Chapter 63
Evie
The First Screening
“He’s left us no choice. Sebastian Shaw is a monster.”
“A monster?” I stared blankly at the executive who’d pulled me into his office after working a twelve-hour shift.
I was exhausted and just wanted to leave the studio.
To go home.
To go to Sebastian’s.
“Yes. He has killed four of my friends. I’m not sure why, but we think it has to do with trying to cover up his past indiscretions. We need to keep Hollywood safe, Evie. And we can’t do it without you and this Ich lüge bullet.”
I smiled at Arthur as he nodded enthusiastically.
He was telling me all about his grand idea for the final scene they wanted to shoot.
I prayed I hadn’t accidentally agreed to something, because I wasn’t listening.
How could I, when my mind was full of the text Sebastian had sent me right before I walked into Arthur’s office.
Psycho Killer: This isn’t fucking Heathers.
At first, I didn’t understand what he was trying to tell me, and then Arthur produced the bullet, and it clicked. Those were the same bullets Christian Slater’s character JD used in Heathers. There was no such thing.
Ich lüge means “I’m lying.”
Arthur’s hands waving in front of me brought me back to his office.
“Picture it. You and Sebastian, clothes torn, covered in dirt and cuts. Epic fires behind you, sirens blaring in the distance, and then, it’s just you two. You lift your gun, he follows, and then you say—”
“Simon says, motherfucker,” I finished his sentence, having already scanned the script.
He laughed and clapped, like one of those toy monkeys with the little cymbals.
“Yes! And then you shoot him! He’ll drop, you’ll run to him, not realizing it was a real bullet. As with any shoot with a gun, there will be proper staff on set to take care of him. He’ll be stunned, but nothing more. The Ich lüge bullet was made just for this.”
“For movies?”
“No, to scare the piss out of people.” Arthur sat back and sighed heavily. “I’m sorry you got wrapped up in this, Evie. I’m not entirely sure why he’s doing all of this, but Sebastian needs to be stopped. You’re our last hope.”
“What if I miss? This seems dangerous.”
“It won’t matter. Even if it hits his heart, the bullet can’t pierce his skin. You have to trust me. If we don’t do this, you might be his next victim,” he warned.
I parted my mouth to speak, but I had nothing to say. When I realized I wasn’t reacting, I gasped loudly. “He wouldn’t.”
“Oh, he would, and he might.” Arthur came around his desk and put his hand on my shoulder. I forced myself not to flinch away. This was the man who’d stabbed me. Memories of that night flashed through my mind as he continued speaking so close to me.
“Sebastian Shaw is a monster we’ve kept at bay for many, many years.
It started with your mother, but we think your return to Hollywood must have triggered something in him.
He’s hellbent on killing all the people he thinks have wronged him, and you may be next if he suspects you’re trying to sabotage the film that is going to turn him into a household name.
I’ve heard whisperings that a certain superhero franchise has been watching him. He won’t let you ruin that for him.”
“Because I don’t want to keep filming?” I asked.
This entire meeting was set up because I’d complained about the number of rewrites.
Now, they were scrambling for excuses to keep us here.
Sebastian and I both knew they were only prolonging this so they could keep an eye on us.
Arthur’s reasons were flimsy at best. It felt like he’d come up with this story just a few moments before I walked in.
None of it made sense, but I went along with it, hoping he’d hang himself.
“Exactly. But I’ve convinced him this is the last scene needed. He wanted to keep filming, but we knew you were getting exhausted, and the longer it goes on, eventually, he’ll kill again. It’s time to wrap. So, what do you say? Let’s stop this beast.”
I thought about the text again.
Even if I hadn’t received it, I wouldn’t have believed a word from this asshole’s mouth. He really thought I’d believe Sebastian killed my mother? This dude stabbed me.
“What are your hesitations?” Arthur asked.
“It’s hard to believe he had something to do with my mother’s murder,” I said honestly.
“Understandable. Unfortunately, I was the one who watched the security cams. It was without a doubt Sebastian Shaw who raped her, stabbed her, and later staged her murder to look like a suicide.”
I stared deep into his eyes, studying him. How could he lie so easily? He continued his fabrication without batting an eye.
“The studio made the mistake of covering it up. Why ruin multiple lives? We thought we were doing the right thing—keeping a boy with a bright future free but on a short leash. His urges had gotten the best of him, we thought. We were sadly mistaken and now need to take him down.”
“And a fake-out is going to do that?” I lifted the bullet, deciding to play his stupid fucking game. It didn’t feel rubber, although I’d never felt a real bullet to compare it to.
“Yes. He’ll see it as a warning.”
“Is that why you stabbed me? A warning?”
He was silent for a long time, then nodded. “Yes. I thought you were Sebastian. I didn’t look before I thrust the knife.” He hung his head, seemingly in shame. He was a good actor. “I am deeply sorry, Evelyn. I never meant to hurt you. You were never supposed to return.”
This man really thought he had me convinced. I gripped the arms of my seat. If I had a gun, I’d use the Ich lüge bullet right now and test it.
I seethed inwardly. I needed to get out of here. I couldn’t fake this anymore. Arthur walked across the room to a mini fridge. He opened it and pulled out a blue Red Bull.
“Are you thirsty? The blueberry is my favorite.”
I peered into the fridge and spotted a red can. “I’ll take peach.” He pulled it out and handed it to me, then offered a toast.
“What do you say? Are you in?”
I stared blankly at the wall behind him, then lifted my can. “We have such sights to show you.”
“What’s that?”
“Nothing.” I smirked. “Of course I’ll do it. It’s for the greater good.”
THAT NIGHT, I sat in my home theater, freshly showered, wearing one of my mother’s flowing pink nightgowns, watching her first film, Missing You, Missing Me. The storyline was shit, but her performance was impeccable. She was around my age yet appeared so much older.
Not physically. She was stunning until the day she died.
It was the way she carried herself, the confidence she always exuded.
She walked into a room with the expectation that everyone was there just for her.
She took no shit and yet was soft as a kitten.
I glanced at the rest of my couch, a small twinge of loneliness pulling at my heartstrings.
If this were Sebastian’s house, I’d be surrounded by dogs.
Sebastian would be wrapping a blanket around me and handing me a bowl of freshly popped popcorn with M&M’s, and we’d be snuggling in for another night of movies.
But it was mine, and I had no one to warm my feet or cuddle under my arms. There was no popcorn with M&M’s, and there was no Sebastian.
I missed him.
I pulled a throw blanket up to my chin and continued my melancholy reflection of my mother’s body of work. Tomorrow, I was expected to kill Sebastian. They really thought I was stupid. Did they forget the internet existed?
They literally fed me the plot from Heathers, for Christ’s sake. Ich lüge bullets? Come on. I made a living watching and deep diving movies. Did they really think I wouldn’t catch that reference?
I had a feeling everything would change tomorrow. Someone was going to die. Whether it was me, Sebastian, or someone else, I could feel it in my bones. There was going to be an incident.
After the movie finished, I left the home theater and drifted through the house, my feathery robe trailing behind me. My mom had been so much taller than me, I felt like a little girl playing dress up. I tightened the robe and went out the back door to stare at the moon.
Sebastian had asked me several times what I wanted after this was all over.
I hated to admit, but I’d begun thinking about it.
Up until now, I’d made a point not to think of life after my revenge because I was so sure if I made it through the whole list, the police would gun me down on the front lawn after my last kill.
But what if they didn’t? What if no one ever learned about what Sebastian, Bryce, Skye, and I did? What then?
I was starting to think it was time to sell this old place. I could get a pretty penny for the home of Lita Reyes—the Simon Says Final Girl.
Even if she hadn’t been a star, the house was impressive enough on its own.
But then what?
I sell this place and then…
“You want to leave, give me a day to pack my bags. We’ll take Precious and Cujo with us. We can get one of those motor homes and travel the country if you want. Or just live a quiet life in the woods, or on a beach, or in the fucking Arctic. I don’t care, as long as it’s with you.”
Sebastian’s words from our unofficial second date—out on the boat, disposing of his ex-agent’s body—filled my mind.
I hated how quickly my heart betrayed my brain.
It wanted all those things so strongly, it was willing to change course, abandon all plans of murder, revenge, and peace, in favor of… love.
Could I?
“Penny for your thoughts, Final Girl?”
Spinning around, I found Sebastian leaning against the doorframe of my house. His arms were crossed, and his playful smirk danced on his lips.
“What are you doing here?” I asked, rushing to him. I threw my arms around him and inhaled his scent deep into my lungs. Oh, how I needed him right now.
“I couldn’t stay away,” he admitted, embracing me tightly. “What happened at your meeting with Arthur?”
I pulled back and took his hand, leading him out into my backyard.
I didn’t come out here often, but as I gazed around, admiring the heart-shaped pool and all the pink furniture my mother had painstakingly picked out, the idea of selling this place hurt my heart.
I took Sebastian to the edge of the pool, where we pulled our clothes up to our knees and put our feet in the water.
“He wants me to kill you.”
“Oh my God,” Sebastian gasped dramatically. “Same!”
We shared a look then burst into laughter.
He gave me the rundown of his meeting, and then I told him about mine.
We’d both caught the odd bullet name from Heathers.
In the movie, Christian Slater told Wynona Ryder they were stun bullets.
He assured her they were safe to shoot, and then when they shot at the school bullies, Kurt and Ram, she discovered that he’d been lying, and they were real ones.
That was what Arthur and whoever had helped him plan this were doing.
They’d told Sebastian and me two different stories but given us the same lie about the bullets.
I wasn’t surprised by any of this, but I was a little bitter that I hadn’t been offered a producer’s credit.
“Even in the business of murder, women aren’t paid the same as men.” I reached for Sebastian’s hand and laced my fingers through his.
“So, what do we do, then?” he asked.
Good question. I stared out into the water. A tiny little plastic swan filled with chemicals drifted by, and I focused on it.
“We perform like we never have before. We pretend like we’re going to go through with things. And then…we don’t.”
“We could turn the guns on them,” Sebastian suggested.
I nodded. “We could. Although if your goal is to keep me alive, that isn’t the way to do it.”
“True.” He tightened his hold on my hand. “I do enjoy you being alive.”
I leaned close, resting my head on his shoulder. “We’ll figure it out. It’s funny that they tried to pit us against each other, and they thought you were self-centered enough to take the bait, and I was too stupid to see through them.”
“That’s Hollywood, Final Girl.” He turned and kissed my forehead.
We relaxed and spoke of other things for a bit, but we’d both had long days and would have another long one tomorrow, so we pulled our feet from the pool, and he took his leave.
I stood on the front steps, waving and watching him drive off. He would have stayed, but the dogs would miss him.
So would I.
A cold shiver ran through me, making me shudder. Going back inside, I locked the door behind me.
Tomorrow, I decided, I would make decisions. Plan a future with Sebastian if things went well. Or maybe, if things ended badly, I’d hide inside a closet upstairs and insist they break through the door and shoot me down, like I’d always planned. What a way to go.
People would paint portraits of my end.
Or I could abandon it all—for happiness.
Why did both ideas make me uneasy?
I went to bed, shutting off lights and checking locks as I moved through the house. I drifted to my mother’s old bedroom, my current room. I paused, staring at the spot where Glenn had thrown up and died.
What a shame. We could have saved him and my carpet if he hadn’t been such a pig.
As I lay in bed, preparing to fall asleep, my phone chimed. I knew who it was before checking, but still, I reached over and read the message.
Psycho Killer: Whatever happens tomorrow, just know... I was watching The Exorcist.
I set my phone down, wishing I could respond. I closed my eyes. The reply I couldn’t type danced on my lips in a heavenly sigh. One day, in person, I’d finish the quote and truly tell him how I felt.
Oh, Sebastian, it got me thinking of you.