Page 79 of The Casting Couch

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The second we stepped into the Boys On Film lobby, the chaos of the day only got worse.

Petyr, clipboard clutched in his hand like it was a crucifix, popped up from behind the reception desk like a gopher who smelled a scheduling conflict.“Excuse me?Hello??You can’t just… Oh.Nico!Bradley!”

“Emergency payroll run,” I said, breezing past him like I was talent, director, and studio manager rolled into one.“Bradley didn’t get his check earlier, and we’ve got a very...motivated creditor on our heels.”

“Hi,” Riley said dryly, baring her teeth at Petyr like a hyena about to steal dinner from a lion.

Petyr blinked.“Is she talent?”

“She’s staying here,” I said, gesturing toward the lobby couch.“Reception area only.Company policy.”

Riley snorted and pointed a leather-clad finger at Bradley like she was issuing a curse.“Hell no.Until I’ve got my money in my hand, I’m staying glued to this asshole’s side like duct tape.”

“Visual,” I muttered.“Thanks.”

Bradley sighed the sigh of a man whose soul had simply exited stage left.

We kept walking.

The three of us made our way down the studio hallway like the world’s worst conga line.Me in front, full of fake confidence and silent panic; Bradley in the middle, moving like a broken Roomba; and Riley bringing up the rear, her boots stomping out a rhythm of doom.

We passed the editing bay, and I clocked it too late.

On a massive wall-mounted monitor was Bradley.Glowing.Shiny.Glazed.Kneeling on that white tarp from earlier.Mouth slightly open.And getting…

“Oh my god,” Riley barked, skidding to a halt.“What the fuck is this place?!”

I winced.

She pointed at the screen, eyes bugging.“Is that you?!”

Bradley didn’t even blink.“Yeah.”

“I always thought you were a perv,” she said, like she was disappointed he hadn’t robbed a liquor store instead.“You disgusting little freak.”

He didn’t flinch.“And yet here you are, following me through a porn studio for your payday.So, who’s the genuine freak?”

Oop.

I almost high-fived him.But I was too busy making sure Riley didn’t lunge.

“Don’t talk back to me,” she growled.

“Don’t insult my boyfriend,” I shot back.

Bradley’s head whipped toward me.Riley narrowed her eyes.

“Boyfriend?”she said, like the word offended her.

“I—” I opened my mouth, but just then—

“Nico!Oh my god!”

Moira.

She and Nessa appeared at the end of the hallway like glitter and attitude had spawned a buddy cop spin-off.Nessa, red curls bobbing, stopped short and clocked Riley.Her eyes lit up like a cat seeing a pigeon with a broken wing.

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