C4 Chapter four

The sunlight streaming through Keisha’s blinds felt unnecessarily harsh as she opened her eyes. She groaned, her head still clouded by the restless night she’d spent worrying about the callback list. She didn’t know if she’d made the cut, but the thought of finding out made her stomach churn.

A glance at her phone confirmed it was barely past 9 a.m., and the list wouldn’t be posted until noon. Three long hours to stew in her thoughts.

She rolled out of bed and stumbled into the kitchen, her apartment as quiet as the void in her mind. Keisha’s apartment was modest—a mix of thrift store finds and hand-me-downs—but it was hers. The cracked countertops, the squeaky faucet, and even the lumpy couch in the living room were reminders of how far she’d come since moving out of her parents’ house.

Pouring herself a cup of coffee, she stared out the window, the city below already alive with activity. Somewhere out there, her competition was probably just as anxious as she was—or worse, completely confident they’d landed the callback.

Her phone buzzed on the counter, jolting her out of her spiraling thoughts.

Hazel: Did you check yet?

Keisha rolled her eyes. Hazel was nothing if not persistent.

Keisha: They’re posting it at noon. Calm down.

Hazel’s reply came almost instantly.

Hazel: If you don’t call me the second you know, I swear I’ll hunt you down.

Keisha couldn’t help but laugh. Hazel’s intensity was both exhausting and endearing, a reminder that someone believed in her even when she didn’t believe in herself.

---

By the time noon rolled around, Keisha was pacing her living room, her nerves threatening to swallow her whole. She sat down at her laptop, her fingers hovering over the keyboard as she debated whether to refresh the casting website.

“It’s just a list,” she muttered to herself. “It’s not life or death.”

But it felt like life or death.

Taking a deep breath, she clicked the refresh button. The page loaded slowly, her anxiety making every second feel like an eternity.

Finally, the list appeared. She scanned the names, her heart pounding.

And there it was.

Keisha Jones.

She blinked, hardly believing her eyes. She’d done it. She’d made the callback.

Her phone buzzed almost immediately, Hazel’s name lighting up the screen.

“You got it, didn’t you?” Hazel’s voice was practically a shout.

Keisha laughed, the sound bubbling out of her like a release valve for all her tension. “I got it.”

“I knew it!” Hazel’s excitement was contagious. “See? This is what happens when you stop hiding and start showing people what you can do!”

Keisha couldn’t stop smiling, the weight of her doubt momentarily lifting. For the first time in years, she felt like she was moving forward.

---

That afternoon, Keisha returned to the coffee shop for her shift. The monotony of making lattes and cleaning counters felt different today, though. She wasn’t just a barista anymore—she was an actress with a callback.

Hazel, of course, wasted no time spreading the news to their coworkers.

“Did you hear? Our girl Keisha is one step closer to stardom!” Hazel announced to anyone within earshot.

Keisha rolled her eyes, though she couldn’t suppress her smile. “It’s just a callback. Let’s not jinx it.”

“Oh, please,” Hazel said, waving her off. “You’ve got this. I can feel it.”

Keisha’s manager, a middle-aged woman named Janet, raised an eyebrow from behind the counter. “Just don’t quit on me when you’re famous.”

“I promise I’ll give you two weeks’ notice,” Keisha joked, earning a laugh from her coworkers.

But as the day went on, the reality of her situation began to sink in. The callback was only the first step. If she wanted to turn this into a real career, she’d have to face more auditions, more rejections, and more of the industry’s harsh judgments.

And then there was her side job.

---

That evening, Keisha sat at her kitchen table, going over her schedule for the next week. Between her shifts at the coffee shop and preparing for the callback, she barely had time to breathe.

Her phone buzzed with another notification from the app. This time, the message was from a repeat client, someone who preferred discretion above all else.

Client Inquiry: Private event. Saturday night. Duration: 4 hours. Location: Luxe Grand Hotel.

Keisha sighed, her excitement from earlier in the day fading. The callback might be a step toward her dream, but her reality hadn’t changed. She still needed the extra income to pay rent and keep her head above water.

She accepted the booking, her fingers hesitating over the screen before confirming.

---

Saturday arrived far too quickly, and Keisha found herself standing in front of her closet, debating what to wear. The client hadn’t provided much information about the event, but she knew it would be high-end. She settled on a sleek black dress that clung to her curves, pairing it with simple heels and understated jewelry.

As she applied her makeup, she couldn’t shake the nagging feeling in her gut. She hated this part of her life—the secrecy, the lies, the constant fear of being exposed. But it was a means to an end, and she had no choice but to play the role.

When she arrived at the Luxe Grand Hotel, the doorman greeted her with a polite nod. She made her way to the designated suite, her heels clicking against the marble floor.

The client, a wealthy businessman named Edward, greeted her with a smile. He was in his late 50s, with a salt-and-pepper beard and a taste for expensive scotch.

“Keisha, you look stunning,” he said, pouring himself a drink.

“Thank you,” she replied, slipping into her role with practiced ease.

The event was a private dinner with a group of Edward’s business associates. Keisha’s job was simple: look pretty, laugh at their jokes, and make Edward seem more charismatic by association.

But as the evening went on, Keisha felt a familiar sense of discomfort. The men’s glances lingered too long, their compliments edged with something predatory. She kept her smile fixed, her responses measured, but inside, she felt like a performer on a stage with no escape.

And then, just as the night seemed like it couldn’t get any worse, Adrian Kane walked into the room.

Keisha froze, her heart plummeting. What was he doing here?

Adrian’s gaze swept over the room before landing on her. His expression was unreadable, but the glint in his eye suggested he wasn’t surprised to see her.

As the men exchanged greetings, Keisha did her best to blend into the background. But Adrian, of course, made his way toward her.

“Miss Jones,” he said, his tone smooth and amused. “We meet again.”

Keisha forced a polite smile. “Mr. Kane. Fancy seeing you here.”

His lips curved into a smirk. “I could say the same about you.”

She bristled at the implication in his words but refused to let him rattle her. “It’s a small world.”

Adrian studied her for a moment, his eyes sharp and probing. “I’d say it’s more…calculated.”

Keisha’s stomach twisted, but she kept her expression neutral. “I’m just here for the company.”

“Of course,” he said, his smirk deepening.

Before she could respond, Edward appeared at her side, placing a possessive hand on her arm.

“Adrian, I see you’ve met my date,” Edward said, his tone friendly but laced with subtle warning.

Adrian’s gaze flicked to Edward, his smirk fading. “Indeed.”

The tension between the two men was palpable, but Adrian eventually stepped back, giving Keisha one last lingering look before turning away.

---

The rest of the evening passed in a blur, Keisha’s nerves on edge every time Adrian came into view. By the time the dinner ended, she was desperate to leave.

Edward handed her an envelope as they parted ways, his smile warm but his eyes sharp. “You were wonderful tonight, Keisha. As always.”

“Thank you,” she said, her voice steady despite the unease bubbling inside her.

As she exited the hotel, the cool night air felt like a relief. She hailed a cab, sinking into the back seat and letting out a shaky breath.

Adrian Kane was becoming a problem. A big one.

---

Back at home, Keisha changed into sweats and curled up on the couch, her mind racing. Adrian’s presence at the event wasn’t a coincidence—she was sure of that. But what did he want from her?

Her phone buzzed with a text, and her heart sank when she saw the name.

Adrian Kane: We need to talk.

Keisha stared at the message, her pulse quickening. Whatever Adrian wanted, she had a feeling it wouldn’t be good.