online Page A

still looked damned good.
    The fans lined up seemed to agree. Most were men, but there were a smattering of women and even a few preteens who must have discovered the old
Somerset High
series in reruns. Alison Michaels still had an audience, and a demographically diverse one at that. The suits at the Xposé Network would be pleased, and above all, Eric wanted the suits to be pleased.
    To the left of the platform was a table with a stack of plastic-wrapped posters rolled into tubes. Eric once had a copy of that very poster on his bedroom wall. Alison in a red bikini, lying on her back on a surfboard. She was still trading on her decade-old image as a teenage temptress, but how much longer could she keep it up?
    Last Fling
could change her life.
    He had traveled from Miami to Chicago, his last stop before jetting back to LA. Now that Jack and Hannah were on board, the show was coming together nicely. The Russian stripper’s signed contract was in his briefcase, as were those from the rest of Chris and Tammy’s invitees. His co-executive producer was working on Jack and Hannah’s list of last flings, and Alison was the final piece of the puzzle.
    Piece of cake. Eric glanced at his watch. It was just a little before seven o’clock, and he might even be finished here in time to catch the red-eye.
    His phone buzzed in his pocket. The incoming text was from Jack. Should I get an agent now?
    An agent? Eric frowned. It was great that Jack was so eager, but signing with a talent agent might be jumping the gun a bit. He and his old friend needed to have a talk, but right now, there was more pressing business at hand.
    Alison smiled an invitation at the next two fans in line who climbed the three steps to the elevated platform where she stood. One of the men was at least six feet tall, and wore a Hooters T-shirt. “Why you’re just a lil’ bitty thing, ain’t you? Now smile pretty, while my buddy takes a pit’cher.”
    His booming voice had a noticeable slur. He moved behind Alison, grabbed her and jerked her back against his hips. Her lovely face registered shock. “Sir, I’m sorry but you’re not allowed to—”
    “Like hell I’m not. I paid five bucks to stand in this line,” the man said, as his friend, who wore a carelessly buttoned shirt and had a comb-over, fiddled with a digital camera. “Now shut up and hold still.”
    Eric glanced toward the security guard’s post. Damn. The guy must be in the john. The bony old woman selling posters would be no help. Neither would the two twelve-year-old boys and their mom in line in front of him.
    “Please let go of me.
Now
.” Alison tried to pry the man’s big hands loose, but he must have outweighed her by a hundred pounds.
    The man laughed and his hands moved higher on her body, closer to her breasts. “I think she likes me, don’t you, Ray?”
    The guy with the camera chuckled.
    Eric’s heart pounded. Should
he
do something? The guy was big, and had a friend with him. Even though the friend didn’t look like much, it was two against one. Eric was no good in a fight. If he intervened, these two would beat the crap out of him, he would end up in the ER and this whole damn trip would be wasted. The suits would be pissed, his coproducer would be pissed and Eric would—
    “Goddamn it! You hurt me, you little bitch!”
    The big guy had let go of Alison and held his cupped hand to his chest, as if wounded. Red-faced and outraged, he towered over her, shouting into her face. “What’d you do to me? Swear to God, if it’s broken, I’ll see to it you get worse!”
    She stood her ground and appeared unafraid, as people in line murmured uneasily. The cameraman tugged at his friend’s sleeve and the pair left. Once they were gone, Alison let out a breath. She smoothed her hair and tugged her bikini top back in place. When she turned to face the line again, she flashed a dazzling smile.
    The boys in front of Eric clambered up the steps to the platform. “Whoa, what’d