Page 43 of The Casting Couch

Iwasn’t scheduled for anything else today, which meant one thing: freedom.Sweet, beautiful, no-lube-needed freedom.No studio lights, no body oil, no terrible dialogue I had to deliver while holding a plank position.

I leaned against the front desk like I had nowhere better to be, which was a lie, but a cute one.Petyr was scrolling on his phone, probably looking at tweets about union strikes or articles on OSHA violations.Dimitri had a sudoku book open, pencil tapping against the counter like it was a metronome set to “mildly annoyed Russian.”

“Another thrilling day in adult entertainment customer service,” I said, grinning.“Tell me, gentlemen… when you dreamed of escaping Soviet oppression, is this what you pictured?Lube shipments and call sheet drama?”

Petyr snorted.“Back then, I dreamed of eating a sandwich without standing in a line for three hours.”

“Dream big,” I said.

Dimitri didn’t look up from his puzzle.“At least this job comes with free coffee.Even if it tastes like sadness and broken promises.”

I laughed.They were both like that—sharp, dry, impossible to rattle.They were also disgustingly in love.It had been what, decades now?Since before I was born, probably.Every time I caught them sneaking little glances at each other or making dirty old man jokes, part of me wanted to roll my eyes… but a bigger part of me just… wanted.

I wasn’t used to that feeling.Most of the time, I was perfectly fine just floating.Hookups, jokes, nights on stage with a mic in my hand, making people laugh so they didn’t notice I was deflecting my loneliness like a human pinball machine.Love was for other people.People with stable home lives and functional trust issues.

But watching Dimitri scribble in his sudoku while Petyr tilted his phone toward him to share some meme, and seeing the way they smiled at each other like it was all still new?Damn.I wanted that.Someday.Maybe.

If I didn’t die of sarcasm poisoning first.

I was about to say goodbye and head out when the phone on the desk rang.Dimitri picked up, still holding his pencil like he was ready to stab something if this was another spam caller.“Boys On Film, how can I direct your… oh.It’s you.”His whole tone shifted.“Yes, sir.He’s standing right here.”Then he held the receiver toward me like it was radioactive.

“It’s the boss.”

I blinked.“Jack?”

Dimitri nodded.“Da.”

I grabbed the phone, a little confused.Jack never called me directly unless it was about a scene.“Nico Steele, local legend, speaking.”

Jack’s voice crackled on the line.“Cute.Listen, I need you to come to the production meeting.Conference room.Ten minutes.”

I frowned.“Production meeting?Why?I’m not a producer.Or a director.Or even emotionally stable enough to be in that room.”

“You’ll understand when you get there,” Jack said.Then he hung up.

I lowered the phone slowly.“Well.That’s not ominous at all.”

“Good luck,” Petyr said, already back to doom scrolling.

Dimitri winked.“If there are bagels, bring me one.”

I headed toward the conference room, curiosity buzzing in my chest like a bad caffeine hit.This was weird.What did Jack want me there for?Was I in trouble?Was I getting fired?Promoted?Canceled?

Right as I turned the corner near the makeup suite, I almost collided with… oh no.

Bradley.

He was limping like a war survivor.Moving like every joint hurt.And his face… Jesus.The area around his eyebrows was an angry, blistering red.Like he’d lost a fight with a glue gun.

I winced in sympathy.“Dude… you okay?”

Bradley just shook his head, slow and defeated.His eyes were wide and glassy, like he’d just seen the face of God, and it was wearing a waxing apron.

“Eyebrows?”I guessed, nodding at his scorched forehead zone.

He gave me a barely there nod.His mouth opened like he wanted to speak, but no words came out.I wanted to hug him.Which was new.Physical affection wasn’t usually my default setting.But there was something about the way he looked right then.Like a kicked puppy who’d been dumped in a rainstorm, that tugged at something soft in my chest.

Before I could act on the impulse, he mumbled, “I’m supposed to meet Jack and Liam for… something.A meeting.”

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