Malicious. Jacob Stone
“Nick, no you don’t! If you don’t tell me, we’re through, I swear it!”
Her agent gave the same heavy sigh he always did whenever he was being forced to spell out bad news. “Stephanie Morrison.”
Morrison was two years younger than her, a shade hotter, and two shades blonder. So this was how it was now going to be. When Heather broke into movies at age twenty, her first role was as the hot girlfriend. At twenty-six she started being cast as the “cute” friend. At thirty-two, all she could get were mom roles. Now at thirty-eight, she was too old to play the part of a thirty-two-year-old guy’s mom, even if Peter Shays did look young for his age. Bastards!
As she always did, Heather ended her run two blocks from her condo, and after stumbling to a stop, she bent forward and held her knees so she could catch her breath.
Thanks to the anger that had been fueling her, she had pushed herself harder than usual, and a thin sheen of sweat covered her body. There hadn’t been a day since she had turned thirty that she hadn’t run five miles—even those days when she had to be on set at five a.m. All that running and Pilates and yoga in the hopes of keeping her body slender and toned, and now she’d probably only get grandmother roles! She decided then that she was going to bump her running up to seven miles daily and add an extra Pilates workout each week.
A block away was The Grassy Knoll, and as was her routine, she stopped in for a juice. Rico was working the counter. A pretty gay man with diamond stud earrings, a tight T-shirt and jeans that could’ve been painted on, and long eyelashes that were to die for. He gave her a long appreciative look up and down before leering at her wolfishly.
“You’re looking so fine, girl. You make me almost want to be straight.”
“Rico, darling, you’re just too kind.”
“Simply being honest, that’s all, sweetie. The usual?”
“What else?”
As Rico fed kale, carrots, beets, fennel, celery, and jalapeno peppers into a juicer, he asked her about some of the Hollywood gossip he’d been hearing and told her how much prettier he found her than the other starlets in town. “None of them can make me hard like you do, sweetie.”
By the time Heather left the store with a juice in hand, her mood had perked up. Rico, bless him, was always good for that.
At the end of the block was a small park across the street from her condo, and as part of her routine, Heather would always sit on the lone bench in the park and enjoy her juice. Today, though, there was someone already sitting there. A man, maybe the same age as Peter Shays. Nicely dressed in a Versace suit and wearing an attractive pair of Italian loafers. Good-looking also, with his sandy-brown hair and neatly trimmed goatee. She caught a glimpse of the Hublot watch on his wrist and had a good idea of how much it cost. So he had money also. She smiled as she thought of how he was the right age for her to play a different kind of mommy to, and besides, the bench was big enough for two. He was good-looking in a cute sort of way and presented himself well. She sat to his right and watched with amusement as he tried to act as if he were too absorbed with what he was reading on his cell phone to notice that she was there. As she finished up her juice, she slurped to get his attention. He looked up then with an exaggeratedly startled expression.
“Oh, hi,” he said, blushing. “I didn’t realize I had company.” He held out a hand. “Jason,” he said.
So cute. “Heather,” she said as she took his hand.
He opened his eyes wide. “You’re Heather Brandley! Wow! I’m such a huge fan. I love everything you’ve been in, especially The Day After Yesterday.”
“You mean today,” she said with a thin smile.
He blushed some more, and Heather thought again that he was cute. She also thought about how much she needed this type of an ego boost.
“I guess I was just being dense, but I never made that connection before with that movie title. I hope this doesn’t look like I was stalking you, because this is really just an amazing coincidence, but I’m looking to make an independent film that you’d be so perfect for.”
Her own smile faded fast. “You were stalking me,” she said.
He began to give her a startled look as if he couldn’t understand why she would accuse him of something like that, but then cut it off and instead grinned.
“You caught me red-handed,” he admitted. “I know you live over there” —he nodded toward the condo complex across the street— “and I was hoping to catch you when you left home. I certainly didn’t expect you to sit down next to me on this bench. It must be kismet.”
Heather’s eyes narrowed as she gave him a dubious look. “Tell me about this movie.”
“Pure action. One kick-ass sequence leading into the next. And I want you to star.”
“Nudity?”
“None. I do want you in a spandex outfit, though, to show off your ridiculously gorgeous body.”
She was flattered, but she kept her tone purely business as she asked, “Budget?”
“Six million.” He made an apologetic gesture with his hands. “I know that’s not a lot, but this is an independent film, not a studio picture.”
“I’ve worked on smaller budgeted films,” she admitted. “How do you plan on raising the money?”
“I don’t. I’ve already got it.”
“How is that?”
“I’ve been successful with my business.” He fiddled with his phone and then handed it to her. He had brought up on the screen his company’s website, and as Heather scrolled through it he told her that his business was mostly corporate sponsorships and events, but that it had been very lucrative.
“I’ve seen some of your videos on YouTube,” she admitted.
“Not surprising. They’ve gotten millions of hits.”
“How come your website has your name but not your photo?”
“I like to have an air of mystery.”
When Heather first started questioning him about his movie, it was mostly as a lark and partly because he was cute, but now this was starting to get serious.
“How much would you pay me?” she asked.
“One hundred thousand plus ten percent of the gross.”
Heather had had to work for scale on her last three movies. She concentrated to sound nonchalant as she told him that he could send her a script.
“That’s terrific! I’ll get a copy in the mail later today.” He froze for a moment and made a face as if he were trying to decide how bold he could be, and Heather smiled to herself. He was cute after all, and she was beginning to fancy the idea of getting naked with him for an intensive cardiovascular workout, and so she waited for him to work up the courage to proposition her.
“I’ve also got the movie storyboarded,” he said. “If you have the time, I could take you to my workshop and go over it with you. And maybe dinner at Luzana’s afterward.”
Luzana’s was the hottest spot in Los Angeles. A-listers only. Heather had been dying to get in there—more so she could be seen than even to try the food, which was supposed to be exquisite.
“Do you have reservations?” she asked, a tad too anxiously.
He waved off the question as if he were carelessly swatting at a fly. “Not needed. I have an understanding with the maître d’. If I call him for a table for tonight, it won’t be an issue. Especially if I tell him who my guest is.”
That settled it. Everybody thinks they can make a movie, and it was more likely than not the script he had was putrid, even if he was willing to sink six million