Noel sat rigid on the cushioned bench of the private alcove, the velvet seat suddenly feeling too warm beneath him. The rose-pink tablecloth was long enough to brush the tops of his polished boots, hiding whatever was happening underneath.
He remembered... clear as yesterday, when he had signed a similar contract.
Back in his original world, fresh out of school with no family. The agency had promised stardom. All he had to do was sign. They took sixty per cent of every paycheck, sometimes more... claiming "management fees," "training costs," "publicity expenses." They knew he was an orphan. He had no one to fight for him. No one to check the numbers. They treated him like a machine... long hours of work, low pay, endless auditions, insults when he missed a mark.
When he finally hired a cheap lawyer and sued, the agency folded within months. He made sure they never reopened. He got every penny back, plus interest.
Now another scammer sat across from him.
Arthur Ashford.
