Page 53 of The Casting Couch

I leaned toward Bradley and whispered, “If she pulls out a taser and starts talking about her ex-husband’s balls, I’m proposing marriage.”

Barbie Malibu stepped into the spotlight, heels clicking like a warning shot.She adjusted the mic and blinked into the crowd with fake innocence.Up close, she looked like a high-gloss perfume ad that had been exiled from a mall kiosk for inciting violence.

“Hi babes,” she said sweetly, voice dripping with sarcasm.“I’m Barbie.Yes, that Barbie.But don’t worry, I’m the limited-edition version they don’t sell anymore.‘Divorced & Dangerous.’”

Laughter erupted.

“I used to be a housewife on Staten Island.Three kids, two dogs, and a husband who thought foreplay was me doing the dishes faster.”She rolled her eyes.“Now I’m a recovering suburbanite.I swapped my minivan for vodka and regret.”

Bradley laughed beside me, and the sound was music to my ears.

“I was the PTA president.You know what that means?It means I organized bake sales for people I wanted to run over in the carpool lane.”

More laughs.She was a machine.

“I got a boob job after my third kid, and let me tell you, it was the worst decision ever.These things look like two stressed-out water balloons.I asked the surgeon for ‘fun and flirty,’ and he gave me ‘divorced with a Groupon.’”

The crowd roared.

I glanced at Bradley.He had both hands wrapped around his beer, head tilted back, shoulders shaking.

God, he was beautiful when he laughed.

“I don’t hate kids,” Barbie continued, eyes gleaming.“I just prefer them quiet, asleep, and belonging to someone else.”

The applause was thunderous.

“And if my ex-husband is watching this on someone’s hacked Ring cam, I just wanna say: Chad, I hope your new girlfriend is as dumb as your crypto investments.”

The crowd exploded.Candy McSlutsky herself appeared offstage in full sparkle to give Barbie a literal bow.Barbie blew kisses and strutted off like a queen, hips swaying like justice incarnate.

I, meanwhile, was dying inside.

“Next up,” Candy crooned into the mic, “we’ve got a real treat.He’s tall, he’s funny, and he’s got a killer smile.Please welcome to the stage, Nico Steele!”

My legs moved, and I’m not sure how.I walked up to the stage, my heart hammering like it was trying to claw its way out of my chest.

The stage lights hit me, and I squinted at the crowd.The mic stand was slightly crooked.I fixed it.It was crooked again.I fixed it worse.Great start.

“Hey,” I said into the mic, voice higher than usual.“So, uh… hi.I’m Nico, and I’m not nearly drunk enough for this.”

Scattered laughter.Very scattered.Like two people in the back and maybe someone coughing.

Not cool.

“Anyone else here working in adult entertainment?”I tried.“No?Just me?Great.This’ll be weird.”

A couple of titters.No full-on laughs yet.My brain screamed at me to abort.

But then I glanced down, just for a second.

Bradley.

He wasn’t laughing.He was watching.Really watching, like I mattered.

And something inside me cracked open.

Screw it.

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