Mind goes to Nicole's audition

Your mind snapped back several years, to the day you were a brand-new casting director and Nicole first stormed into your office.

She’d made it past your initial screenings three times before, only to get shot down by the main casting director each round. But you’d clocked her predatory eye—how she dissected every rival, every flaw—and the feral hunger that said she’d burn the world to get ahead.

She burst in, slamming the door behind her, frustration etched on her face. “Mr. Johnson, please—I nailed it those last times. Why am I back here again?”

You leaned back in your chair, eyeing her coolly. “Nicole, let’s be real. You’ve got fire, but you’re not leading lady material. You’ll probably never land a role like this. third strike,” you said, voice flat. "Focus on something else...something behind the scenes. Face it. You are not cut out for acting you should pivot to something else, acting is not the only way to make a living there are plently of other ways out here that do better.”

Nicole’s eyes narrowed, blue fire. “Pivot to what?”

“Executive assistant,” you replied, leaning back. “You read people like scripts. You’d run circles around the suits, make bank, live soft. But—” you stood, rounding the desk, “—I’ve been easy on you before. Today I test if you’ve got the spine for any power seat.”

She smirked, chin high. “Test me, then.”

The lock snapped shut like a gunshot, metallic echo ricocheting off bare walls.