Chapter 62
Sebastian
The New Deal
“Another rewrite?” I slapped the new script onto the table and leaped up. “This is bullshit. They are purposely prolonging this movie, and for what? There’s no way the sixth movie in a franchise needs this.”
I went to my mini fridge and grabbed a Red Bull.
We’d been at this for weeks. Rewrite after rewrite.
The studio executives kept adding more scenes.
They had Skye and me do sex scenes, Evie and me do more sex scenes, and everyone had a million extra fight scenes.
They filmed me dying, Evie dying, Bryce—the main character of the entire fucking franchise—meeting his final demise. It was becoming torture.
“I’ve never been on a film this long,” I yelled at Anderson as he came to the set—after I’d told Dante to fuck off when I was sent another new script.
“I know. I agree with you, Sebastian. I’m not entirely sure what the studio is doing either. They seem to be throwing more money at this movie to keep the cameras rolling. I’m going to ask for a higher salary for you.”
“You bet your ass you are,” I snarled. “I need a fucking break.”
“You want a break? I can do that. What do you want? Two weeks?”
“I want to be off this fucking set for good,” I groaned.
My agent watched me have a meltdown in my trailer, then nodded. “Okay, let me see what I can do.”
An hour later, I got a text that I had a meeting with a studio executive. Under normal circumstances, I’d be elated, but when I saw the name of who I’d be speaking to, my mood sank.
Arthur Englund.
The man who had stabbed Evie. The next man on her list.
I’d convinced her to take a break from her murder spree. I’d promised her that once the movie wrapped, I’d help kill them quickly, but the movie wouldn’t fucking end.
Connor, my assistant, drove me to Arthur’s office. I slammed my energy drink just as I walked through the door with his name on it. I tossed my can in the trash, wiped my mouth with the back of my hand, and plopped down in the chair in front of his desk, propping my boots on the edge.
“You called?”
Arthur looked a bit taken aback but quickly recovered. He cleared his throat and shifted papers on his desk.
“I heard you’re unhappy with the film schedule.”
“What schedule?” I laughed. “This is a joke. You’ve pushed back the wrap date every Friday for a month.”
“Yes, well—”
“No ‘well.’ Stop pussyfooting around and just spit it out.”
Arthur’s bumbling demeanor shifted. His smile dropped, and his eyes narrowed. “Remember who you’re talking to, Shaw.” His voice was cold, and I raised an eyebrow.
“You want to be done with all of this?” he asked and looked down, pulling out a drawer in his desk. “I have good news. We want to be done too. All of this...nonsense. Let’s finish it once and for all.”
His tone didn’t match his words.
“If I’m being candid, Sebastian, we’ve been filming more scenes because Evie has made it clear she will not be returning after this film.
We want to get our money’s worth for flashbacks and things like that.
When you create a franchise as prolific as Simon Says, you have to plan not just for the movie you’re currently working on, but the next five or six.
” While he spoke, he continued looking in his desk, shuffling things in each drawer.
“Evie wasn’t even scheduled this week.” I crossed my arms. “I call bullshit.”
“Yes, well, we are also planning for your possible exit.”
The words hung heavy in the air. He wasn’t talking about killing Ronny McCoy, the character I’d played since I was a kid. He was talking about me.
I slid my boots off his table, dropping them to the floor as I leaned forward. “What are you talking about? I’m not going anywhere.”
He stopped and looked up, a smirk playing on his face. “I think we both know that might not be true.”
“So, this is why you’re holding us hostage and making us film more every day? Because you’re preparing to kill us?”
He ignored my direct question, sidestepping it with ease. “Sebastian, I know what you’ve been doing. Rumor has it, your extracurriculars are going to be leaked soon, and you might not be Hollywood’s golden boy anymore.”
I froze but forced myself not to react violently. I regretted slamming the Red Bull as fast as I had. I was beginning to feel jittery.
“What extracurriculars are you referring to, Mr. Englund?”
It was a fair question. Even before this film started, I wasn’t exactly Steve from Blue’s Clues. It could be a plethora of things he was talking about.
Was it the sex or the murder?
He shook his head, his lips turning down into a sneer. “The deeds I am referring to are you deep throating this town’s top producers and directors to get gigs. Apparently, there are photos and videos of you doing whatever it takes to land a job.”
I laughed. He was mad about me being a slut for roles? No, this was just the excuse they’d be taking to the public. He knew. Otherwise, he wouldn’t have stabbed Evie.
“What is this? Are you jealous you didn’t get topped before I got taken? I’m sorry you were a little too late, but I can ask my agent about securing a deal with a dildo company. Maybe we can make some molds of my cock for the Hollywood elite.”
“Enough!” he yelled over me.
I shut my mouth, satisfied I’d gotten a rise out of him.
He slammed his hands on his desk and stood. “There’s a good chance you’ll never work in this fucking town again once people know what you did to land those jobs. Now, if you want all this to end, I need you to do something for me.”
“I told you I was taken, Arthur,” I snipped.
“You’re a goddamn child. Actually, fuck it. I’m done. We know you two have been killing everyone involved in Lita’s death. People aren’t fucking happy.”
“People as in Elliott Bradley? You don’t know shit, and neither do I. I’m sorry people have been killed, but I can’t help you, Arthur.” I stood, but he lifted his hand quickly.
“Wait!” His voice held a desperation that interested me.
I paused, giving him a careful look. Why had he changed his tune so quickly? Did Elliott Bradley have something to say about this meeting?
“I want to make a deal.”
“A deal?” I cocked my head to the side.
“Please, sit back down. Let’s work this out.” His face flushed bright red.
Humoring him, I sat down and leaned back in the chair.
“We know it’s her and that she’s had help. Jason and Charles—those men were too large for a girl so small to take down on her own. If she’s anything like her mother, she could convince anyone to do what she wants. We know it was you.”
“Do you now? What proof do you have?” I asked.
Arthur glared at me but didn’t answer. “I thought giving her a good poke would be enough to scare her, but it didn’t do anything.
If you agree to leave Elliott and me alone, I’ll make sure all that unsavory audition footage gets squashed.
And I’ll give you a producer credit and a good-sized bonus.
” He pulled a paper from the stack on his desk and offered it to me.
I scanned the contract. The offer for a producer credit and bonus was a number I’d never seen offered to me in my life.
“What if I’m not the killer? What if you die anyway? Then you’ve just made this offer for nothing.” I set the paper on his desk and reached for a pen.
He pointed to the bottom of the contract. “You’ll see at the end, if Elliott Bradley or I die in the next ten years, regardless of cause of death, the deal is off. Any monies paid will be owed back to the studio, and the proof of your sordid affairs with everyone in town will be released.”
I pulled away, pen still in hand, and shook my head. “No thanks. It’s clear someone has an issue with you. It’s not my fault if you get what’s coming. Release whatever you want. I’ll figure it out.” I stood to go, and he stopped me again.
“New deal!”
I sighed.
“One more scene. I want you and Evie to film a stand-off.” He shuffled papers and offered me a thin packet.
I took it and scanned the script.
“We don’t have proof it’s you helping her, but we know she’s the mastermind. We need you to scare her.”
I smirked. “Explain to me again why I would help you?”
“Because if you don’t get her to stop, we’ll have to do it. And it won’t be a quick jab this time.” His smile fell off, and he stared me down.
I shifted, and scanned the packet, suddenly a little interested. “And how am I going to do that?” I looked up from the script.
Arthur’s thin lips spread into a slow grin as he slid his hand inside his suit, pulling out a small, gray bullet.
“You’re going to stun her. Scare her a little, that’s all.” He offered it to me, and I took it, bringing it to eye level and turning it between my fingers. “You ever hear of an Ich lüge bullet?”