The Client Hired an Ancestor for Himself
The contract was a minefield, so Avery Hayes and her lawyer, Liam Jennings, spent nearly half an hour painstakingly disarming it.
First up was the payment schedule. They revised it to be crystal clear: thirty percent upfront when she joined the crew, another thirty on the last day of shooting, and the final forty percent on the fifth business day after production wrapped.
Next was the issue of likeness rights. Avery had never personally seen a production company bold enough to slip a clause into a contract that gave them carte blanche to use an actor's image for anything beyond promoting the show, but she wasn't taking any chances.
With her legal background, she knew that eliminating future problems meant scrutinizing every word.
If it was going to be in black and white, it had to be airtight, with no room for ambiguity.
The last point was a line that read: "During the filming period, the Actor agrees to comply with the Director's reasonable artistic guidance."
To Avery, that sentence was just as dangerous as any payment trap.
The gig paid a flat fee of fifteen hundred dollars.
What if the director decided to add unscripted action sequences or a kissing scene?
Was she supposed to just go along with it?
She had to spell it out. It wasn't that she was refusing to perform, a job was a job, but there had to be conditions. Different performances came with different price tags. It was a la carte, plain and simple.
The moment Avery made her point, Director Duke, who had been sipping tea by the coffee table, nearly choked. The two lonely hairs on his otherwise bald head seemed to quiver with indignation. He slammed his cup down and shot a glare at Dexter Reed before whipping out his phone.
*Director Duke: Where the hell did you find this diva? That clause can't be changed. The second female lead has an intimate scene.*
*Dexter Reed: Found her at the hospital entrance. If you want to shoot an intimate scene, you can go tell her yourself.*
*Director Duke: What am I supposed to do? If she changes this, we won't be able to film it!*
*Dexter Reed: She's the second lead. Just focus on the main actors when you shoot it. It'll be fine.*
*Dexter Reed: Your budget is already high for a short-form series. There's no extra money for special performances.*
Director Duke was speechless. This was a first.
In all his years in the industry, he'd never seen a client hire someone only to end up with a high-maintenance prima donna.
Dexter Reed was really something else. He had to admit, though, whether Avery could act or not, the fact that she could hold her own and make a lawyer like Liam Jennings break a sweat was impressive.
Giving up on Dexter, Duke opened his other group chats to vent to his friends.
Once the contract was finally amended, Liam carefully walked Dexter through the new terms.
By the time he was finished, both Dexter and Director Duke were stunned into silence.
The contract was a work of art, with rights and responsibilities so clearly defined that neither party could find a single gray area to exploit.
Dexter stamped the contract, looking completely dazed. Avery signed her name, confirmed the call time for the next day, and got ready to leave.
"The schedule's pretty tight, and we've got night shoots," Director Duke said, walking her out of the courtyard. "If it's not too much trouble, Dr. Hayes, it'd be best if you stayed with the crew for the duration of the shoot."
"Okay," Avery said with a small nod before leaving the film set behind.
She hailed a cab outside the historic district and headed straight back to the city. It was late, but the streets were still bright, sliced into a patchwork of light and shadow by the glowing signs and streetlights.
Her apartment was in Pleasantview, an old complex near the hospital with faded siding and a messy web of overhead wires. There was no elevator, but the short commute was why she'd moved here in the first place, like most of the other medical staff who lived in the building.
The motion-sensor lights in the hallway flickered on and off as she made her way up the stairs, her footsteps feeling heavy.
Inside, she dropped her keys on the console table by the door.
The living room was sparsely furnished and obsessively neat.
It had the cold, impersonal tidiness of a place whose owner hadn't been home in a long time.
A photo of a family of three sat on the TV stand. The little girl in the picture, maybe seven or eight years old, was beaming. Avery's gaze lingered on the frame for a long moment before she turned and went into the bathroom.
The sound of the faucet turning on was loud in the small space. She let the hot water run over her face, washing down her cheeks, trying to calm the storm in her eyes.
After drying off, Avery found a large cardboard box on the balcony.
She began to carefully pack away all the things that had belonged to the *real* Dr. Hayes.
The family photo went in, too. Before sealing the box, her fingertips brushed over the little girl's smiling face. Then, she silently taped it shut.
She'd keep these things sealed away for now. Once she got justice for the woman whose life she now inhabited, she would find a place the doctor would have liked and burn them for her.
With the box packed, the room felt even emptier.
Avery set aside the daily necessities she'd need for the film set, then opened YouTube on her tablet.
She found a dozen videos on acting tutorials and started binge-watching, taking notes as she went.
If she was getting paid, she was going to do the job right.
She didn't stop until after two in the morning, rubbing at her throbbing temples as she finally turned off the tablet. Turns out no job was easy. Just trying to wrap her head around emotional arcs was giving her a migraine.
Avery yawned, switched off the living room light, and was about to head to bed when she heard a key sliding into the lock. She froze, her eyes snapping toward the door.
The door opened, and Cole Hayes's tall frame stepped inside.
"Why are you still up?" he asked, surprised to see her standing behind the sofa. He took a half-step back. "You're still recovering from a head injury. You shouldn't be staying up this late."
The tension in her shoulders eased. "Cole? What are you doing here in the middle of the night?"
"I have a complex surgery first thing tomorrow," he explained, tossing his keys onto the console table. "We were just going over the final steps. It was too late to drive all the way home, so I figured I'd crash here for a few hours."
"Oh. Well, you should get some rest," Avery said, turning away and heading for the bedroom.
She closed the door behind her and leaned against it, finally letting the exhaustion show on her face.
As an orphan, she'd never really been close to anyone.
She had no idea how to act around a brother and, frankly, didn't want to get too close to him.
He was too familiar with the *real* Dr. Hayes.
One wrong move and he might figure out something was off.
What happened to her was too bizarre to explain.
Maybe, just maybe, after she got justice for his sister, she could bring herself to confess.
Cole stared at the closed bedroom door. He opened his mouth to say something, then shut it, a deep furrow in his brow.
Her whole world had just been turned upside down.
She must be going through hell. He decided he'd find some time to take her back to their hometown for a while.
A change of scenery might help her move on.
The next morning, Cole was already gone when Avery emerged with her suitcase.
A cool, misty breeze brushed against her cheeks.
She stopped at a street vendor for a coffee and a donut, then stood by the road to wait for her ride.
She'd booked a car last night for eight o'clock, which gave her ten minutes.
Her phone rang. Avery set her coffee on top of her suitcase to answer.
"Dr. Hayes, I'm calling about your case," a voice said. "The District Attorney's Office has officially issued an arrest warrant. Bryce Sterling has been taken into custody, and the case is now moving to prosecution."
It was Lawyer Goodwin from the hospital's legal department. Since Avery had been injured at work, the hospital was handling all the legal follow-up.
"Okay. Thank you, Mr. Goodwin," Avery said calmly. She didn't bother asking when Bryce would be convicted. She knew the judicial process inside and out; this was her world, after all. The case was simple, the evidence was solid. It would be quick. Within three months, Bryce would be sentenced.
"One more thing," Goodwin added. "At this stage, the Sterling family will likely try to get you to sign a forgiveness statement. If anyone approaches you, just have them contact our department directly."
"They already tried," Avery said, taking a bite of her donut. "Some of the Sterlings came to the hospital yesterday. I told them no. I only have one request: prosecute him to the fullest extent of the law."
Her eyes scanned the bustling street. No wonder they'd been so desperate, offering her fifty thousand dollars. They must have known the arrest warrant was coming.