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The shit I do for Brad is ridiculous.
He wanted an Oscar, and this is his shot. His success is mine.
I'll just keep repeating that so I don't knock his ass out for bringing me here.
Princess over there can fix Teagan's issues, which, in turn, should fix Brad's.
Unlikely.
I'm not sure I can do anything about the state of this set.
Not that I'm surprised. They're filming a movie about a plane wreck and a deserted island. The story centers around a girl and her guardian. It's a story about forbidden love and survival.
The book was not only critically acclaimed, but it also won a Pulitzer.
This film is projected to be the film of the decade. Or it will be if we can get it back on track.
If he sets the location to get the best out of the actors, it's no surprise he'd choose this spot. It's sure to bring out the desperation in everyone to get off this island.
After a few more minutes, I see the director's assistant, Michael. He fidgets, looking frazzled. It's the same way he's always looked whenever I've seen him. Stefan must drive him crazy.
“You're here.” Michael's face lights up like a kid on Christmas morning. Things must be really bad for him to get so excited at my appearance.
“I said I'd come,” I say in a deadpan, not sharing his feelings on my presence being needed here.
“And you're here, too.” He looks at Mallory. “Good. We'll need all the help we can get with those two.”
He's obviously referring to the actors.
My gaze leaves his and darts around the field. “And what about Stefan? Where's he?”
He shrugs. “He's being Stefan. He films and then disappears.”
My head swivels around. “To where?”
“Beats me. I don't question his brilliance. There's a method to his madness, and he'll make gold out of this….”
I arch a brow. “A bronze statue, I hope.”
“That's the plan. Which is why we need both of you here.” He huffs. “Let me show you where you'll be staying.”
Mallory and I share a glance. If I'm reading her right, she's thinking the same thing as me. This oughtta be good.
“Please,” I say, sweeping my hand out in front of me. “Lead the way.”
Michael walks us down a different path. One that goes deeper within the island.
I pride myself on my bravery and chivalry, but this place gives me the creeps. It has horror movie vibes, and with every rustle of the trees, the hairs on the back of my neck rise a little higher.
Pull yourself together, Ramsey.
Michael points a finger in the opposite direction from where he's taking us. “Everyone else is staying on that side in the main group of huts.”
Mallory stops walking. “Did you just say huts?”
Michael turns to her, and even in the waning light, his face pales. “Yes, umm. Why?” He nervously shifts his weight from one foot to the other.
“Thank you for giving us better accommodations. After the day we've had, we could use some good news.” She chuckles. “I'd have died if you walked us up to a hut.”
I don't have to be a genius to know she's read it all wrong.
We won't be getting anything luxurious. He's simply giving us more private huts.
He swallows. “Well… actually… you see—”
“Dear God, Michael. Stop stalling.” I turn to her. “You'll be sleeping in a hut, too.”
“What?” she screeches. Her head snaps from his to mine.
“That's accurate.” Michael looks down toward the ground and then back up. He's clearly uncomfortable having to be the bearer of this unfortunate news.
It's my turn to step forward because that's one thing Brad did not mention. “Where are the actors’ suites?”
He rocks back on his heels, blinking uncontrollably. “Everyone is staying in huts.” His voice squeaks, sounding like a dog's chew toy being attacked by a mastiff.
Mallory paces as she worries her lip in thought. “Do they have electricity?”
“Some.”
She stops pacing, sliding right up in front of him.
“Explain . . . some.”
“Stefan wants everyone to rough it, but not that much. He knows that we need some technology to function. Just don't expect fast Wi-Fi.” He chuckles awkwardly, trying and failing to make a joke.
There is no joking about this. It's the truth of the situation.
We'll be lucky if we have cell service out here.
“Wait—are you serious?”
“Unfortunately, yes. But this is the way he wants it.” Michael turns, done answering questions.
“How am I supposed to work while I'm here?” Mallory asks, and I laugh.
“You have one client, princess. How much work do you need to do other than getting your actress on board to, you know, act?”
“I—”
“You nothing. If anyone should be worried, it's me, but you don't see me complaining. The faster you get your girl—”
“It's not just my girl.” She scoffs.
“Maybe not, but she and her irritating mother are certainly not helping with all the other problems.”
“Let's not pass judgment until we know all the facts.” Mallory's voice is sharp with an edge I haven't heard from her before.
