Ned looked over the papers in front of him. They—by which he meant Jack, Mary, and himself—were all in the casting room. They’d seen ten actors, and Ned had discreetly marked which one he thought should get the role. Everyone in a casting room had their own personal set of symbols that would make sense to them, and only them, signifying things like “easy to direct” or “too young,” etc. Nobody who found the symbols would be able to make sense of them, so nobody would get offended.

Jack, Ned was pretty sure, was in agreement with him over which actor to choose. But they’d set out to audition eleven actors, and so they had to see all eleven. Luckily, they were almost finished here, and Ned could finally get some damn coffee.

“You ready?” Mary asked.

Ned and Jack nodded. Mary gestured to her assistant, who got up and fetched the final actor. When he walked in, Ned had a hard time keeping his breathing even.

It was the gorgeous actor that he’d looked up before, James Novak, except that he was apparently even more mouthwatering in real life. On the student directory, he’d looked like a linebacker, but in real life he looked like a model who had been hired to play a linebacker. He was tall, only an inch taller than Ned, but still. He had floppy blond hair that looked like it was the perfect length to either comb back or ruffle up so that it looked spiky and sleep-rumpled. He had dark brown eyes, and Ned suddenly remembered a line from some book or another that said something about how people with blond hair and brown eyes were the most blessed people in the world or something, and he’d never bought into it before but he really, really did now. The thing that really got him, though, was that there was a delicate nature to the man’s face. James had a square jawline and firm cheekbones, all the features that should give him a strong, masculine look. But something about them, perhaps the tint of his pale skin or the soft shape of his mouth, drifted him back just enough towards something vulnerable and fragile looking. It turned him from merely another handsome face in the crowd into something more, something that arrested your gaze and made you keep staring.

Ned and Jack had gotten into an argument once over what it meant to have “movie star looks.” Jack had argued that the goal was to be as good-looking as possible, but Ned had argued that it wasn’t as simple as that. Sure, Hollywood tended to attract people that would have probably been worshipped as gods in ancient times, but not every movie star was what you would consider devastatingly beautiful. Some of them, Ned felt, had something more—an ability, whether because of their personality shining through or perhaps just an interesting face—that kept you looking at them. Something hypnotizing. That was the word that he had used when arguing with Jack. You didn’t have to be beautiful. You just needed to be hypnotizing.

He’d never expected the definition of “hypnotizing” to waltz into an audition room.

“Hi,” James said, and Ned found his fingers tightening around his pen. James had a low, rumbling voice that sent shivers running up and down Ned’s spine. They better not cast this guy or he was so screwed. Ned found himself desperately wishing that James was a bad actor.

“I’m James Novak, and I’ll be reading for the part of Tyler.”

Ned forced himself to sit up straight and focus on the guy’s acting rather than how he looked and sounded. Unfortunately, the guy was good.

There was nothing of the uncertainty he tended to witness around younger, less experienced actors. Although James didn’t look at all young. He looked like he was Ned’s age. Nevertheless, he was just a senior in college, and that should have meant inexperience. However, James acted with confidence—not the confidence of James showing through the character and making it difficult to actually get a read on his acting, but rather a quiet knowledge at the core of him, the knowledge that the work he was doing was good work. It was usually a trait that Ned only saw in more experienced actors.

He was also doing a good job of balancing Tyler’s mental imbalance with his humanity. Most people would have gone right for the crazy, and that wasn’t what they were trying to portray with Tyler. The whole point was that you wanted to believe that the murderer Tyler was seeing was a real person. You wanted Tyler to be right. You liked Tyler, so you didn’t want the murderer to actually be him, despite the mounting evidence in favor of that theory (before Jack’s script yanked the rug out from under the audience in Act Three, but that was an entirely different matter). James seemed to have found that balance.

Ned looked over the guy’s headshot and résumé as James continued to act. Mary and Jack were watching him avidly, but Ned had seen all he needed to. It looked like James had some good credits at the college, having been in a few student films as well as several plays the college had put on. Good. However, Ned didn’t see any feature film or television spots, not even as a guest. That suggested he hadn’t done any truly professional work, possibly hadn’t ever been on a proper set before. That wasn’t so good.

“Thank you,” Jack said, interrupting James’ monologue. “That’s all we need.”

Ned looked up. Casting directors and such would often interrupt an actor in the middle of their audition. Most actors saw it as offensive, as a sign that they weren’t wanted, that the director was bored. This was hardly the case. Most directors, or casting directors, could tell if the person was the right fit for the part within the first thirty seconds. It was like when you met someone for a first date—you could generally tell within the first minute or so if you actually had chemistry. James didn’t seem put out though. He just smiled and nodded.

“Thank you for your time,” he said, that gravelly, rough voice making Ned’s pants tighten traitorously. As James turned to go, he thought—no, he must have been imagining it, but he could have sworn—it looked as though James’ gaze snagged on his and dragged over his body in a way that made Ned flush hot, before the actor opened the door and disappeared into the hallway.

Ned shook himself. Clearly he was losing his mind. Nobody as hot as James was going to check him out, even if James did, in fact, turn out to be gay which, knowing Ned’s luck, he probably wasn’t.

“What do you think?” Jack said eagerly, nudging Ned.

Ned shook his head. “He’s good. I really liked him. But we should go with Dex.”

Dex Powell was a talented young actor who had auditioned for them and had been one of the initial five on Ned’s list. Dex was, all of the film industry agreed, a talented up-and-comer who’d had the unfortunate luck of being cast in stupid television shows. He’d been in three so far, none of which had lasted past its first season. He’d guest starred or been featured in several award-winning television shows though and had gotten praises for his performance, so it was clearly bad luck and not a lack of talent that had him struggling to break out as a lead. Ned was sure that a complex, iconic starring role in an independent horror film would be just the thing that Dex would jump at to help get him starring in feature films. What was more, the guy was experienced and easy to work with, or so Ned’s PA contacts had told him. James was good, undoubtedly, but he didn’t have the experience or rising star power that Dex had.

“Weren’t you paying attention?” Jack asked. “The guy was perfect for Tyler.”

“You said the same thing about Dex when he auditioned yesterday.”

“That was yesterday.”

“Jack.” Ned breathed in slowly through his nose to keep the irritation from showing in his voice. “They’re both great for the part, so go with the actor that has the experience. I’m not letting you hitch your star to some dewy-eyed student that might audition well but not actually be able to act his way out of a paper bag when the time comes. We can’t afford to take that risk.”

“I want to cast him,” Jack replied stubbornly.

“Then cast him as the murderer or something,” Ned replied. “It’ll give him a starring role but won’t be as challenging of a character, and if he’s an ass and we need to replace him, you can find someone else to wear the mask and we won’t have to re-shoot anything.”

“And what if Dex ends up being an ass?”

“Then you can tell me ‘I told you so’ and I will never speak against your casting choices again,” Ned replied.

Jack sighed. “Fine. We’ll cast Dex as Tyler and James as the murderer.”

Ned looked over at Mary, who nodded. “I’ll start placing calls,” she said, standing up. Ned once again had the impression, despite Mary not saying anything, that she was highly disapproving of his words, his choices, and his very existence.

He put a hand on Jack’s shoulder. “This is going to be a great movie,” he said. “I can see the doubt creeping into your eyes, there, buddy. Don’t let it, okay? You’re brilliant, and this movie’s going to be brilliant.”

Jack fought a smile. “Thanks, man.”

“What are best friends for?” Ned was confident they had made the right decision. Now it was time to get filming.