by Kasie West
I peered inside to see a serious knife. “Wow. That knife is not messing around.” It was huge, with a serrated edge. It looked like the kind I’d see on the set of a movie about a drug lord. I thought about it for thirty seconds too long. It was like my brain was trying to fit the knife into the nursing home script I’d given when we climbed through the window. But as I slowly assessed the evidence I was coming to a realization.
“And what’s in drawer number two?” Donavan tugged open the next drawer and revealed plastic bags full of white powder.
I gasped, then said aloud what I had realized. “Someone is living here now.”
He paused, his eyes darting upward like he was thinking, then he cursed. It sounded funny coming out of his mouth, like it was the first time he’d ever done it in his life. He slammed the drawer shut, grabbed a dingy towel off the corner of the bed, and wiped the handles as if he thought his fingerprints would immediately appear in some sort of database.
“We need to go,” he said. “Now.”
Right as we made it to the top of the stairs to head back down to the first floor, a loud bang sounded somewhere below us.
Donavan cursed again. I remembered a hall closet behind us and took him by the hand and dragged him there. We both stepped inside, and I pulled the door closed.
“Whoever that is saw my car,” Donavan whispered. “They had to have. It’s the only car in the parking lot. We are going to get caught. Either by the cops or by whoever owns that knife. This is going to go on my record.”
“Or you’ll be dead,” I whispered back.
“Exactly.” He was quiet for a moment. “Do you think this is funny? How do you think this is funny?”
“I don’t . . . well, it is a little. I feel like I’m in a Heath Hall movie.” I was scared too. My heart was racing, and my nerves were heightened. But it was also kind of exciting.
“A Heath Hall movie?”
“That’s the character Grant normally plays in movies.”
“I know who Heath Hall is,” he snapped.
“Oh.” I reached out and my hand met with some part of Donavan. His back? His chest? It felt like a shoulder blade maybe. “Don’t stress so much.”
“When should we start stressing, then?” He paused for a minute. “Wait, is this some kind of joke? Did you set this up?”
“You’re the one who brought me here. How would I set this up?”
“True.”
We both went quiet as a set of footsteps sounded outside the door. They didn’t slow down, just walked right by. I could feel the tension release from Donavan. We stayed in the closet until I could no longer hear any noise at all.
“Thanks for coming with me tonight,” I whispered.
“Is this the new experience you were going for?”
I was shut inside a small, dark closet with a guy, tension and heightened awareness thick in the air. It kind of was. “It’s actually helped a lot.”
“I’m glad something came out of it.”
“Should we sleep in here tonight or make a run for it?” I asked.
“Those are our only two choices?”
“Yes.”
“I guess we’re running.” As if he’d been waiting for the suggestion all along, he swung open the door and ran for the stairs. When we got to the window where we’d entered, he practically threw me out, then flung himself out, rolling to the ground with his momentum before he stood and stumbled to his car.
I caught up with him, not able to control my laughter.
“It’s not funny,” he said when we were safely inside his car, the doors locked.
“It is funny. Like one hundred percent. Not even one percentage point less than completely funny.”
He turned over the ignition and drove out of the parking lot, then finally said, “I’ll give you seventy-five percent. No more.”
I laughed again.
After a few quiet minutes, Donavan said, “What would you have done?”
“What?”
“If whoever was in there had opened the door and discovered us. What would you have done?”
“Turned on my zombie mode. The hissing, the limping, the works. It would’ve confused them just enough for us to get away.”
“You really would have done that,” he said as a statement, not a question.
“Yes,” I answered anyway.
“You’re crazy.”
“Don’t forget it.” I studied his profile as he looked out the window. His jaw was tight, his lips set in a thin line. “What would you have done if we’d been discovered?”
“I have no idea. I think I might be a flight kind of guy in the fight-or-flight scenario. My only instinct was to run.”
“You sound sad about this.”
“I am. I always knew I hated conflict but this . . . I’m extremely disappointed in myself.”
“You wish you would’ve what? Went charging after him in a blind rage? Asked him if you could join him for his recreational pastime?”
“No . . . I don’t know.”
I grabbed hold of his shoulder and shook it. “Lighten up, dude. You totally pushed me through the window first. You can hang on to your man card for another day.”
“Did you just call me dude?”
“I did. Better or worse than Choir Boy?”
“Equally bad.”
“I think you mean equally charming.”
“You do think you’re pretty charming, don’t you?”
“Yes, I do. And you do too, so don’t try to deny it.”
He shook his head, but the smile on his face proved I was right.
Something caught my eye out of the side window. I pointed. “All those new experiences made me hungry. Let’s go eat.”
“With you looking like that?”
“Will this embarrass you?”
He gave me a sideways glance, then shrugged. “Probably not.”
“Let’s do the drive-through.” It was better that way. I didn’t think anyone would recognize me off set, but just in case, I didn’t need more bad pictures on the internet.
Dancing Graves
INT. THE MANSION LIBRARY—DAY
SCARLETT is getting worse by the day. She has not transitioned but feels like she is dying a slow death. She wants to leave to spare her family and BENJAMIN pain, but he is worried for her safety.
BENJAMIN
Where will you go?
SCARLETT
The cemetery, I think, with that old abandoned church nearby. You can leave me supplies there.
BENJAMIN
I cannot bear it. You must stay. For just a little longer.
SCARLETT
Promise me something. If I start to worsen, if I begin to require what the others eat, you must stop me. By any means necessary.
Ten
What I’d told Donavan was true. Getting out of my daily rut was important when I was feeling uninspired. And our experience the day before had definitely fired me up. I felt ready to work. Or I would be ready if I could find my kneepads. I had to crawl over benches today, and wardrobe had given me a pair just for this purpose.
I got down on my hands and knees again and looked under the rack of clothes. I couldn’t find them. I took every hanging piece and moved it to the couch. The only thing on the floor was a pair of Converse I’d forgotten I’d brought to the trailer.
“Faith!” I called out my trailer door as if she stood waiting for me at all times. She wasn’t there. I glanced at the time on my phone; I had two minutes to be in the church building. I wasn’t going to be late again.
I hopped down the steps and halfway there noticed my favorite helper across the way. “Aaron!”
He was talking to someone from the crew and looked up when I called his name.
“Have you seen my kneepads?”
He put his hand to his ear as if he couldn’t hear me. I waved him off and kept walking. Faith stood at the doors to the church.
“Faith. Are there any extra kneepads?”
&nb
sp; “You lost yours?”
“I thought they were in my trailer, but I couldn’t find them.”
“I’ll bring you another pair. Hurry in, they’re waiting for you.”
“Thanks.”
Grant nodded his head as I joined him by the pews at the front of the chapel. It was a gorgeous room, with dark wooden benches and steps leading up to the pulpit, which was backlit by the most amazing stained glass I’d ever seen. A large tapestry hung on the wall displaying the words: Matthew 5:44 Love your enemies, and pray for those who persecute you.
“Hey,” I said, noticing all the people lining the walls to watch. My eyes caught on a familiar face, someone I’d seen Grant talking to before. “Who’s that guy in the flip-flops?”
“That’s my agent.”
“Wow. He’s very involved.”
He rolled his eyes. “He’s the one who talked me into this job. He thinks it’s going to redeem my reputation.”
“Does it really need that much redeeming? I see fans lining up at every location for you. And you probably get a million online mentions a day.” Like Amanda had said, we needed to get Grant out of his head. I needed to help him stop thinking he was somehow a failure.
“I used to get more, and they used to be mostly good. But it’s not just the fans we’re worried about. It’s the producers and casting directors. They need to see I have range, that I can act.”
“Right.”
Grant went from looking at his agent to turning back to me. “You ready to climb over benches?”
My knees felt bare as I said, “So ready. Are you ready to run?”
He smiled. “Yes. I got your message yesterday and tried to text you, but it was after ten. Does your dad take your phone away after ten?”
It bothered me that my dad had made a reputation for himself—one that made it seem like I was a child. I was not a child. “No, he does not. I was already sleeping. I was exhausted after the adventure I had. My tutor and I went to this abandoned old folk’s home and found a drug dealer.”
“What? Not sure that’s the answer for our chemistry issue.”
I smiled. “Yes, that sounded bad. That’s not what I meant. I don’t do drugs. What I should’ve said was that we found a drug dealer’s lair and had to escape.”
“This was the muse thing the security guard was telling me about?”
“Yes.”
“You have a tutor helping you find a muse?”
“I do now,” I said.
He smiled his hundred-watt smile and took a step closer, into my space. “You don’t need a tutor. I’m not hard to fall for if you let yourself.”
“I’m not trying to fall for you.”
“Exactly.”
We were talking about the characters, weren’t we? “Well, Scarlett has fallen for you . . . I mean Benjamin . . . obviously.”
“You need to let yourself be her.” He took my hand in his and tugged me a little closer.
I knew what he was saying. I needed to relax into the character on set. I needed to become Scarlett. At least for the next eight weeks.
Out of the corner of my eye I saw Amanda watching us. She gave me a small wave. “Don’t you think Amanda is great?” I asked.
“Yes, I do. I gave Amanda the same speech yesterday about letting herself fall for me. She’s doing a better job of it.”
A light flashed on, blinding me for a moment. I squinted.
“Is that okay?” Remy asked. “Or have you become an actual zombie, afraid of the light?” He smiled.
“It’s fine,” I said. I had just been surprised. I was used to the spotlight. I turned back toward Grant and tugged my hand from his grip. “Good thing I don’t need to fall for you today, just try to kill you.”
“You ready?” Remy asked.
I looked around for Faith with my kneepads but couldn’t see her anywhere. “Let’s do it.”
“Nice zombie work,” Remy said as I passed the monitor, limping slightly. Now I understood the need for padding.
“You were channeling some serious death,” he said.
“Thanks,” I said. I’d felt that way too. He nodded, his attention already back on the footage playing on the screen in front of him.
Faith joined me with a pair of kneepads in her hands. “Sorry, I know these are a little late. It took me forever to find an extra pair.”
I took them from her. “It’s fine.”
“You can keep them for next time.”
“Okay.”
“You’ll see on your call sheet that everyone has tomorrow off. And then Tuesday we’ll be filming only Grant and Fredrick.” Fredrick was the actor who played my father, Lord Lucas, in the movie.
“Oh, okay. See you Wednesday, then.”
Amanda grabbed hold of my hand as I reached her. “You did awesome today!”
“Thanks.” I saw my dad standing against the far wall. “How old were you when you got your first steady soap opera job?”
“Fifteen,” she said.
“And how old are you now?”
“Twenty,” she said.
“And your life isn’t ruined?”
“What?”
I nodded toward my dad, who had almost reached us. “Think you can talk to my dad so he doesn’t worry about me so much?” I knew he did. I knew that’s why he dropped by so often and felt the need to be so strict with my schedule.
He reached us just as I finished the sentence.
Amanda stuck her hand out. “Hi, Mr. Barnes. I’m Amanda. I’m twenty and I’m not screwed up yet.”
“Thanks, Amanda,” I said. “Very helpful.”
She laughed. “It’s so nice of you to visit the set so often. The bigger the audience, the better.”
“It’s fun to watch,” Dad said.
“You’re a brat,” I said to her.
“I’m being serious!”
“I know you are,” I said, then gave her shoulder a shove. “Go talk to Grant before he gets away.”
She looked over to where Grant was heading toward the exit.
“Yes, coach,” she said, and hurried off.
“She’s interesting,” my dad said.
“She’s really great. I like her a lot.”
“I’m glad you’re making friends.”
“Me too.” I put my arms out to my sides. “So what do you think about the new location?”
“It’s beautiful.”
“I agree.” My knees ached. I shifted my weight and tried not to grimace. Dad did not need to know about my hurting knees. He wouldn’t like that. “I didn’t know you were coming today.”
“I had a client on this side of town, so I thought I’d drop by on my way home and check out the new location.” There was a set piece to his right, one that wasn’t used today but would probably be added the day after tomorrow—a big wooden table. Red candles, with wax melting all the way down to the brass candleholders, sat on top. One candle lay on its side with a crumpled piece of paper near it. My dad righted the candle and picked up the paper. Then he looked around as if searching for a trash can.
“Dad,” I said. “That’s a hot set. Don’t mess with it.”
“What’s a hot set?”
“It means that an art director put that table together, and even things that look like trash are part of the scene. So slowly put everything back exactly the way you found it.”
“Oops.” He put the paper down carefully and returned the candle to its side.
I smiled. “Rookie mistake.”
“Mom would’ve known about this.”
“Maybe.”
He draped his arm over my shoulder, and we headed toward my trailer. “How are things going?”
“Good. . . . Things went well today.”
“And how about your new tutor? Is he working out okay?”
“He’s very helpful.” I thought about how he’d gone on the adventure with me the day before. That’s probably not what my dad was referring to, but he’d been helpful with my homework too, so
what I said was true.
We stopped outside my trailer door. “Are you coming in?” I asked.
“I actually need to go home and get some work done.”
“Okay, I’m going to do homework here.”
“And you’ll be home by curfew.”
“I will be home by curfew.”
Dad left, and I gave a little nod. That wasn’t so bad. He hadn’t made any comment about going over hours on set or felt the need to tell me how much homework I should finish tonight. Maybe he was realizing that I could handle this.
I opened my trailer door, fully expecting to see Donavan despite the deal we made, but he wasn’t there. I made quick work of removing my makeup, thinking he’d show up at any second and I would have to stay a zombie for the fourth day in a row. But he didn’t come.
Good. He’d rescued me with math when Leah called, but now he was honoring our deal from before about my wanting space. I’d have to text him some pics of completed pages.
I kicked my shoes off into the corner, then inspected my knees. They were red, sure to be bruised tomorrow. I needed some ice.
I found Aaron sitting in a camping chair outside his dad’s trailer, staring intently at a notebook. “Psst. How can a girl get some ice around here?” I wasn’t even sure there was ice anywhere.
He jumped a little but then smiled and climbed to his feet. “I can get it for you. Do you want it in a cup?”
“A plastic bag would be best.”
“Okay, I’ll be right back.”
“I’ll come with you.”
“Okay.”
As we walked he asked, “You have social media accounts, right?”
“Yes. Why? Does your dad want me to publicize the movie more?” I tried to think about how I might do that. I didn’t have tons of followers, nowhere near as many as Grant had, but I’d been avoiding posting altogether. I could change that.
Aaron looked down as if embarrassed. “No, I was just wondering if I could follow you.”
“Oh! Yes, of course.”
He pulled out his phone, and I told him my online handles. He typed into his phone for a while, then tucked it back into his pocket.
