Chapter One
NINA
Music played from the speakers of my car, but cut off abruptly.
At least, I thought it did. It was hard to focus. The engine wasn’t running now, because my keys were clenched in my fist, and I stared at the office building beyond my windshield.
The single story building was small and unassuming. Faded shingles wrapped along the roof, and the aluminum siding was worn. A few wayward weeds poked through the cracks in the broken sidewalk, but otherwise the place was in good shape. The sign on the glass doors had a logo and hours. The studio looked professional enough, much like any other office business. How many people knew what really went on behind those doors?
Deep breath. You can do this.
I tamped down the anxiety in my stomach and got out of my car. I had to lock it with the key because the car was twenty years old. Hell, the piece of shit was almost as old as me, but I shouldn’t complain. It still ran, and it was free. Well, except for the bottle of coolant I had to put in it once a week. I couldn’t afford to get the slow leak repaired. Thankfully, it had made the trip from Hammond, Indiana up to Chicago without an issue.
It was difficult to swallow my breaths as I teetered on my unaccustomed heels toward the studio. God, I needed a drink to calm my nerves. Even though I wanted this, it was still a huge step forward and one that couldn’t be undone. The internet made things forever.
I placed a sweaty palm on the bar across the door and pushed it open.
The woman behind the desk glanced up. Her evaluating eyes peered directly into me, right past the blonde highlights I’d gotten last week, the spray tan, and the acrylic nails. I’d done all I could to make myself look the part.
Nina Hale, ready for stardom.
The office matched the outside. There was a large board with schedules written on it hanging on the back wall, and headshots pinned beside it. Computers, phones, fax machines. Everything was businesslike, even down to the desk clutter.
The skinny woman, who looked to be in her late forties, had brown hair with bangs, and just the right amount of makeup to look trashy-hot. Her red lips pulled back into a smile, but it was guarded.
“Are you Nina?”
I forced a warm, friendly smile. “Yeah.”
“You don’t look like your pictures.”
Fuck. Fuck! We’d spoken on the phone, and she’d been clear that if I didn’t match the pictures I submitted, they’d send me home immediately. “Uh, I changed my hair, but—”
The woman held up her hand, cutting me off. “You look even better. You mind?” She spun her finger in the air, asking me to turn.
I tried not to wobble on the heels when I did as asked.
When I came back around, she was grinning. “Well, damn, girl. Aren’t you something? I’m Kimberly.”
I let out a relieved breath. “Nice to meet you.” I bent over her desk and shook her outstretched hand.
Kimberly’s gaze drifted beyond my shoulder, and then the door behind me creaked opened. I turned once more—
Oh my God.
The guy who stepped inside melted the panties I wore beneath my dress. He had that cocky frat boy look going on, a t-shirt stretched tight over his upper body, leaving nothing to the imagination. I could see how much this boy liked to work out. Jeans slung low on his hips and a baseball hat was turned backward, not shielding his gorgeous face.
He was the kind of guy who occasionally hit on me at the bars. I’d gone home with some of them, even let a few of them fuck me. But I’d learned they weren’t interested in anything but pussy, and once they’d had it, it was time for them to move on.
This boy had an easy smile, which faded the edge of the cockiness just enough so I worried I might swoon like a fucking idiot. Was he the other talent? My heart lodged in my throat, clogging my ability to speak.
“Hey, Scott,” Kimberly said.
“Hey,” he echoed back. His gaze shifted my direction, starting at my feet and working up. He seemed to have no shame about the way he was drinking me in, and it made the nerves rattle harder in my belly.
“Scott, this is Nina,” Kimberly said. “It’s her first time.”