Page 5 of The Casting Couch

And honestly?It wasn’t the worst start to freedom.

Better to have a parole officer who blushes than one who breathes down your neck.And hey, she might’ve been a woman, but compared to Marvin, I’d give her a handsy any day of the week.

Two more guards stepped into the office, breaking the moment.

“Time to go,” one said.

I stood, awkward and unsteady but free, and followed them out.

From the exercise yard on the way to the gate, I glimpsed the elegant apartment building where me, Jack, and Liam once lived together.

The city looked the same, but I felt like a ghost wandering through it.

When we reached the front gate, the heavy metal doors swung open.

The sunlight hit me like a shock, bright, harsh, and completely unfamiliar.

I took a step forward, heart pounding in my chest.

I was free.

“What the fuck am I going to do now?”

ChapterOne

Nico

“Cut!”

Laura’s voice cracked across the set like a whip.The overhead lights buzzed, the giant box fan in the corner kept humming like it had a personal vendetta, and somewhere behind the camera, Moira was snickering loud enough for me to hear.

Laura stomped onto the set with that exasperated little march she did when she was two heartbeats away from losing her mind.Her high ponytail was frizzing at the edges, and she had a smudge of eyeliner under one eye like she’d rubbed her face sometime around hour five of this nonsense.

She pointed a French-manicured finger at Holden.Well…Bob.Real name: Bob Hildebrandt.Stage name: Holden Alcock, because branding is a cruel god.

“Holden,” she said, hands on her hips like a furious school principal, “I know this is your last day working for us, but I need you to dial up the passion.Watching paint dry while someone read a tax manual out loud would be sexier.”

Holden, lying on his back on the rented IKEA bed, gave her a lazy thumbs up.“Got it, boss lady.”

Boss lady.Jesus.

I sat back on my heels, still between his legs, and fought the urge to roll my eyes so hard they’d fly across the room.I liked Laura, and most of the people here.But Holden?No.I didn’t like Holden.I didn’t dislike him enough to wish him dead, but I wouldn’t send flowers to the funeral.

I mean…he was nice.Sort of.In a “damp washcloth” kind of way.Pleasant.Forgettable.Flexible to an almost concerning degree.Like, circus contortionist flexible.I once watched him scratch the back of his head with his own foot during a stretch.Not cute.Not sexy.Definitely not the kind of thing I needed to picture when I was trying to fake my way through another afternoon of studio lighting and organic coconut oil.

But hey—silver lining?After today, I’d be back to solo scenes until they found me a new partner.

Or three.

Laura clapped her hands twice.“Okay!Reset positions!Nico, on top.Holden, you’re on the bottom.Let’s finish this.”

I sighed, repositioned myself, and leaned over Holden with all the fake bedroom eyes I could muster.The AC kicked on, rattling the ductwork above us.The smell of lube, sweat, and cheap vanilla-scented air freshener filled the studio.

“Action!”Laura called.

We started again.

Holden moaned like a man auditioning for a haunted house job.Long, drawn-out, and about as natural as botched Botox.

---