Chapter 1 Cynthie #2
I lower myself into a chair facing the sofa, and pick up the coffee that Hannah has made.
“Okay,” I say. “Let’s hear it.”
“The bad news,” Gayle says it quickly, like she’s ripping off a Band-Aid, “is that the studio has dropped you from Iron Maiden .”
I thought I was braced for whatever was coming, but I was wrong. It turns out that what I had considered rock bottom still left me with further to fall.
“They’ve… what?” I ask. My coffee cup shakes perilously in my suddenly numb fingers.
Gayle shrugs. “It’s a family franchise. They don’t like the press you’ve been getting.”
“But… we have a contract,” I say weakly.
I can’t believe this is happening. My work is the only thing that’s been keeping me going.
Or, at least, preparing for the work has kept me going.
I haven’t wanted to tell Gayle that the thought of being on set, of actually filming, fills me with a sense of rising dread.
“They say you’ve violated the morality clause.” Gayle sounds impatient. “It’s bullshit, but fuck ’em. If they haven’t got the balls to stand behind you now, then you don’t want to be working with them.”
“The morality clause,” I say dully. “Because of the affair.”
“I wish you’d stop calling it an affair!” Hannah cuts in, furious.
“Why?” I sigh. “It was an affair. Shawn is married.”
“But he told you he was separated.” Hannah is practically vibrating with anger. “He told you there were lawyers involved. That it had been over for years.”
“And I was stupid enough to believe him.” I knuckle my eyes, too tired to deal with another wave of guilt and regret. “I should have known better. I should have… Well, there are a lot of things I should have done, but I didn’t.” I exhale a shaky breath. “So that’s it? Just like that, I’m out?”
Gayle sits forward, and there’s a sparkle in her eye. “Ask me about the good news.”
“What’s the good news?”
“Jasmine Gallow got in touch with me,” Gayle says, and I feel a flicker of interest. Jasmine codirected my first film, and she’s the one who hooked me up with Gayle in the first place. I loved working with her.
“Does she have a new project?” I ask.
“Of sorts,” is Gayle’s cryptic response. She nods to Hannah, who slides an iPad across the coffee table between us. Cued up on the screen is a video. I hit play.
I’m surprised when I see my own face. It’s a trailer for a film—a period romance—but it’s not a film I have any memory of making.
“What is this?” I murmur.
“Just watch,” Gayle says tranquilly.
When Jack Turner-Jones’s face fills the screen, I almost drop the tablet. “I— What?” I manage.
It takes me a moment to realize that the trailer has been made by splicing together scenes from other films that I’ve done: a small but well received adaptation of Northanger Abbey , some snippets from a fantasy film where I played a tragic princess, and the one that started it all, A Lady of Quality .
They’ve skimmed a bunch of stuff from Blood/Lust , Jack’s vampire show too—mostly the historical flashbacks.
As the music swells, the words “ A Lady of Quality 2: Coming Soon” roll across the famous scene of the two of us kissing in the original. I feel my stomach tighten.
There’s a long moment of silence. When I look at the women in front of me, they are both watching me with anticipation.
“I don’t understand,” I say slowly.
“So, as you know, several years ago Lady went up on Netflix.” Gayle drums her long, dagger-sharp nails against her silk-clad knee.
“And its popularity has gone from strength to strength. We’re talking cult classic at this point.
The numbers are really impressive, and interest from the sixteen-to-twenty-four demographic has gone through the roof.
It’s all over social media: there are hundreds of these homemade trailers, mock-ups of movie posters, fan art…
and that moment from the MTV awards has gone viral again .
” The glint is back in her eye. “There’s an online petition calling for a sequel that has over one hundred thousand signatures.
No one can predict when these things are going to happen, when an old title gets a new lease on life, but it’s gaining very serious momentum. People are paying attention.”
“We made this thirteen years ago,” I say. “Are you suggesting that Jasmine wants to make… a sequel?”
“I’m saying that the funding’s in place.” Gayle sounds delighted, and well she might—everyone knows that funding a project can take years of shaky negotiations, false starts, and disappointments.
“Netflix wants the sequel, and Jasmine’s had a script knocking around for years.
Frankly, the only thing that’s been holding the idea back is you: you got too big, too busy.
Without Cynthie Taylor, there is no movie.
” She leans forward. “But the script is great, Cyn. Really, something special. And a hole just opened up in your schedule.”
“They want to make it now ?” I’m trying to keep up.
“In two months, when you were due to start working on Iron Maiden .” Gayle is brisk.
“That is insane,” I say flatly. “There’s no way.”
“It’s not as wild as it sounds,” Gayle jumps in.
“Like I say, the script’s been doing the rounds for a while.
They want to use most of the original cast and crew—that’s part of the draw, so there’s no messing around convincing producers that this guy or that gal is the right choice.
The scheduling has fallen into place like you wouldn’t believe.
The original locations in the UK are available, and they’ll shoot the rest on the same lot in the studio outside London.
I swear, it’s like the universe is behind this movie. Even Logan is on board.”
“Logan?” I frown. “I thought he was doing the next Marvel movie?”
Logan Gallow is Jasmine Gallow’s twin brother. A Lady of Quality was the first and last film they ever directed together and the experience was… interesting. Logan went on to direct a bunch of action blockbusters, while Jasmine’s sporadic output has been much more arthouse.
“Wait.” The final piece of the puzzle slips into place. I blame my muddled brain for the fact it’s taken this long. I look at Hannah, and she gazes innocently off to the side, careful not to meet my eye. “What about Jack?”
Saying his name makes my stomach hurt again.
If I hadn’t been looking for it, I don’t think I would have noticed Gayle’s infinitesimal hesitation. “That’s the best part. He’s just wrapped the latest series on his show,” she says brightly. “If you’re in, he’s in.”
I absolutely cannot make a film with Jack Turner-Jones. I can’t even be in the same room with Jack Turner-Jones.
Thirteen years ago we swore we’d never see each other again. It’s a promise we’ve managed to keep.
I close my eyes.
Apparently, that’s about to change.