37. Reese
Chapter 37
Reese
October 22nd
Robyn Hood Stars SPILL THE TRUTH: “No Doubles Used—Sinclair’s Stunts 100% REAL! Can She Pull It Off? Vote Here!
October 29th
SINCLAIR POWER PIXIE or Another Britney Breakdown?
November 2nd
Hastings Spotted Coaching After-School Youth Fencing Team
November 7th
NO Recent Sightings of SinHaste: Is This Couple Over Before They Even Started?
November 10th
The Beginning of the End of America’s Sweetheart
By Susan Martin
“Time to move!” Merrick shouts, gesturing urgently toward the getaway rafts bobbing on the dark water.
“Get out of here!” I clash blades with a guard, the impact sending vibrations through my arms. “I’ve got this covered!”
“But—”
“That’s an order!”
A guard lunges. I spin, parry, and strike. The blood pack bursts perfectly, painting the deck crimson. One push sends him stumbling back into the water.
Behind me, Merrick crashes into a lantern. The prop ignites as planned, flames racing across the wooden deck. We’ve got one shot at this scene—no time for mistakes.
“This gold belongs to the people now!” I bite out.
Two more guards charge me. I deflect one blade, then strike. One guard staggers back with a convincing yelp, creating the perfect opening.
“You’re dead, Hood!” the other snarls.
“Better dead than watching your king feast while children starve!” I retort, blocking a strike.
But Robyn celebrates too soon. A lucky hit sends my sword spinning away. In the water, the dagger waits for my descent. I make sure camera four catches me noticing it as I stare into the dark water below.
I’ve trained for this.
Those endless practice sessions in the tub, the swim in the pool with Mama back home, the fearlessness I’ve developed—they’ve all led to this scene.
A blade finds my leg—well, finds the blood pack on my leg. I cry out dramatically. Moving fast, I roll away from an incoming hit and give myself some breathing room before the dive.
Ready. Set.
I plunge into the freezing lake. The water embraces me. Under my costume, Dante’s ring is cold against my chest, like the ice was that day he helped me get through my panic attack.
Through the murk, I spot my target, the dagger nestled between the rocks. I kick down, grasp it, push off the stone lakebed, and burst from the water before I climb back onto the dock.
“Thought you could get rid of me?” I taunt, twirling my blade exactly how Dante taught me.
The rest of the fight choreography is like muscle memory in my skin.
Duck, spin, sweep—one guard down.
Dodge, step in, strike—another falls.
“Tell your king,” I announce, “Northwood Forest has a defender now, and her name is Robyn Hood.”
The last guard grabs for the gold. I’m faster, snatching the bag away. With a smirk and a wink, I dive back into the water and swim toward the getaway rafts.
“CUT! Fucking marvelous!” Amara’s voice rings across the lake.
I stop swimming, gasping but grinning. The entire crew erupts in cheers and applause. Through the celebration, I spot Dante’s face as I swim toward the dock.
“I did it!” I exclaim. “From panic attacks to freakin’ perfect takes, and I called that last adjustment!”
Dante wraps a thick towel around my shoulders and pulls me into a tight embrace. “That dive was fucking perfect.”
“The suit worked perfectly—not a single leak! And the ring…Dante, the ring helped so much. It was such a smart idea; it kept me so present.” I swallow. “That fight sequence—did you see how smooth it was? I actually enjoyed being in the water! The angles I discussed with Amara have really worked.”
“Yes, baby, I saw all of that. I—” He stops, and something shifts in his expression.
Baby . Before I can stop myself, I rise onto my tiptoes and press my lips to his. In front of everyone, and I don’t care because there’s nothing I want more than to kiss Dante Hastings, dizzily and sweetly.
For one perfect second, there’s just us.
Then I remember we’re on set and pull away with an awkward laugh. “Oh, I’m sorry, I just got carried away there.”
“Reese.” I spot Heather at the dock’s edge, looking out of place among our medieval costumes in her crisp business suit and stilettos. Her expression is apologetic but urgent. “I hate to interrupt this moment,” she says carefully, “but I need to speak to you.”
My stomach tightens.
“You alright?” Dante asks.
“Yeah, totally fine,” I lie. “Just…Heather doesn’t do set visits unless there’s a five-alarm fire somewhere.” My fingers unconsciously trace Dante’s hands before I pull away.
I ache at the distance I create. This film, my vision, has to come first. Always first.
I give him an apologetic look before following Heather, who’s already clicking down the dock in her heels. My heart is still racing, but not just from the dive—it’s that familiar anxiety creeping in at the edges, the one that whispers I can’t afford any distractions.
My brain helpfully supplies worst-case scenarios. Is the movie cancelled? Did someone die? Are my parents okay?
“What’s going on?” I ask once we’re safely tucked away in a corner, forcing myself not to look back at Dante.
Heather’s weathered face softens. “Honey, I flew in from LA this morning. Didn’t feel right doing this over the phone, not after all these years.” She straightens her Chanel jacket. “Diamond Essence is pulling your campaign.”
The words hit me with a physical force I wasn’t expecting. My throat constricts. “I’m sorry, what?”
“The pixie cut, darling.” Her perfectly manicured hand gestures to my head. “Those shortsighted bastards are claiming ‘brand dissonance’ with their precious ‘long, flowing hair’ aesthetic.”
A hysterical laugh escapes me, but inside something cracks. “Are you kidding?”
“Those people don’t deserve you anymore. We had a damn good run with them, but honestly—” She leans in conspiratorially, like she did when I was an overwhelmed teenager at my first premiere. “You’ve outgrown them. You’re heading into your thirties, starring in prestige pictures. This film? It’s going to change everything. You had the right idea pushing for this, and now that Langford is gone, it’s right.”
My fingertips feel numb. The adrenaline from the stunt is crashing, leaving me hollow. “They really just want to drop me?”
“You need partnerships that reflect where you’re going, not where you’ve been.”
“But we’ve already shot everything—the commercial, the social media campaign,” I protest.
“The coverage we ran from this set two weeks ago was a mixed bag. Good news is that the burlesque photo situation is dying down—yes, rather slowly, but Geraldine’s working her usual magic there.”
I shift uncomfortably, my wet clothes clinging to my skin. It’s as if my body no longer belongs to me.
“Level with me, Heather. Is it just the haircut?”
“The image shift makes them nervous,” Heather says carefully, her eyes flicking to Dante and the crew. “The edge, the evolution, the romance rumors…it’s not their brand. Plus, that Susan article is getting a lot of traction.”
I thought the Stone Times had dropped my story since all the other press that covered my on-set press release ran their articles last week. But no.
Susan Martin dug everything she could out of my closet, weaving rumors about relationships with costars, directors, everything. My movies pulled apart and dissected. Every interview I’d ever given put under a microscope.
Geraldine had warned me against speaking to the press directly, but I did it anyway. I figured I’d get to tell my truth. But Susan doesn’t want my truth; she wants to make her career out of slandering mine. And I might’ve given her the ammo.
“Everything in her article was a lie,” I say, the words tumbling out too quickly to be convincing. It hurts more than I thought it would. The weight of everything I’ve been holding back presses down on me.
I think of Dante’s face after our kiss, the way he looked at me like I was both precious and strong. The vulnerability in his eyes was real, but it’s the power I can’t ignore. It’s not just the Hollywood story. It’s my story now.
As an executive producer, I have to keep moving forward strategically. My feelings for Dante are real, and maybe for now that’s all that matters. I can stay out of the media for the next five weeks while we finish filming, and when I reemerge, the public will have moved on to someone else.
“Of course it was. I’m working on getting the article pulled,” Heather says with diplomatic smoothness. “But Diamond Essence already signed on Summer Brown—nineteen, fresh from Tennessee, sweet as pie. Just like you used to be. Just like they wanted you to stay.”
The words sting more than I expected. Diamond Essence was my first national campaign, the one that helped me buy my house in LA. Their shampoo’s magnolia-peach scent still lingers in my master bath. I’ve become the woman I wanted to be, but saying goodbye to this chapter hurts more than I thought it would.
“They want that version of me back,” I snap, combing my hand through my wet pixie cut. The cut is mine—even if it’s costing me this campaign. Even if it might cost me more than that. “The sweetheart. But I can’t go back to being led. I’m finally the one doing the leading.”
“As you should be.”
Heather grabs my shoulders with the fierce protectiveness that’s guided my entire career. “Listen to me, kid. I’ve been in this town since Marilyn was doing test shots. You’re not only changing your look, you’re evolving. Making real moves. And some dinosaurs can’t handle evolution. But trust me, after this film drops, they’ll be begging to have you back. I’m already in talks with Starlight and Crown & Glory.”
“Those aren’t exactly Diamond Essence level…”
“The money’s different, yes. But here’s some wisdom from your ancient agent who’s seen it all: sometimes you have to lose the tiara to find your crown. Like you said yourself, you can’t stay America’s sweetheart forever.”
I nod, too stunned to think. Each change has brought me something amazing—the role, the confidence, the executive producer credit, Dante—but I’m losing things too, pieces of who I used to be, fragments I didn’t know I’d miss. The price of ambition weighs heavy.
“Being Hollywood’s new queen pays better than being America’s sweetheart. Trust me on this one, kid.”
“Right.” My jaw clenches.
After all, I’m an actress. And as my hands flex and unflex against my sides, I realize I need to give the performance of my life. I need to be someone who isn’t watching their world shift beneath their feet, someone who isn’t mourning the ghost of who she used to be as she celebrates who she’s becoming. Someone who knows exactly what she has to sacrifice to get where she’s going.
I wanted this.