Chapter 1 - I Dream of Hollywood
-April, 2019-
Koda was so nervous he felt sick. Sitting in the waiting room for the modeling gig he was applying for was akin to torture, and at this stage of his day, he was heart hammeringly tense.
Simply straining to listen for his name to be called was maybe the most trying moment of his entire life to date. Worse, there was no distraction good enough to keep his spinning thoughts distracted while he tried to be patient that morning.
Koda peered around at the other hopefuls there and couldn’t help but eye over some of the competition.
He saw a lot of beautiful people, ranging from short, delicate Os to tall, strong-looking, if stick-thin Alphas, all guys ranging from his own age of probably around seventeen to about twenty-one.
To be fair, the casting call had been pretty broad. The agency was looking for all three genders for various Winter wear options, and it was…God, but it was thrilling if scary. Hopeful, though, because all Koda could think was that he just had to be good enough to be one of three to be picked. All he had to do was be better than the other Os there, and glancing around, he wanted to believe he was.
He wanted to believe that, but dear Christ, some of these other delicate beauties were unbelievably glorious. Every race, every conceivable look, from the coveted high couture androgyny, to the femme fatales, the boys next door…
Koda shut his eyes and sucked in a deep, steadying breath.
He was better than this.
He was.
Doubt was the first sign of self-defeat, and that he had learned after years and years of working in a world where you were judged solely by your looks, your smile, your body.
There was always someone prettier than you, but if you brought more than just looks to the table, if you could give it all and do it better than your competition, nine times out of ten, the job was yours.
That whisper of doubt still crept in, though, no matter what mantra he chanted to himself that day. It stood that this wasn’t a fucking beauty pageant. This wasn’t some low-rent commercial for a local dental clinic, or even a five-second cameo spot for a name-brand toothpaste commercial.
This was Hollywood, and it was all about big money, big potential, and connections, trying to get attention from unimpressed people who saw the best of the best every single day.
If Koda got this, it would be his first successful casting since his lucky break in the toothpaste commercial two years back.
He had been fifteen then, and for two years in between then and now, he had filled his time with High School, but also doing pageants and small-town Iowa commercial spots as the crown winner of the Iowa Springs Grand State Pageant. Stupid things like showing up at carnivals, or riding in the Thanksgiving parade through Ames and Sioux Falls. He had cut the ribbon at a new car dealership and did his little stints in magazines and newspapers touting and gushing over him as Iowa’s first male O to ever win the competition.
It was a good bit of experience for his age, especially, but that had been in Iowa and a handful of other corn-husker states, not Hollywood.
Here, everyone was beautiful, top tier, perfect looking. He had found out swiftly that he wasn’t the one who turned heads, but instead, he was only one of many who turned heads every day.
It was intimidating and was making him screamingly nervous while he waited for his time to shine with the casting director.
…Hopefully.
Simple process though. He’d go in, strike some poses, give out his speech, and then leave the casting director with his headshot and contact information for his manager, aka, his Uncle.
Unlike him, his uncle was not so concerned.
The man wasn’t on the hotseat first of all, and unlike Koda, his mother’s brother, Jeremy had been a local for the last twenty years. It was pretty clear he was over being impressed by the flash and preening lovely people around him.
He was on his phone, leg crossed over a knee, scrolling through IG while he waited beside Koda like it was all just another day on the farm. He was a Low-T Beta and thus wasn’t nearly as starry-eyed and influenced by the lush scents some of these folks were giving off.
Koda kept his eyes busy, gripping his little manila folder anxiously with said headshots and resume of experience, and found his eyes perusing the woman behind the counter.
Occasionally, the white-haired woman would get a call on her landline, and then she’d call a name after peeping a little higher over the high barricade of her curved desk. The short wall partition encircling her kept her comfortably separate and apart from the milling patrons, and to get to the lovely hall beyond, you had to get past her. It was as if she were a gatekeeper for the wonders of potential success harbored down the hallway beyond.
The only other thing other than the sign-in sheet stuck on its clipboard on her sleek partitions countertop was a singular white orchid in bloom, its lush green leaves healthy, well-tended, and very starkly just there on the otherwise barren landscape.
Koda had no idea why, but he felt a little sorry for it. The orchid looked lost, like it would have been far happier thriving in a lush greenhouse environment with more like it, blooming in thick, anonymous clusters.
…Or maybe he was just homesick and projecting.
No sooner had he thought that than the woman’s sleek little bob popped up and she called, “Koda Parks?”
His stomach dropped, his throat tightened, and Jeremy glanced up and offered a mild smile of encouragement. “Go get ’em.”
“Thanks.” Koda was almost pale with his terror. He stood, smoothing down his very fashionable blouse printed with tiny pink and blue daisies, rubbing a clammy palm over the pale, soft fabric of his jeans, before he went to flash a smile at the middle-aged woman at the desk. “Hi. I’m Koda.”
She glanced up and offered him a mild curve of lips that could have meant anything and nothing at all before she pointed him back. Koda glanced over in time to see a very disappointed-looking individual coming down the hall with a quick, clipped stride, brushing under his eyes while he hightailed it for the lobby.
The other guy was teary when he strode out swiftly, flushed, and looked upset, and he didn’t look at anyone else while he hit a fast walk, head raising before beelining for the door with his folder still in hand.
Obviously, he hadn’t had the look they were looking for. Considering he was a tall, leggy, rail-thin beauty, Koda was even more anxious than he had been seeing him depart in that disappointed huff.
“It’s the fourth room on the left, Koda. Mr. Michael is handling the casting today.” She perked at him. “Usually Mr. Michael is too busy to do it personally, but this is a big gig, and he wanted to overlook all the candidates personally.”
Koda went round-eyed and instantly was almost faint with terror.
Torrance Michael was not just a casting director, which was what Koda had thought it would be today, maybe a photographer or two for a quick photo sesh.
No. Mr. Michael was the owner of Michael Modeling Studio Inc.; he was the man who didn’t handle just day-to-day jobs, but actually contracted in-house models as an Agent.
Never had news shocked Koda so much.
He nodded hurriedly, kept it all off his face, and turned with a sinking pit in his belly the whole walk down the hall.
Koda felt like he was walking to the guillotine, and when he found the door, his hand was shaking when he hit the latch on the sleek handle and pushed the door in.
What he did not expect was to find not only Torrance Michael inside, but he was with another man, probably mid-thirties. The guy was sleek, in designer threads that feigned a casual look. He looked tousled, handsome, and youthful, especially considering the rampant Botox that dominated the Hollywood scene, but if this brunette guy had had it done in the past, it was a good needle job.
Torrance, himself, was a titan of a man. Clearly an A if the sickly sweet scent of something reminiscent of cotton candy was any indication. Not Koda’s favorite scent profile, but not the worst he had caught wind of.
Torrance was definitely in his late thirties, with a wave of coiffed blonde hair; he was exceptionally fit, in sleek fit black slacks, casual black loafers, and a very expensive weave of white cashmere sweater that was all but painted over his deep chest.
He had that fake rich guy kind of a tan, one ear was pierced with a diamond, and it perfectly matched the white gold, blinging drip encrusting his Rolex.
The man looked so high-end from cut to couture, Koda had never felt like such a poor kid from Iowa.
And as soon as Koda opened the door, both men looked at him, and he wasn’t sure what the look that they hit him with was all about.
The dark-haired younger guy gave him a slow once-over that felt like he was being dissected, and Torrance’s eyes sharpened while a slow smile of intrigue curled over his lips.
“Hi. Come on in.” He waved him inside, and Koda hurriedly slapped on a smile and slipped in, stomach squeezing like he was about to be sick. “I’m Torrance Michael, and this is our in-house photographer, Milo Laurent.”
“Bonjour.” Milo betrayed himself at once with both the accent and greeting, no question about it.
Koda shut the door and nodded. “Hi. I’m Koda Parks. They said to just bring the headshot and stuff back here, right?”
“Sure, that’s fine.” Torrance held a hand out for it, and Koda had never been so anxious when he hustled over and passed the folder into the man’s large hand.
As soon as he did the handoff, Torrance took it behind a lovely maple table, sat in a rolling chair, flopped it down, and motioned to the padded stool directly ahead. “So, we’ll make this pretty swift, Koda. Milo has a simple backdrop set up.” He motioned over to a screen in pale gray against the back wall, with a trio of standing spotlights set at various angles for lighting. There was a high wooden stool there, and from what Koda knew, it was pretty SOP. “He’ll grab a few posed shots, and we’ll see how you photograph.”
Koda perked and smiled at Milo’s bright blue eyes. “Okay. That sounds good.”
Milo patted the professional-grade camera on the table lovingly. “This will be fun, no?” His eyes swept Koda again before his eyes creased on his flushing face. “Th’ camera loves beautiful people, and you, Koda, are stunning.”
Koda sort of paused over the blatant comment, but did his best to shrug it off, smiled nervously before Torrance’s musing voice snapped his wide eyes back his way.
“Seventeen, huh?” Those crisp green eyes flicked up under his arched brows with sweeping assessment, and Koda couldn’t stop his nervous knee-jerk reaction from kicking in.
He beamed like a sunflower and straightened up: Pageant Queen until the end of his life, it would seem.
Speech time.
“Yes, but I’m four months from being eighteen, and my Uncle lives here. I’ve been staying with him while making the transition from Iowa, so I’m available and local now, too.” He turned up the wattage under that considering stare-down. “I’ve been doing pageant circuits for a long time, so I’m aware of the long hours required some days, plus I’m finishing my Senior year in an online capacity.”
Please.
Inwardly, he pleaded the word at this man, and barely refrained from batting his lashes.
Torrance straightened up and then glanced back down at his file while Milo sort of smiled to himself and picked up his camera in expectation.
“Pageant Winner. I see you took the state title, and first on country wide pageants all over the US. How long have you been playing at being a princess?”
Koda sort of winced at that descriptor, but didn’t lose his easy smile. “My mom started putting me in pageants when I was four, sir. I paused school briefly to do the winners circuit after I won the crown, and right before that, I did a commercial for Crest.”
“I see this.” Torrance sat back and sighed, eyes flicking over Koda with some series of thoughts Koda couldn’t easily decipher.
Koda perked eagerly, willing this man to look at him in a favorable light. He wanted to make Torrance’s eyes bleed with how bright he could shine.
“Modeling is highly competitive and emotive, Koda.”
“Yes’sir. It’s why I’ve been in theater and dance since I was seven. My mother wanted me to have a variety of skills to bring to any pursuit I applied myself toward.”
Please, please, please.
Torrance chuckled, and Milo turned to lean against the table, eyes flicking over Koda from head to toe.
“Well. You’re enthusiastic, I’ll give you that, but Koda.” He exhaled and shook his head, eyes apologetic. “Sweetheart, you are stunning, obviously. You have to know that. You have a very…” Torrance eyed him over and rolled his hand, “Fresh, very uniquely beautiful look.”
Truly, Koda did. The young man was stunning, taller, around five eight, and a willowy, perfect, curvaceous little bombshell. His dark chestnut hair was perfectly waved, his pale skin honey-hued and very opposing to the many ultra-tanned faces that had been coming their way. The soft pout of lips was all but made to break a man at the knees, and those eyes?
Languid, sultry, dark-lashed, and chocolate brown with a perfection of sleek bone structure that was unbelievable, especially at seventeen.
Not a pimple, not a fucking freckle, and Torrance would be the first to admit Koda had some kind of je ne sais quoi about him that promised versatility, whether sensual or boy next door, wholesome or vavoom at the drop of a pin.
“You’re probably exactly what I would cast—” He said it with a tone full of lament, but sat back with a beleaguered exhalation, “But, sweetheart, this is an adult industry at this level, with big boy expectations.” Torrance pouted a touch at those suddenly crestfallen eyes.
Milo cleared his throat, examining his camera before he suggested slyly, “Perhaps you judge so soon, Torrance.” He looked up and flashed a rather predatory smile at the youth so clearly trying to keep his spine erect. “I’m sure Koda can be very adult if asked, oui?”
Koda heard some slip of tone there, some dark tenor in the man’s accent. He hesitated at that red flag warning waving off in the atmosphere, but God, he was suddenly haunted by that elusive “might”.
He nodded eagerly and turned dark eyes hopefully back to Torrance Michael. “Mr. Michael, I am a team player. I know, I know, I have what it takes.” He couldn’t keep the hope and wistful note out of his voice under that assessing gaze. “Please, give me a chance. I–” He swallowed anxiously, feeling Milo’s eyes all but devouring his profile, and it was making him a little queasy. “I am an adult.”
Torrance smiled at him, and the look was suddenly dark, and so sinister it actually drew Koda back a little fearfully. It felt like the man pinned him under a sudden laser pointer before the man nodded curtly and motioned to the door. “Milo, get the door then.”
“Of course.”
Koda’s eyes went a little round when Milo strolled past with a leggy, idle stride to that door that day and flipped the lock.
“Um…” Koda tensed, but Torrance cleared his throat and drew his frightened eyes right back to his intent green ones.
“Privacy reasons, Koda. Nothing to be alarmed about. So.” He drummed his fingers on the table, sweeping Koda with a darkening gaze. Koda knew that shit was about to crash when the man opened his mouth. Call it some sense of premonition, or what have you, but the intense look in that emerald stare was sincerely alarming.
“Let’s talk about comfort in front of the camera.” Torrance stood, and Koda barely held his ground, staring up at the leviathan who rolled around the table with a smooth step and flashed a bright smile down at him. “As you may know, contracted models with our agency do everything from swimwear to couture. We contract with the highest level designers, and many of our models regularly run the catwalks in New York—” He leaned down a touch, and his eyes bore into Koda’s like he was trying to burrow into his soul. “ —Milan. I think you could be one of those models, Koda, but the question is—”
He eased in so close that Koda flinched and held his breath, heart dropping with sickly terror when the man brushed his lips right over his ear before asking softly, “How much do you want to be one of those people?”
Koda’s skin rolled fearfully when he felt Milo brush behind him so tightly to his back it was like their aura’s merged for a hyper intense second.
The sudden feeling in the room weightened, darkened, and never had Koda been so petrified. Torrance’s sickly sweet smell clouded his olfactory receptors, but in this situation, it did nothing but scare him. Milo’s Low-T status was barely less comforting.
“I—I…um, maybe I should…”
“Come, Koda.” Milo touched his lower back, and it jarred him, making his face snap to the other side and up at the man.
Meeting his predatory blue eyes, while the combined proximity between these two began to crush him down, made Koda’s heart rate stutter, and suddenly, it was hard to breathe.
“Come strike a pose for me, and we’ll see how well you photograph in bare skin, no? It will be an amazing series of shots and perhaps,” Milo grinned, but it was wicked. “We will all get to know each other very well later in a few days as we go over contracts.”
“Life-changing contracts,” Torrance emphasized when he straightened, gaze roasting over Koda’s flushed face like unleashed wildfire. “You could leave that podunk country Pageant shit behind and play with the professionals, Koda, but you have to really, really want that big paycheck, babe. So.” Torrance stepped back and motioned to the door with a long finger first, before he motioned to the backdrop set up for their photo session. “Time’s tickin’. I’m positive that about twenty other people out there won’t hesitate to consider being a team player.”
It was the day Koda looked into a man’s eyes and knew that that man was evil.
He knew the second he nodded with terror in his heart for it, that Torrance Michael was a predator, just like he also knew that this man was offering him a dream unlike anything he had ever expected, walking through the doors that day.
The only dream that could potentially take his entire family out of poverty, and grant him his one and only wish of being anything more than just some mediocre, struggling pretty face in the crowd.
It was the day Koda Parks met the Devil disguised as a modeling agent in the competitive, grinding machine that was Hollywood, California.
Land of the beautiful, talented, and also, the damned.
