Chapter 41
Chapter Forty-One
RAFE
“ W hat the fuck is the hold up?” I ask Holly. She’s finally showed her face after an hour of delays with filming. We should be wrapping up now and heading back to the house but it’s a no-go.
Holly clears her throat and looks down at the clipboard in her hands. “Some cameras are just not working. We think they got damaged in the move out here.”
I look at Grant. He’s pissed. He’s just hiding it better than me.
“We get it,” he says with a warm smile. “We’ll have to be leaving, though. You understand, don’t you?”
Holly’s eyes practically bulge out of her head because no is a word her peabrain doesn't understand.
“You can’t just go.”
“We can,” I say and follow Grant when he moves away and starts heading towards the parking lot.
“But the producers-” Holly starts and Grant cuts her off.
“We have a very delicate situation right now, Holly. We’re going home.” Grant pushes the door open and cool night air washes over us. It feels good after being on set. Even if we weren’t filming much today, the air on set gets oppressive sometimes. Today was one of those. Jasmine didn’t meet my eyes and I didn’t miss how she shied away from everyone on set. The only person that she goes near is Holly’s new assistant, Aubrey. It was fine though, considering the rest of the crew was giving her a wide berth, too.
No one wanted to be near the woman that threatened to kill someone. It’s a bad look normally but now? Now, it’s career suicide.
“Please, we have a twilight scene that we have to run through. It’s important while the weather holds,” Holly pleads her case but I point at the horizon that lights up with lightning.
“Looks like the weather is about to turn. You’ll get us the full day tomorrow. Tonight is a no-go with us having just moved. We all knew it was a risk with the timing of it,” I remind her.
Holly swears and throws her hands up. “I swear to god. This movie cannot be done fast enough.”
“Same,” I tell her. I only care about the movie as far as Kit does.
“Hey, we promise things will be better tomorrow,” Grant lies. He’s smoothing shit over, always the golden boy. I scowl and walk past him to the passenger side of the truck the dumb shit drove us in today.
“We’ll have Kit with us tomorrow and it’ll be no problem to stay late,” he adds and Holly sighs.
“Okay, that will be fine.”
“Hurry the fuck up,” I bark at Grant and slap my hand against the side of the truck. He clicks the lock on the car and ignores me while he chats with Holly for a minute longer. By the time he gets in the car there’s a smattering of raindrops starting to fall.
“Did you tell her to fuck off?” I ask.
“No, because Kit wouldn’t like that. Now, buckle the fuck up.”
I do what he says and keep my eyes on the rear view mirror as we exit the lot. People watch as we drive out. I see Jasmine’s telltale dark hair as she ducks out of the building and into the rain with Aubrey hot on her heels.
“That new assistant is sure warming up to Jasmine.”
“I noticed that too,” Grant says. He pulls out onto the highway and we settle into silence. It’s comfortable. Not the way it used to be when I’d count the seconds and the minutes until we were back with Kit. She used to be the only thing that made us work but there’s been a shift. We both love her but there’s a spark of that between us now, too. Or at least, that’s what it feels like on my side of things. I don’t know where I stand with Grant but he’s been softer than normal lately. That’s not something that he does for no reason.
I pull my phone out and check for texts from Kit. There’s only one in the group chat we have with her.
We have pizza and pasta ready for dinner tonight! I love you!
We love you too. On our way back now.
Grant’s phone buzzes from my text where he tossed it on the dashboard. “What is it?” he asks, already knowing it’s the group text.
“Kit says there’s pasta and pizza for dinner.”
“Thank god,” Grant hums in delight and reaches out to start changing the radio stations. The rain starts to come down harder and I worry about the power to the new place. There’s a generator that can be used but I haven’t shown it to Kit. Jax and Scott will have to know how to work it but they’re at the base of the hill by the gate. Trained professionals or not, I don’t like the idea of Kit having to rely on them if something goes wrong.
I open my phone to text Kit about the generator but that’s when I see another text. It’s from Rita.
Dottie Bee is dead.
When did that happen?
Today. A few hours ago. It’s all over the news.
Rita tries to call as soon as her text comes in and I know why. She always thought the way I avoided talking about Dottie was because I cared about her. Every interview that brought up Lighthouse Dreams was one I worked to move away from the topic. Dottie Bee was a way for me to go radio silent. Soon enough, the interviewers learned not to bring up how I got started and to stay focused on the movie they wanted to know about. Anything else would get them nowhere.
Rita calls again but I ignore it and pull up a web page to search. The second I do, I almost drop my phone.
Dottie Bee Takes Own Life Days After Recovery
I stare at that headline but don’t click it. The very next one has me clicking, though.
Dottie Bee’s Suicide Scissors!
“What the fuck?”
“What the fuck what?” Grant asks and looks my way but I hit his shoulder.
“Eyes on the fucking road. Dottie’s dead.”
Grant is silent for a second and then bursts into laughter. “Oh fuck yeah? Really?”
“Yeah, she killed herself,” I say as I scan the article, “stabbed herself in the neck with a pair of scissors. She bled out.”
“Pizza and now this? Best fucking day.” He turns up the radio and the bass of it thumps so loud that I can feel it in the soles of my feet. Yeah, Grant is having a party for one right now. I smile at the glee I hear in his voice. He’s not wrong. It’s a bright spot with all the bullshit we’ve been dealing with. Rita calls again and I take the call.
“Yeah?”
“Are you okay?” she asks immediately. “Wait, where are you? It sounds like you’re at a rock concert.”
“I’m fine. Why wouldn't I be? No concert, just loud music.” I motion for Grant to turn the music down but he ignores me.
“Dottie…”
I look out the window. The rain comes down at an angle with how fast we’re going. Only the glow of the headlights lets me see the water. Dottie was the part of my life I couldn’t control. I fucking hated that bitch but I know that’s not what I’m supposed to say to Rita. Not to her and not anyone that isn’t Grant or Kit.
“Sometimes people are done living.”
“But the scissors! Rafe, she stabbed herself in the fucking neck like a horror movie. That’s just-the nurse that found her said there was blood on the ceiling. Why would she do that? I’m so sorry, Rafe. I know she meant a lot to you.”
I grind my teeth and squeeze my phone. I’d rather be thinking about pizza and how Kit is waiting for us safe and sound, not talking about a dead woman that I couldn’t give a shit about.
“That’s in the past but thank you,” I tell her quickly. “It’s raining. I gotta go.”
“Wait, before you do, is the house okay? I sent over some things to make sure it was stocked.”
“It’s perfect. Kit loves it. Thank you, Rita.”
“Of course, that’s what I’m here for. You’ll let me know if I can do anything for you, right?”
“First number I’ll call,” I lie. Rita thrives off praise, off the fact that she feels close to me when I let so few people close to me.
When she speaks again I can hear the smile in her voice. “I’m here if you need anything. Day or night.”
“I know, Rita. Thank you.”
“Anytime. See ya ‘round, Rafe.”
“Bye, Rita.”
I end the call and the line goes dead. I let out a deep breath and then shove my phone back in my pocket. Dottie’s dead. I don’t need to read about it and see the bullshit they’ll publish alongside her obit. They’ll call her talented and timeless, a pioneer for actresses and a strong voice for all actors and entertainers.
Bullshit.
She was a soulless bitch who sucked the life out of every fresh face that came to Hollywood and had the misfortune of crossing her path. She was a classier version of the bottom feeders I take my knife to. The ones that hung out at parties looking for easy prey, for bright-eyed new arrivals who had no idea what or who they were. Those naive fucks hand over their control without a second thought when they think they’ve met someone who can help them land a part.
It’s not what you know, it’s who you know.
Everyone knows that. That’s how the game is played and that’s what keeps young, fresh, meat walking right into the jaws of people like Dottie Bee. My hand twitches and I wish I had been the one to end her. It would have been satisfying but it wouldn’t have been quick. Bleeding out from a major artery can happen in a few minutes, that’s much too fast for what she deserved.
If it had been me, I would have made it last. She would have joined the ranks of my greatest kills. The ones where I got creative and took my time. I wasn’t always a killer. I used to be different. Before Lighthouse Dreams.
Funny how life goes. Maybe it was Dottie that made me into the monster I am now.
“Huh.” I rub my hand across my jaw and stare pensively at the road while Grant’s music blares. Is it life that turns you into a monster or is it something you’re born with? It’s something I’ve thought a lot about. Nature versus nurture and shit like that.
I thought it was who I was but the ones I kill resemble Dottie in the prey they pick. Is that why I enjoy being the predator they never see coming? I’m not quite like Grant. He’s psychotic through and through, it’s in his DNA. But me? One day the impulse had just been there, the need to carve up and end the ones that thought they were untouchable.
I had to make them understand they weren’t the scariest thing out there. I was . Did she create that hunger in me? Probably. Most definitely.
“She’s gone, man!” Grant shouts and the truck speeds up because he’s an idiot. He looks over at me and claps my shoulder. “Fuck that bitch.”
I grab his hand and hold it tight. “Yeah,” I agree, “fuck that bitch.”