34. Reese
Chapter 34
Reese
October 10th
HOLLYWOOD SHOCKER: America’s Sweetheart Reese Sinclair Takes Dark Turn as Bad Boy Dante Hastings Goes Clean!
October 10th
EXCLUSIVE: America’s Sweetheart Shocks Fans with Late-Night Burlesque Show: Is Former Role Model Leading Youth Astray?
October 10th
Filming Resumes for Robyn Hood —Will It Be the Next Blockbuster or a Major Flop?
October 10th
Sinclair’s Private Jet Lifestyle: A Deep Dive Into Her Carbon Footprint
October 10th
TABLOID DRAMA: “Bad Girl” Reese Sinclair Spotted Partying While Reformed Bad Boy Dante Hastings Remains on the Sidelines—Sources Say She’s “Desperate” to Derail His Olympic Comeback!
I take a sip of my Berg water as I scroll through the headlines.
An uncomfortable feeling churns in my stomach. What is happening?
Photos from the burlesque club shouldn’t even exist—they had a strict no-phones policy. It’s a grainy picture taken from what looks to be under a table. What a way to spend your Saturday night, I guess. Being an absolute creep and sneaking in phones to places where phones shouldn’t be.
I skim the headlines again and cringe. Calling my dance a “striptease” is a stretch. That slip had more fabric than half the gowns on red carpets these days.
How do I fix this?
I’ve seen this happen countless times, where the media turns on women overnight. But I had a plan.
The voice of doubt returns. Heather and Geraldine warned me about this. How I wouldn’t be able to fix my reputation after diving headfirst into this new version of myself.
But maybe I can still handle it. I hope so.
Heather sends another message, and my pulse spikes as I open it.
Heather
Tell me you didn’t?
Article link: Did She Really Cut It? Sinclair’s Shocking New Hairstyle Leaves Fans Questioning If It’s for Robyn Hood or Her New Image by Susan Martin for the Stone Times
My eye twitches.
Is this day going to continue to get worse?
Twenty-four hours since my haircut, and the world already knows. The picture in the article looks like it was taken this morning—Dante walking me to the gym. His hood is up, but my new hair is on full display.
What on earth do these reporters have against me? From the snakes at A! to the journalists at Sweet Southern and these jerkfaces at the Stone Times . I read the byline. Susan Martin.
What on earth have I ever done to you, Susan?
Ever since that first leak, when Dante and I went to the beach, the Stone Times has had a permanent stakeout in my life. Ugh. I was silly to think I could keep it quiet for a little longer.
Panic bubbles in my system, and I hold the cold water bottle to my chest, focusing on the coolness against my skin.
Four. Seven. Eight.
Maybe I can still get control of the situation.
What’s true?
I love my new hair. It’s bold. It’s mine.
Which means I won’t let them twist it into something I regret.
“Reese, break’s over! Got you all racked up for chest presses.” Tori’s voice snaps me out of my thoughts. She’s already got the barbell ready, two twenty-pound weights on each side. A new record for me, but I’m too distracted to care.
I need to burn through some of this anger coursing through me.
I grunt, shoving my anger into the next two sets, each press harder than the last. Tori adds another five pounds on each side—ninety pounds total.
“Last rep! Make it count!” Tori shouts. “Push it, Reese! Channel your inner warrior!”
I grit my teeth. It’s only our first day training together, but my new trainer’s enthusiasm is exactly what I need—a refreshing change from Nick’s gruff commands.
“How’s that for warrior energy?” I wipe the sweat from my forehead with my towel. I’m already feeling better.
“Absolutely fierce! Now let’s move to those weighted lunges. Want to know my favorite thing about training actresses?”
“Hit me. Actually, don’t—I’m pretty sure a strong breeze could take me down right now.”
“The raw intensity women bring to every session. It’s about discovering your own capacity for strength. Every rep, every drop of sweat is you claiming your space, owning your power. That’s what real transformation looks like.”
“I never liked weight training before, but I have to say, in the last four months, it’s grown on me.” I grab a thirty-pound dumbbell for lunges. “Like I’m finally doing this for me, not just for the role. Though the role definitely appreciates these newfound abs.” I lift up my shirt, glancing at the tiny bit of definition on my previously slim, line-free stomach.
Tori demonstrates the lunge with fluid precision. I mirror her movement, wobbling. My phone vibrates. More headlines?
“I saw you skimming articles over there.” Tori catches my eye. “By the look on your face, I’m assuming it’s bad?”
“Is it that obvious?”
“Look, I don’t know what they’re saying, and I don’t care. You know who else was hung out to dry in the press? Portman when she gained twenty pounds of muscle for Thor . Sweeney, who transformed completely for that biopic about the boxer Christy Martin.” Tori adjusts my form with a gentle touch. “The strength you’re building? It’s not just physical.”
“But the press—”
“Will always have something to say,” she cuts in, glancing pointedly at where the male actors are training. “You know what’s funny? No one’s telling them they’re too much of anything. They’re just right, aren’t they? But every actress I’ve trained worried about getting t oo bulky at first. We’re always told to be smaller, to fit in better, to slim down. But when women start taking up space unapologetically, whether in action films or weight rooms, we’re changing more than our bodies. Hell, maybe we deserve to take up too much space.”
I steady myself, finding my balance. “So what you’re saying is…”
“Ten more,” Tori encourages as the burn in my muscles intensifies.
She’s right. No one gets to define me.
As I take a rest after my final lunge, the gym door swings open. In walks Amara—or glides, really, because that’s what happens when you possess her kind of effortless cool. Her box braids are arranged in an intricate crown, and she’s rocking overalls with a blue shirt and Docs. Script in one hand, clipboard in the other, headset perched above her head.
“Happy first day of filming, everyone!” she sings before locking her gaze on me. Her mouth drops open. “Darling, I simply had to see if the rumors were true. Had to witness this transformation firsthand.”
“Amara!” I jump off the bench, my sweaty skin peeling from the leather. “Sorry, I meant to find you earlier but heard you were in meetings—”
But she’s already appraising me. “This is absolutely divine. Reminiscent of our dear Posh Spice.”
“You like it?”
“Um—I love it!”
A weight lifts off my chest. “It felt right for Robyn.”
“Though I must confess, I’m rather disappointed.” My heart falters. “You should’ve called me right away! We could’ve gotten the whole hair transformation on camera—it would’ve been such a killer scene. The footage would’ve been—!” She puts her fingers to her lips and makes a chef’s kiss.
“Actually, I was up half the night tweaking the script to make it work better,” I add, shifting my weight and wiping my sweaty hands on my leggings. “I emailed my notes this morning. They’re rough, but I think they could really work.”
“Tell me.” Amara taps her phone, bringing up my email.
“I was actually thinking that during that first sparring match, when my braid gets in the way, instead of it being this big dramatic thing, Robyn grabs a knife and cuts it off, because why keep something that’s a liability in a fight?”
“Reese, this isn’t gold—this is the kind of scene that will inspire thousands of re-creations and spawn at least three PhD dissertations on feminist cinema.” Amara claps her hands together. “We are in perfect sync.”
The energy between us crackles with creative possibilities. I haven’t felt this kind of instant connection since Cleo—that rare spark when someone gets your vision completely.
“You’re not simply stepping into the part,” Amara declares, pacing the floor with infectious energy. “I’ll have wigs here tomorrow. We’ll restructure the opening to showcase this moment and spend the day making sure all the choreo is nailed. It’s perfect.”
“Even if the press is having a field day with it,” I say, eyeing my phone. Has anything else surfaced?
“Oh, honey, those articles?” Amara waves her hand dismissively. “Free publicity. They’re doing our marketing for us. Have you seen what they’re writing about me? How I won’t be able to direct an action movie?” She laughs. “If I stopped directing because some man said I can’t do it, I’d never make a movie again. How stupid would that be? Ignore them.”
She’s right, of course. Time to channel my inner executive producer.
I could invite these critics to set, let them witness what it looks like when a woman claims her power without apology. Let them see how spectacularly wrong they are about everything. About me, about Dante, about what strength really means.
A slow smile spreads across my face as an idea forms. “Or what if we turned this around? Instead of doing a press conference to announce Robyn Hood, we could invite the press onto set? That way, they wouldn’t leak pictures of us.”
“Now you’re thinking!”
The plan crystallizes in my mind, sharp and clear as a diamond. We could turn this into a whole circuit, bringing someone from every publication that wrote about the burlesque night. Especially the Stone Times . Let them all see what they think they understand so well.
“Let them watch me nail the three-person opening fight sequence we’ve been drilling.” I straighten up. “And while we’re at it…I can officially announce my new look, get ahead of the narrative. I’ll have Heather and Geraldine coordinate everything.”
Make them talk about my hair and Robyn Hood , not me dancing half-naked on stage.
“Look at you, playing chess while they’re playing checkers. This is exactly why I wanted to work with you.”
“This is going to change everything.”
A tiny voice whispers, Be careful what you wish for . But I ignore it.
Amara gives my shoulder a squeeze before stepping back. “Come find me when you’re done here. I want you to see how we’re setting up the first shot. And I still owe you a camera placement walkthrough.”
Then she turns to address the gym.
“Everyone else—” She claps once. “I know you all got your welcome emails, and I love seeing you already putting in the work. I’ll do formal introductions in two hours, but just know I am so excited to be working with you all. It’s going to be an intense nine weeks, but we’re going to make something amazing. And if you have any issues, come to me!”