The studio looms ahead, a nondescript building nestled between a furniture warehouse and an auto body shop. Morgan pulls into the private lot, parking in a reserved space near the entrance. The sign above the door simply reads "Pinnacle Productions" in sleek silver lettering, nothing to suggest what actually happens inside.
"Home sweet home," Morgan chirps, killing the engine and turning to face us. Her smile is radiant, almost maternal. "Adam, you'll stay with me on set. We have the perfect spot where you can see everything without being in the way."
I nod mechanically, my stomach a churning mass of anxiety. The donut I ate earlier sits like a rock in my gut. Lana hasn't spoken a word to me since we left the house, her silent treatment more unnerving than any argument.
We exit the car, and I reach for Lana's hand instinctively. She lets me take it but doesn't return the pressure of my fingers. Her palm is cold against mine, her eyes fixed straight ahead as Morgan leads us through a side entrance.
The interior of this studio is surprisingly mundane, polished concrete floors, exposed brick walls, and track lighting that gives everything a clean, professional appearance. Even more dull than the one from the other day. It could be any creative workspace in the city, save for the occasional framed movie poster featuring naked bodies in artistic poses.
Morgan leads us through a maze of hallways, pointing out various studios and production areas with the practiced ease of someone giving a museum tour. "And here's where we'll be filming today," she announces, pushing open a heavy door to reveal a spacious room.
The set is designed to look like a luxurious bedroom, complete with a massive four-poster bed draped in silky red sheets. Camera equipment surrounds it, operators adjusting lights and checking angles. Several people mill about, their movements purposeful and efficient.
Suddenly, Lana's entire demeanor changes. Her hand slips from mine as she breaks into a run, crossing the room with surprising speed.
"Leo, long time no see!" she calls out, throwing her arms around a tall, muscular man standing by the bed.
What the fuck?
My stomach drops as I watch my girlfriend embrace another man with such enthusiasm. Her arms wrap around his neck, her body pressing against his in a way that seems unnecessarily intimate. What strikes me most, though, is how her eyes keep darting back to me during the embrace, gauging my reaction.
The man, Leo, apparently, returns her hug with a smirk, his hands settling low on her back. He's intimidatingly fit, muscles bulging beneath a sleeveless Jak and Daxter t-shirt that looks at least one size too small. His jawline could cut glass, and his perfectly styled brown hair completes the picture of magazine-cover perfection.
"So that's your new guy?" Leo asks loudly, not bothering to lower his voice as he looks me up and down. He scoffs, the sound dripping with dismissal. "Interesting choice."
My face burns with humiliation as several crew members glance over, poorly concealing their amusement. Lana says something to him in a low voice that I can't catch, giggling in a way I've never heard before.
I stand frozen, debating about just walking away when something catches my eye. As Leo gestures dismissively in my direction, I notice a tattoo on the back of his left hand, a perfect rendition of the Triforce symbol from The Legend of Zelda, the three golden triangles arranged in a pyramid.
Without thinking, I blurt out, "Hey, you have a Triforce tattoo?"
Leo's eyes light up as he releases Lana from their embrace, a genuine smile replacing his previous smirk.
"Yeah, what about it?" he asks, his tone shifting from dismissive to curious.
"No, I just love Zelda," I explain, stepping closer despite my nervousness. "When I was a kid, I used to paint the Triforce on my hand with markers all the time. Just like your tattoo."
Something changes in Leo's expression as he absently rubs the golden symbol on his skin. The cocky facade seems to crack, revealing something more vulnerable underneath.
"Yeah, I..." he hesitates, his voice softening. "It was my best friend's idea. A few years ago, me, him, and his mom all got one together."
"Oh, that's awesome," I say, genuinely interested. "Which piece of the Triforce did you get?"
Leo frowns slightly as he stands beside me, his intimidating posture gradually melting away. The transformation is remarkable, like watching a different person emerge from within the arrogant shell.
"Well, I mean, who wouldn't want to say courage," he admits with a self-deprecating shrug. "But no, my friend needed that one. He told me I was his strength so I got power."
There's an unmistakable sadness in his eyes now, a depth of emotion I hadn't expected from him.
"Your friend sounds like a cool guy," I offer, sensing there's more to this story.
Leo nods slowly, his gaze distant. "Yeah, he really was a cool guy."
The past tense hangs heavy in the air between us. I notice Morgan watching our interaction intently from across the room, her expression unreadable.
"Was?" I ask gently.
Leo's eyes dim a little, a shadow crossing his handsome features. "Lung cancer. He found it at stage 4." He looks away for a moment, the vulnerability in his expression making him suddenly human. "I used to watch him play Zelda for hours when we were kids, so getting the Triforce was a no-brainer."
"Ah, man, that's brutal. I'm so sorry," I say, genuinely moved by his pain.
Leo lightly taps my shoulder with his fist, a surprisingly gentle gesture from someone so physically imposing. "Yeah, it was really hard. Even now, it feels hard to breathe when I think about him." His eyes study my face with an intensity that makes me slightly uncomfortable. "You even kinda look like him a little."
He sighs, visibly trying to realign himself, shoulders straightening as if physically shaking off the weight of the memory.
"I'm sorry I brought that up," I say, feeling like I've stumbled into something deeply personal.
"Not at all," Leo responds quickly, his expression softening. "I'm happy to get to talk about my old friend Mike. Not many people ask anymore."
As I sit there awkwardly while Leo seems lost in thought, I scramble for something to say to break the tension.
"I really like your shirt, too," I offer lamely, gesturing toward his tight-fitting tee.
"Huh?" Leo looks down as if he's forgotten what he's wearing. "Oh, haha, yeah. I fucking love Jak and Daxter."
"Jak and Daxter was my shit growing up," I say, surprised to find common ground with this guy. "I replayed the first game so many times I wore out the disc."
"No way! Me too!" Leo's eyes light up with genuine enthusiasm. "My mom got so mad because I made her buy me another copy."
We're both laughing when Leo suddenly glances toward where Morgan stands, watching us, her expression unreadable. Something passes between them, a look I can't interpret, and Leo's smile fades slightly.
He grabs my arm, his grip firm but not threatening. "Hey, can I talk to you for a second?" he asks, nodding toward a quiet corner away from the cameras and crew.
I follow him, confused by this sudden shift. Once we're out of earshot, Leo's expression turns serious, almost concerned.
"Hey man, are you really sure you want to be here?" he asks, lowering his voice. "I mean, this is no place for a boyfriend."
The directness of his question catches me off guard. I open my mouth to respond, but he continues before I can.
"Unless you're like a cuck or something," he adds quickly, raising his hands. "No judgments, seriously. But other than that, I really wouldn't recommend staying."
I sigh deeply, my shoulders slumping as I consider his words. Part of me wants to run out the door, but another part feels compelled to stay purely because Lana wants it.
"It's what Lana asked me to do," I finally say with a resigned shrug. "So I want to support her."
Leo studies my face for a long moment, then turns to look at Lana across the set. She's chatting with a makeup artist, occasionally glancing our way with a mixture of curiosity and something that might be anxiety. When he turns back to me, his expression has softened considerably.
"Alright, man," he nods, his voice gentler than before. "I'm sorry I was a dick earlier. I have… I…" He stutters trying to find the right words. "I don't know, but you seem chill."
The unexpected apology catches me by surprise. "Thanks, man," I say with a small smile, feeling a strange sense of camaraderie with this person who, minutes ago, I was prepared to hate.
"Just..." Leo hesitates, running a hand through his perfectly styled hair. "This industry can be rough. If it gets too much, nobody will think less of you if you step out."
Before I can respond, a balding man with a clipboard approaches us. "Leo, wardrobe needs you. We're starting in twenty."
Leo nods at the man, then turns back to me with an unexpected look of sympathy. "Good luck, dude," he says, squeezing my shoulder briefly before walking away.
I watch Leo walk away, still processing our surprisingly genuine conversation, when I feel a presence at my side. Morgan materializes beside me. Though her smile seems warm, there's a tightness around her eyes I don't quite register.
"Well, enough of that male bonding," she says, her voice carrying that familiar authoritative tone. "Come with me, Adam."
She places her hand on the small of my back, guiding me toward the far side of the set. "This is where we can watch," she explains, gesturing to two simple folding chairs positioned about fifteen feet from the main camera setup. Close enough to see everything but far enough that I won't be in any shots.
I sink into the chair, feeling like my legs might give out otherwise. From this angle, I have a perfect view of the four-poster bed where Lana and Leo will soon be... performing. My stomach twists at the thought.
Morgan leans down, her perfume enveloping me as she adjusts the chair slightly. "I'll be right back," she says, straightening up. "I just want to talk with the stars before they go on set."
"Alright," I reply, my voice sounding distant even to my own ears.
—
Morgan's point of view
I stride purposefully through the studio's back hallways, my heels clicking with authority against the polished concrete. Something about Adam and Leo's interaction has set off alarm bells in my mind. That friendly conversation wasn't supposed to happen. Leo was meant to be the arrogant ex, making Adam feel inadequate and insecure.
Instead, they were bonding over video games like schoolboys at recess. I need to remind Leo exactly what's at stake here for him.
Out of anyone to falter now, how the fuck was it Leo?
I push open the door to Leo's changing room without knocking, catching him mid-change. He's already removed his tight shirt, revealing the sculpted physique that's made him a star in this industry. He's pulling on a simple blue button-down when he notices me in the doorway.
To my surprise, Lana is already there, her arms crossed tightly over her chest, her face flushed with anger.
"Hey, don't talk to my boyfriend like that," she snaps at Leo, her voice sharp enough to cut glass. "And what the fuck was that about your friend? You never told me any of that."
Leo rolls his eyes as he buttons his shirt, his movements deliberately casual despite the tension in the room. "Because you're allergic to communication, Lana," he says dismissively, not even bothering to look at her as he speaks.
"Ahem," I clear my throat, making my presence known. Both heads snap in my direction. "Lana, can I talk with Leo for a moment?"
Leo's expression shifts subtly, a slight clench in his jaw. He's nervous, as he should be.
Lana hesitates, her gaze darting between us suspiciously before she nods. "Sure," she says coolly, moving toward the door. She pauses beside me, lowering her voice. "He's being weird today. Fix it before the scene."
"I plan to."
As soon as the door clicks shut behind her, I turn the lock with deliberate slowness, the soft click seeming to echo in the suddenly silent room.
"What the hell was that?" I ask, my voice deceptively calm as I approach Leo. "Bonding with the boyfriend? Sharing your tragic backstory? That wasn't the plan."
Leo runs a hand through his perfectly styled hair, messing it up slightly. "Look, Morgan, I just…"
"You just what?" I interrupt, closing the distance between us. "Forgot our arrangement? Forgot what happens if those videos get released?"
His face pales slightly, the confident facade crumbling. "I didn't forget," he says quietly. "But the guy seems decent. I can't just…"
"You can and you will," I cut in, reaching up to straighten his collar with a touch that's anything but gentle. "Remember our deal. You seduce Lana on camera, make it look real, make Adam believe it's real. That's all you need to do. Lana will play her role. Do not fuck this up!"
Leo's shoulders slump in defeat, his earlier warmth completely vanished. "Alright, alright," he says with a resigned sigh. "I'll do what you want."
"Be very handsy with her," I instruct, my voice dropping to a dangerous whisper. "And make sure to give Adam plenty of arrogant looks. Really sell it that you're still into Lana and she's into you."
"Okay," he nods mechanically, eyes downcast like a scolded child.
I turn on my heel and stride toward the door, satisfied with his submission. The lock clicks open under my manicured fingers, and I step back into the hallway, allowing myself a small smile of triumph.
As I walk back through the studio toward Adam, I can't help but marvel at how simple it was to gain complete control over Leo. Men are so predictable, so easily manipulated. All it took was getting him blackout drunk at that industry party two months ago, having my friend Vanessa climb on beneath him while the camera rolled, and he did the rest. The "evidence" I manufactured was flawless.
Such a perfect little puppet now, terrified of prison, of having his reputation destroyed. He doesn't even realize the video wouldn't hold up to scrutiny. He's so fucking stupid.
I approach Adam, who sits alone in his folding chair, looking beautifully conflicted. His dark hair falls across his forehead as he stares at the bed where his girlfriend will soon be with another man. I slide into the chair beside him, arranging my expression into one of sympathetic concern.
"If you need emotional support, I'm right here," I say softly, placing my hand gently on his forearm.
He chuckles nervously, the sound hollow and forced. "Okay."
His eyes never leave the bed, and I follow his gaze as Lana emerges from the dressing room, now wearing a silky negligee that leaves little to the imagination. His breath catches audibly.
"It'll be over before you know it," I assure him, my voice honeyed with false sympathy.
"I hope so."