Chapter 30
Evie
The Liability
“Simon says sit the fuck down, bitch.” I swung my fist, and Skye’s harness jerked her backward.
In character as Riley, she fell onto the mat and caught herself on her elbows. She swung her head back up, hair fanning her face, breathing heavily, her filthy white undershirt stretched across her chest so tightly it was nearly transparent. She glared at me.
“This isn’t over. It’s never over.”
I stalked over to her slowly, and she raised her leg, kicking. My harness tugged me hard, and I flew through the air. When I landed, I rolled onto all fours—and promptly vomited all over the set.
“Cut!” Dante groaned. “Evie, you okay?” He hopped off his chair and hurried over, along with the medical personnel, Skye, and a handful of others. I closed my eyes and fought back tears as my body kept forcing me to throw up.
“Oh jeez, she’s gonna need a shower. Someone help her out of her harness while we clean and reset. Everyone else take lunch!”
Someone reached for my hair and held it back. Eventually, the retching stopped, and I sat back. A medic and Raissa, my assistant, lifted me gently off the ground and into a golf cart to take me back to my trailer.
“I just need my nausea meds,” I told Dante as I passed him.
“Right. We’ll talk with medical and see how we can prevent this next time. Go rest up, and I’ll have wardrobe bring new clothes to your trailer.”
I took my medicine as soon as I got to my trailer. They worked quickly, and I showered without assistance. My muscles screamed with overexertion from the full day of stunts. We’d been shooting the epic fight between Skye and my character for about six hours before I got sick.
I fell asleep in my towel and woke up to my phone ringing, indicating that lunch hour was done. I stood, pulling on the new clothes wardrobe had brought, and headed back to hair and makeup.
The rest of the day had changed to ensure I wouldn’t get sick again. I wasn’t on a rig anymore, and they even offered me a stunt double, but I politely declined.
“I’ll keep my meds handy. Guys, it’s really no big deal,” I assured them.
But it was nice to have them so concerned and willing to accommodate.
“I’ve had chronic nausea forever. I just wasn’t as prepared as I thought I’d be,” I said after we wrapped for the day and was asked once again if I was okay.
The moment Raissa arrived with the golf cart to drive me back to my trailer, I bolted for her.
“Speaking of prepared, tomorrow’s schedule changed. We can’t shoot any of Ronny and Lucy’s scenes.” Dante came over, a scowl on his face.
I stopped just short of my assistant and turned. “What? Why?” I hadn’t had time to hang with Sebastian all week, so I’d been looking forward to tomorrow—despite it being our bedroom scenes. Those, I was nervous about.
“The intimacy coordinator got fired. Apparently, she lied on her résumé, and the studio lawyers aren’t happy. They actually want to talk to you about it, if you’re feeling up to it.” His eyes narrowed, and he placed a polite hand on my upper arm.
“Sure. Take me over?” I asked Raissa. She nodded, and as I got into the golf cart, I called Antoinette.
I gave her the rundown and asked her to come.
Already on the lot, she agreed to meet me there.
I was taken to the same offices I’d been interviewed by the police in when they’d found Glenn.
Once inside, I was directed to a room filled with men I didn’t recognize—and one I did.
Frederick Castle.
Lawyer to the stars.
“Evie Reyes, welcome. How are you? We heard about your sick spell this afternoon.” They greeted me and attempted small talk about my filming experience while we waited for Antoinette to arrive.
I tried not to stare directly at the next man on my kill list, but curiosity was getting the best of me.
He was a conventionally attractive middle-aged man—trim, tan, dark hair full and styled.
He wore an expensive, tailor-fitted suit and a look of total power.
He exuded the energy of someone in charge, and the way everyone in the room looked to him every time someone spoke, I was right.
He was the top dog here. Antoinette finally arrived and sat down beside me.
Frederick sat up straighter in his seat and cleared his throat.
“Ms. Reyes, Ms. Gaines. As you may have heard, we were unfortunately forced to let go of our intimacy coordinator. The studio already has interviews lined up and should have her replacement by the end of the week,” Frederick said.
“We know it’s an inconvenience to everyone involved in production, so we wanted to check in and make sure you were satisfied with your experience on set so far. ”
Antoinette crossed her arms and snorted loudly. “He wants to know if we are going to sue them for letting someone unqualified do your intimacy coaching—because of their lack of due diligence.”
“Sue?” I did a double take.
“W-Well—” One of the men flanking Frederick started to stumble over his words.
“Do you want to sue them, Evie? If so, we need to walk out right now,” Antoinette, ever my strongest advocate, spoke over him.
I shook my head. “No, I don’t think so. We didn’t really do anything yet.”
You know, except that one time during our chemistry test when Sebastian went too far, and I let him eat me out in front of everyone in the room.
I wondered for a moment if they had all known we weren’t faking. Had they all gotten off on it? I shuddered at the thought.
“Well then, if that’s settled, we’d like to get your signature.” Frederick pulled his briefcase onto the table and popped it open, bringing out a packet. “This just confirms that you are aware of what was discovered, how it was handled, and that you are not pursuing legal action.”
They had us both sign the papers, and then we were released. We stood, and the rest of the room joined us. Arms were thrust out, and one by one we started down the line, shaking hands. When I reached Frederick, he gripped me tight, holding me in place.
“I’ve been waiting a long time to formally meet you, Ms. Reyes.” He grinned, but the smile didn’t reach his cold, dead eyes.
I stared, memorizing every line in his face.
Was this the man who fathered me?
“You have?” I forced back my nerves.
He continued to grip my hand. “Oh yes. I was close to your mother. Many of us were. She was a legend, a real Final Girl. And it’s lovely to see you following in her footsteps. Good for you.”
My smile fell. Why did that feel like a threat?
“Right.” I ripped my hand back. “Thanks. She was great.”
“She really was. We all used to hang out back in the day. We had a card game once a month. Mike Thornton, Jason Dourif, and Lita, of course. Do you remember any of them?”
He didn’t take his eyes off me, and it was then, in that moment, I knew he knew. Everything he’d said was calculated. He was goading me. I was missing something. How much did he know? I gave him a tight smile and lifted my shoulders.
“Sorry, I don’t.”
“But didn’t you date Glenn, Mike’s son?” he pushed.
I cocked my head to the side. “Oh, not really. We just flirted some. He went missing before we could—”
“Evie, let’s go.” Antoinette, her agent hat on, put her hands on my shoulders and directed me to the door. “If there’s anything else you’d like to say to my client, email me,” she said firmly.
Frederick’s gaze bounced from Antoinette to me.
“You’re very protective of your client. That’s the sign of a good agent.” He smiled tightly.
“Yes, well, it’s my job to keep her safe,” Antoinette snapped back.
“Sure, of course.” He smirked, and his eyes grew distant for a moment before snapping his attention back to me. “Maybe we’ll see you at a card game sometime!” Frederick called as she shoved me out the door.
“What a creep,” Antoinette muttered. “He must have had the hots for your mom back in the day. He was looking at you like he wanted to eat you.” She shuddered. “Don’t be alone with him, ever,” she warned.
“You don’t have to tell me twice,” I muttered.
Returning to my trailer, I got a text from Sebastian.
Psycho Killer: Did you hear about the schedule change?
Me: I did. Bummer. I wanted to hang.
Me: What are you doing tonight?
He typed, stopped, and then started typing again.
Psycho Killer: I was voluntold to come to a poker game.
A chill went down my spine, and I stared at the phone, reading the words multiple times before replying.
Me: Poker game? With who?
Psycho Killer: Guess.
Fear sank deep into my belly, and I steeled myself. There was no way he was going alone. Antoinette’s warning flashed in my brain, and I huffed, realizing how quickly I’d abandoned the advice. I typed a reply.
Me: I’m coming with.
She said not to be alone with him. Technically, I wasn’t.