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Chapter Three

Bradley

I sat down, every muscle in my body tensed and ready to bolt. My hands clenched in my lap, sweaty and shaking, while my heart did its best impression of a trapped bird smashing against my ribcage.

The office smelled like coffee, printer toner, and whatever cheap air freshener was fighting a losing battle. The little ficus plant by the filing cabinet looked about as close to death as I felt. Its leaves were brown at the edges, drooping like they, too, were over this entire situation.

Nessa had disappeared into the next room, a door labeled Production Planning, and shut it with a firm click that somehow sounded more like you’re screwed.

For about ten seconds, there was blessed, terrifying silence.

Then…

“Are you two outta your fucking minds?!”

Her voice blasted through the thin walls like a pipe bomb. I jumped, nearly knocking the chair over in the process. My palms went slick with sweat.

“You invited him here?! After everything?! Jesus tap-dancing Christ, have you both forgotten who we’re dealing with? This is Bradley Mitchell! The human cautionary tale! The walking red flag collection! If his lips are moving, he’s lying! And if he’s breathing? Guess what? He’s lying then too!”

I winced, and the rant didn’t stop.

“Do I need to staple a copy of his arrest record to your foreheads?! Or maybe tattoo it on your asses since apparently none of you can sit down and think for five goddamn minutes!”

Another voice, muffled, calmer, tried to cut in. Jack, maybe. Too soft to make out the words.

Nessa steamrolled right over it.

“I don’t care if he walked in here juggling flaming dildos and singing the national anthem! This is a bad idea! A terrible idea! Like ‘let’s put vodka in a humidifier’ levels of bad!”

My gut twisted hard enough to make me nauseous. Every cell in my body screamed at me to get up and run. I could practically see it: me bolting for the elevator, out the door, and right back to my moldy hostel bunk, where at least nobody was shouting at me.

But my legs wouldn’t move. Not because I didn’t want to—God, I wanted to—but because somehow, this was still better than giving up. Or admitting I had nowhere else to go.

The shouting continued. More words like liability and bad influence and ruined my reputation with the owners of the apartment building.

Then silence again.

Long enough for me to imagine all three of them Googling the nearest restraining order template.

I swiped my palms against my jeans for the thousandth time and glanced at the door like it might explode next.

It didn’t.

Instead, it swung open with the full drama of a soap opera entrance, and Nessa stomped out first, her expression set to “nuclear.”

She stopped dead in front of me, hands on her hips, glaring like she was willing me to combust on the spot.

“If you so much as breathe wrong while you’re in this building…” She jabbed one acrylic-tipped finger an inch from my face. “I’ll make your life a horror movie. And not the sexy kind. The low-budget, straight-to-streaming, everybody dies in the first ten minutes kind.”

I swallowed so hard my throat clicked. “Understood.”

“Good.” She pivoted on her heel and stormed off down the hall like a one-woman SWAT team.

Then came… them.

Liam stepped out first, looking pale and nervous, like this was the last place he wanted to be.

His hair was longer than I remembered, kind of curly now, like he hadn’t had time for a proper cut.

He wore one of those faded graphic tees he always loved, but there was a tightness to his shoulders that hadn’t been there before.

Jack followed. He was… taller? Or maybe just standing straighter. His dark blonde hair was neatly styled, but there were faint shadows under his eyes. He gave me a look I couldn’t read. Somewhere between cautious curiosity, and don’t push your luck.

They didn’t sit at first. Just stood there. Looking at me like I was a live grenade someone had left on their desk.

I cleared my throat. “Hey.”

Liam gave a small, awkward nod. Jack folded his arms across his chest.

The tension in the room was thick enough to chew.

Finally, after what felt like hours, Liam moved to the desk chair across from me and sat down. Jack stayed standing, leaning against the wall like he wasn’t committing to this interaction any more than necessary.

Liam clasped his hands together like he was physically holding back every nervous impulse he had. Then he locked eyes with me, soft brown eyes I used to know better than my reflection, and said,

“Why?”

That single word knocked the air out of my lungs.

“Why…?” I repeated, like I hadn’t heard him, because part of me still wanted to buy time. As if two years wasn’t already enough of a delay.

“Why were you dealing drugs out of our apartment?” Liam’s voice stayed level, but there was hurt under it. Deep and old and still bleeding. “We could’ve been arrested, Bradley. We could’ve lost everything. You brought people into our home who… who scared me. Who scared Jack.”

Jack let out a sharp exhale but said nothing.

“I…” My throat felt dry as paper. I hadn’t planned this far ahead. Not even close. I’d spent all my energy just getting through the front door.

But lying now? After everything? After Nessa’s speech and Jack’s glare and the pure exhaustion sitting behind Liam’s eyes?

No. I couldn’t.

So I just… said it.

“I was broke.”

The words tumbled out before I could second-guess them. “I was desperate. It started in college. My scholarships barely covered tuition, let alone rent or food. My parents didn’t have anything to give me. They still don’t.”

I laughed, bitter and low, more at myself than anything. “And I was too proud to ask for help. Too stupid to admit I was drowning. I wanted to keep up. Pretend I had my shit together like everybody else. Like you guys.”

I rubbed a hand over my face, my skin hot and tight.

“And honestly?” I added, my voice shaking now.

“I hated how… embarrassed I felt about my family. About where I came from. About how broke we were. So I told myself I’d figure it out on my own.

That I’d make it work. And then one day I blinked…

and I was the guy with a backpack full of pills, coke, and then a police record. ”

Silence.

God, the silence was worse than Nessa’s yelling.

I stared at the floor, too ashamed to look at either of them.

And waited to hear what came next.

Jack was the one who finally broke the silence.

“Are you okay?” he asked.

I blinked.

Of all the things I expected him to say—rage, judgment, a polite but firm “get the hell out”—that wasn’t on the list.

“Am I… what?” I croaked, my throat scratchy.

“Okay,” Jack repeated, softer this time, like he was asking a kid who’d just fallen off a bike.

I opened my mouth to answer. Nothing came out. I shut my eyes instead, willing myself not to break apart right there in their office.

For just a second, it all came rushing back.

The three of us crammed into Jack’s dorm room, passing around cheap whiskey and laughing so hard we couldn’t breathe.

Liam ordering pizza with whatever ridiculous accents we dared him to use that week.

Me and Jack stumbling back from some frat party at two in the morning, both of us buzzed and cocky, singing along to whatever terrible song was playing from someone’s Bluetooth speaker.

Liam sitting on the floor during finals week, surrounded by color-coded index cards, swearing he was going to die of stress while we pelted him with Cheetos to cheer him up.

God, we’d been happy once. Stupid and broke, but happy.

I opened my eyes again, and everything in front of me felt heavier. More real.

“No,” I finally said, dragging the word out of my chest like it weighed fifty pounds. “Not really.”

I swallowed hard and pushed forward before I lost my nerve.

“Since I got out… it’s been rough. I can’t find steady work.

No one wants to hire a felon. I’ve been living out of this disgusting hostel, and I’ve already had to fight off one bedbug infestation and two attempted robberies.

” I forced out a bitter laugh. “My parents won’t even answer my calls.

Haven’t spoken to them since sentencing day. ”

I picked at a loose thread on my jeans, staring at it like it held the secret to surviving this conversation.

“I just…” I took a breath. “I need a job. Anything. I’ll take whatever you’ve got. Sweep floors. Take out the trash. File paperwork. Whatever.”

Jack and Liam exchanged a look.

I hesitated, suddenly remembering a very important detail that I probably should’ve addressed sooner.

“Well, you know,” I added quickly, my face flushing, “not in front of the camera. I’m not a… um… good actor.”

For half a second, neither of them reacted.

Then both of them cracked up at the exact same time.

Full-on, bent-over, shoulders-shaking laughter.

I stared at them like they’d both lost their damn minds. “What? What’s so funny?”

Jack wiped at his eyes, still grinning. “Bradley… we make porn. Being a great actor is… optional at best.”

Liam nodded, biting his lip to stifle another laugh. “The bar is literally ‘can you form coherent sentences and aim for the right body parts.’”

I choked on a startled half-laugh of my own, equal parts relieved and humiliated.

Liam sobered up first, switching back to business mode. “But seriously… behind the camera… we don’t really have anything open right now.”

I felt my stomach drop.

“Yeah,” Jack added, scratching the back of his neck. “We sort of filled our last available… uh… non-essential role when we invented a fake job for Petyr.”

“Fake job?” I repeated.

Jack grinned, almost fond. “Yeah. Dimitri, remember him? He works for us now. Security. Logistics. A little of everything, really.”

“I saw him. And… that other guy,” I said quickly, remembering the older man perched like a judgmental owl on the front desk.

Jack laughed. “That’s Petyr. Dimitri’s partner. And when I say partner, I mean… capital P, like, love story to end all love stories partner. Dimitri begged us to give Petyr a role here, so we made him the… uh… Studio Compliance Officer.”

Liam smirked. “Which is code for ‘give him a clipboard so he feels important.’”

I stared at them both, and for the first time since walking through the front door, I realized something critical.

They weren’t showing me the door.

Not yet.

Liam stood, circling around me slowly, looking me up and down like he was inspecting a used car he wasn’t sure he could afford.

I squirmed under the attention, wishing I’d worn literally anything other than my faded jeans and stretched-out hoodie.

After a moment, Liam picked up the desk phone, pressed a button, and said, “Hey Lola? Can you come to my office for a sec?”

The moment he hung up, a fresh wave of panic hit me. “Wait… who’s Lola? Should I be worried? Is this the part where you call security and have me tased? Because, full disclosure, I’m not great with…”

Before I could finish, the door opened and in she swept.

Lola.

Blonde bun piled high like a soft-serve cone, neon-pink lipstick that could stop traffic, gold hoops big enough to double as hula hoops, and a lime-green kimono with embroidered flamingos. Her perfume hit me like a citrusy punch to the face. Sharp, sweet, and absolutely unapologetic.

“Well, well, well,” she purred, giving me a once-over like I was a steak on special at Sizzler. “Who’s the sad little stray?”

“Bradley,” Liam said. “An old friend. We’re… considering giving him work.”

Her painted-on brows lifted. “Mmm. What’s he do? More importantly, what will he look like when I’m done with him?”

Jack laughed. “That’s what we want to know.”

Lola sauntered toward me, clicking her way across the room in four-inch wedges. She planted herself in front of me and ran her long, manicured fingers through my hair, her rings cold against my scalp.

I tensed immediately. “Uh, hey, what are you…”

“Quiet, sugar,” she crooned, fluffing the front of my hair like she was trying to read my aura through my split ends. “I’m working.”

Her fingers moved with shocking gentleness now, tilting my chin up, turning my face left then right like she was mentally carving me into marble.

Then she stepped back, placed both hands on her hips, and announced: “Oh hell yes.”

I blinked. “Wait… really?”

She snapped her gum with a grin. “Oh honey, with a few hours in my Sanctuary of Beauty and a little moisturizer, you’ll be an absolute stud. Trust Mama Lola.” I stared after her as she strutted out, still half-convinced I was trapped in some bizarre dream.

I cleared my throat and rubbed the back of my neck. “I mean… that’s great and all, but… I really can’t act.” My voice cracked on the word act, like even saying it was a lie. “And I’m… uh… not super comfortable with the whole getting-naked-in-front-of-a-camera thing.”

Liam walked over to his desk, flipped open his laptop, and started typing. His fingers flew across the keyboard like he was answering an urgent email. Jack stood nearby, arms crossed, one eyebrow lifted like he was in on some inside joke I was about to hate.

A second later, Liam turned the laptop toward me with a small, almost apologetic smile.

“Then you might wanna get over that,” he said.

I leaned forward, curious, then froze.

My entire body went rigid.

On the screen… was them.

Liam and Jack.

Together.

Naked.

Caught mid-motion in a… moment I had absolutely no business seeing.

My stomach dropped to my knees. “Oh, my God…”

I jerked back like the laptop was on fire, my face going up in flames.

Liam just shrugged, too tired or too over it to be embarrassed. “We’re a couple now. If we can do it, so can you.”

Jack smirked, though there was something bitter under it. “We don’t shoot anymore. Haven’t in a while. But yeah… that’s how we got started.”

His voice shifted on that last sentence. Lower, rougher, like the words cost him something.

He pushed off the wall and stepped closer, folding his arms again but tighter this time, like he was holding himself back.

“We only did porn because we were desperate for cash,” Jack spoke through gritted teeth. “After you got arrested, Liam lost his job and we didn’t have rent money. We didn’t have options.”

I flinched like he’d physically shoved me. The air in the room felt thinner suddenly, like it wasn’t meant for me anymore.

“I…” I swallowed hard. My cheeks burned hotter than they had in years. “I’m… I’m sorry.”

The words felt small and stupid, but it was all I had.

Jack just gave a stiff nod and looked away, staring at some invisible point over my shoulder like he couldn’t trust himself to keep making eye contact.

The silence stretched again.

Finally, I licked my dry lips, forced myself to meet Liam’s gaze, and asked the only question that really mattered now.

“So… how much does being on camera pay?”