Page 29 of The Casting Couch

I sat back, stunned.“You’re serious?”

“Oh, I’m dead serious.And… not to be dramatic… but he just got out of prison.”

My eyes went wide.“Prison?For what?”

Before she could answer, Sister Mary Grace returned, smoothing her habit like she hadn’t just been using the same bathroom where I’d once thrown up Fireball shots after Pride.

I looked at Laura, practically vibrating with questions.

She gave me a little smirk and said quietly, “Short version?Bradley used to deal drugs.Out of Liam and Jack’s apartment, actually.So don’t trust him and keep everything professional.”

My mouth opened.No words came out.

Bradley?Mr.Sweet-and-clueless-from-our-scene Bradley?That guy was a drug dealer?

Before I could even begin to wrap my head around that, Damon reappeared with our drinks.

“Here we go,” he announced, setting them down with flair.“One club soda for Sister Act, one vodka tonic for our local dominatrix, and one whiskey for Mr.Tall, Dark, and Overthinking Everything.”

I blinked.“…Thank you?”

He winked and sauntered off, leaving me sitting there with a glass of liquid courage and several extra reasons to drink it.

I sipped my whiskey, trying to wrap my head around what Laura had just dropped on me.

Bradley.Prison.Drugs.

I mean… sure.He had a bit of a bad boy vibe, but not that kind of bad boy.More like...forgot-to-pay-parking-tickets bad.Not felony record bad.

Before I could ask Laura a hundred more questions, Sister Mary Grace chimed in like she’d been following every word.

“I don’t know the entire story,” she said, folding her hands like she was about to deliver a sermon, “but maybe give this Bradley fella a chance.Forgiveness is a thing, you know.”

I almost choked on my drink.“You’re telling me… Sister Mary Grace… that I should be charitable toward the ex-con porn newbie?”

She smiled sweetly, eyes twinkling.“Stranger things have happened.”

Laura snorted into her vodka tonic.“Yeah, like you helping me shop for bondage props.”

Mary Grace shrugged, totally unbothered.“The Lord works in mysterious ways.”

I stared down at my drink, swirling the ice.

Was Bradley really dangerous?Or just… damaged?

ChapterSeven

Bradley

Monday morning.Gray light pushed in through the cheap plastic blinds above my bed, making the cracked white paint on the hostel walls look even more depressing than usual.I was still under the blanket, propped against the wall with my phone balanced on my stomach, thumb scrolling and heart racing like I was doing something illegal.

Which, technically, I wasn’t.But it still felt like I was snooping on people who wouldn’t want me snooping.I’d spent the entire weekend with one big, messy thought loop running through my head:Will they hire me?Followed by:Do I even want them to?

The answer kept shifting.

Saturday afternoon, I was 100% convinced I couldn’t go through with it.Me?In porn?It sounded like a dirty joke.Like one of those dreams where you show up to school naked.

Then Sunday night hit, and I’d lain awake doing math in my head.Rent.Food.Jack had thrown out that number like it was nothing—what a guy could make for just swinging his dick around on camera.I kept replaying that conversation like I was studying for a test.

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