“Anton,” she hissed when he came over. “What the hell? Do I really have to put up with this idiot? That’s the third take this guy has ruined by manhandling me. I mean, can’t we have any muscular goober play this role? It’s not like you see his face.”
“Corinne,” Anton said diffidently in slightly broken English, “you know Terry is important for scenes without mask before Chastity knows he is killer. We must have a strong performer. It will not be able to believe if the killer in mask is another actor. Audience will know. But I will remind him to be soft on the neck.”
Corinne was unmoved.
“How many times does the dolt have to be reminded?” she demanded. “I swear I’m surrounded by morons. I thought you were supposed to be the Polish Ari Aster.”
She could see crew members shaking their heads out of the corner of her eye. Behind her, someone grumbled, barely intelligibly.
“At this rate we’re gonna have another Olivet-style breakdown.”
She spun around, ready to give the rumor-monger a tongue-lashing too. But before she could identify the culprit, Anton stepped forward.
“Corinne, please…” he began.
“Please, nothing,” she cut him off. “Here’s what’s going to happen. I’m going to my trailer to decompress. You find someone other than Terry Slauson to choke me without leaving permanent contusions on my trachea. And if you can’t do that tonight, then we’ll just have to pick the shoot back up tomorrow. It’s getting late anyway. And while you’re at it, maybe you can tell your crew to keep their sneering and grumbles to themselves until I leave the set. I may be a bitch, Anton. But I’m the bitch in charge. Don’t you forget that.”
She stormed off the soundstage, her assistant, Monica, scurrying to keep up. Corinne looked back at her derisively.
“Maybe you should work out a little more, Monica,” she chided. “Then you wouldn’t be huffing and puffing so much. Plus, you could fit into those slacks better. You look like you’re hiding a loaf of bread under that waistband.”
Monica said nothing, which made Corinne happy. The girl was dumpy but she was a fast learner who was picking up the most important lessons: Do as you’re told. Keep your mouth shut.
They reached Corinne’s Star Waggon trailer just behind soundstage 32, next to the New York back lot at Sovereign Studios. Corinne opened the door, stepped up, and looked back at Monica, holding up her hand to deny her entry.
“You tell Anton that he’s got ten minutes to find a new Marauder for the scene. After that, I’m going home.”
“But Ms. Weatherly,” Monica pleaded.
“The clock is ticking,” Corinne said, holding up her phone before slamming the door in the simpleton’s face.
She moved over to the makeup chair, sat down, and stared at herself in the mirror. Her dyed blonde hair looked brittle. In the harsh light, all the lines she’d tried so desperately to hide seemed to glow. Her body was still tight, but it was getting harder to keep it that way. For half a decade now, she’d fought the urge to get work done. No matter how good the surgeon might be, when a face was plastered on a multi-story movie screen, she could almost always tell who was getting a little extra help. But the time might have finally come.
It would depend a lot on this film. If it did well, she could hold off a few more years on going under the knife. If it tanked, there was some nipping and tucking in her near future. These sorts of concerns never entered her head back when she was the hot new Hollywood ingénue.
After breaking out over a decade ago with the romantic comedy Petals and Petulance, she’d landed the coveted lead in Marauder, the high-brow, psycho-sexual horror thriller. Her character, Chastity Ronin, was technically a victim, but she was also a badass who ultimately turned the tables on her murderous stalker.
The film was a financial and critical hit and, on the heels of Petals and Petulance, it established her as a real up-and-comer. Unfortunately, the sequel tanked. In the eleven years since, the film roles had gotten less glamorous until they dried up completely. She’d recently been reduced to hosting a prime time game show involving marginally talented children she had to pretend to find adorable.
But then she’d found that elusive golden nugget, admittedly with some assistance and well-placed pressure. The Marauder franchise was being rebooted and a lauded horror helmer from Europe, Zyskowski, had been