Page 31 of The Casting Couch

“Well… good news.”There was a pause, like he wanted me to brace myself.“We loved the footage from Friday.You and Nico?You looked great together.Natural.”

I swallowed hard.Natural?

Liam kept going, tone bright but businesslike.“So yeah, you’re hired.”

For a full second, my brain just… stopped.

Hired.

Me.

In porn.

The words felt like they belonged to somebody else’s life.Then Liam’s voice dropped half a register, like he was switching from friend mode to producer mode.

“Listen… one thing.You’re gonna need to get camera ready before your first actual shoot.”

I didn’t know what that meant, but I knew it couldn’t be good.

“Camera ready?”I echoed, trying not to sound like I was already sweating.

“Yeah.”There was a tiny cough on the other end, like he was trying not to laugh.“Can you be at the office by noon?Lola’s gonna, uh...work her magic.”

“Lola?”

“You’ll love her,” he said, which did not sound reassuring.“She’s a legend.Bring clean underwear.”

Before I could ask what the hell that meant, Liam said, “See you soon!”and hung up.

I sat there staring at my phone like it had just betrayed me.

Noon.

That gave me less than three hours to mentally prepare for whatever nightmare “camera ready” involved.I dropped my head back against the wall and let out a long, slow breath.God help me, but this was really happening.

I threw off the blanket and grabbed my dop bag from under the bed, the same faded green one I’d had since high school.It still smelled faintly of old gym lockers and whatever off-brand body wash I’d stuffed in there last.

I grabbed a towel from my shelf, thin, scratchy, hostel-issued, and probably older than I was.Jonah-or-Jory let out a wet snore that sounded like a dying lawn mower as I slid on my flip-flops and headed for the showers.

The hallway smelled like burnt coffee and someone’s failed attempt at microwave ramen.Floorboards creaked under my feet like they were judging every life decision that had brought me here.

I pushed the door open into the communal bathroom and did my best not to gag.Even the prison bathrooms were cleaner than this.Pale green tiles cracked in spiderweb patterns.A flickering fluorescent light overhead that made everything feel vaguely like a crime scene.One shower had a busted curtain rod dangling at an awkward angle, like it was giving up on life.

I picked the cleanest stall I could find, which was like saying I picked the least disgusting dumpster.Hung my towel over the hook, shoved my flip-flops deeper onto my feet, and turned on the water.

Cold.

Then scalding hot.

Then finally...lukewarm.Sort of.

I stood there under the spray, staring at the peeling wall in front of me while the water dripped down my face and chest.

This was it.

I was really doing this.

A porn star.

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