The First Entertainment Industry Contract
Once she made up her mind, the decision clicked into place, and the lawyer in her took over before she could stop it.
"Is that pay before or after taxes?" Avery asked, the words slipping out so fast they surprised even her.
Dexter blinked, caught off guard. He'd expected a negotiation, not an immediate question about tax law. A half-smile touched his lips. "After taxes," he said. "It's a service contract, so the production company handles all the withholding."
"Good," Avery said, her tone all business. "When can we sign?"
Impressed by her decisiveness, Dexter just handed her his phone. "Add me on Messenger. If you're free now, we can head to the office and get it done."
"Alright." Avery pulled out her phone and sent the request.
Only then, as he accepted it, did Dexter seem to remember she was still technically a patient. "The role isn't physical at all, so the injury won't be an issue, right?"
A little late for that, she thought. If he'd really been worried, he wouldn't have offered her the part to begin with. "It's fine," she said, her voice perfectly even. "It won't be a problem."
The irony was, the injury that had actually killed her, the original Dr. Hayes, anyway, was to the back of her head.
But there was no external wound, just a diagnosis of a severe concussion after she woke up in this new life.
She didn't have the energy to dig into it.
You die, you get reborn in someone else's body...
what was she supposed to do, hire a psychic? It was easier to just move on.
"Okay, Dr. Hayes, just give me a minute. I'll go get the car," Dexter said, tucking his briefcase under his arm.
As he left the diner, he pulled out his phone and made a call. "Duke, you can stop looking for a second female lead. I found someone, and she's coming to the studio to sign the contract right now. Have Liam get the papers ready; we'll be there in about an hour."
"You found someone? Who is it?" the director, Duke, asked from the other end.
"A doctor from a top-tier hospital, playing herself."
Duke was quiet for a second. "Well, that works. She's not a pro, but playing herself shouldn't be too hard."
"Exactly," Dexter replied. "And it beats waiting another day."
He hung up, jingling his keys as he headed for the parking lot.
This was a massive relief. The actress they'd originally cast had gone down with acute appendicitis just that afternoon, he'd been the one to drive her to the ER.
Now she was post-op and completely out of it.
With location rentals and crew schedules locked in, they couldn't afford to lose a single day.
They needed a replacement, fast. He'd been about to start calling indie actors, but this was better.
Dr. Hayes had the right look, the right personality, and she'd basically be playing herself. Best of all? A newcomer came cheap.
A few minutes later, Dexter pulled up to the curb.
Avery got in, and they headed for the film studio thirty miles away.
As they drove, the hustle of downtown Westlake City gave way to rolling hills.
About forty minutes later, historic brick and stone buildings rose around them, their ornate rooftops silhouetted against the night sky.
The city government had turned this charming old town, with its bridges and canals, into a professional film and television studio, and it was buzzing with activity.
Dexter knew his way around, weaving the car past several active sets before parking in front of a rented courtyard.
The place was a disaster zone of equipment cases and smelled like a mix of three different kinds of takeout.
Avery followed him through the chaos and into an office that was, by contrast, almost clinically neat.
Inside, a middle-aged man with a prominent bald spot was hunched over a script. Another, younger man stood nearby, his shirt buttoned to the collar, rimless glasses perched on his nose. He was studying a stack of documents, the lamp glinting off his lenses.
Dexter walked in without knocking. "Duke, she's here. This is Dr. Hayes. Talk to her, see if she's a fit. If she is, we'll sign tonight." He dropped his briefcase on a table and, to Avery's surprise, turned to pour her a glass of water. It seemed an unusually down-to-earth gesture for a producer.
But then, he wasn't just any producer, and she wasn't just any actress.
His father was still laid up in her hospital.
Even though Avery had resigned, Dexter didn't dare get on her bad side.
What if he pissed her off and she dropped a comment in some group chat?
The last thing he needed was the hospital staff giving his dad the cold shoulder.
Duke watched the exchange and got the message loud and clear. With the producer treating her like that, he knew better than to raise any objections.
He turned his attention to Avery. She was tall and slim in a simple gray cardigan, with the kind of lean frame the camera loves.
Her face was pale, but her amber eyes held a cool, natural detachment.
As a director, he immediately stopped seeing a doctor and started seeing a shot.
The structure of her face, the way she held herself with that quiet, clinical confidence...
she was made for the camera. A wave of relief washed over him. That look alone was worth the money.
"Dr. Hayes, right? I'm Joel Duke," he said, cracking a smile.
"Hello, Director Duke. Please, call me Avery," she replied, shaking his offered hand.
"Liam," Duke said, waving the man with the glasses over. "Is the contract ready? Bring it here and let Dr. Hayes take a look."
The man, Liam Jennings, stepped forward and handed her the contract along with a pen. "Ms. Hayes," he said, his voice as neat as his appearance. "If you'd just review this and sign at the bottom."
The second the papers were in her hand, something shifted.
The tired patient vanished, and a switch flipped in her brain.
Her entire posture changed. Her amber eyes, moments ago just coolly observant, sharpened with a forensic focus.
The pages rustled softly in the quiet office as she scanned them, her speed breathtaking.
She wasn't reading; she was dissecting. Liability, payment terms, likeness rights, her gaze flew from one key clause to the next.
In less than a minute, she was done.
She didn't sign. Instead, she squared the pages into a neat stack and pressed them flat against the table with one hand. The sound was quiet but final. Then, she lifted her head, her calm gaze landing directly on the production's lawyer, Liam Jennings.
The air in the room went tight. Both Dexter and Duke straightened up, surprise flashing across their faces. They had hired a doctor. They hadn't expected to find a shark. The woman before them had a presence that could anchor a show, no acting required.
Avery let the silence hang for a beat, a faint, knowing smile playing on her lips. "Mr. Jennings," she said, her voice smooth as glass. "Are you sure this contract is for an actor to sign?"