Chapter 12
Tasha had zero clue what was running through the cameraman’s head. She just kept vibing with Stuart, totally crushing their
scene.
Angelica hadn’t yelled “cut,” so she was clearly feeling it. She might’ve missed Tasha’s slick little improv, but Angelica knew good acting when she saw it.
The scene wrapped clean and easy. Next up: the big moment. Zeph got caught red–handed, and Stuart was in his face, demanding, “Who’s behind this?” Just as Zeph was about to snitch on Mary, she casually grabs a linseed muffin from the table.
Boom–Zeph clammed up. Why? Those muffins were his kid’s favorite. Mary’s sending a loud–and–clear message: mess with me, and your family was in trouble.
Zeph was trapped, no way out. In a gut–wrenching mix of rage and despair, he pulled a gun and aimed it at his own head.
Before he pulled the trigger, he shot Mary a look so raw and broken it gave her nightmares for days.
Yeah, this plot’s straight–up unhinged. Zeph, a jewelry guy, just happened to carry a gun. And the ritzy Sterling Manor let him waltz in armed, no pat–downs or nothing.
Sure, it was all to show Mary’s a stone–cold villain, but Tasha couldn’t help thinking it was also about how a few shiny trinkets could push a veteran jeweler to the edge. Oh, and maybe a jab at how lousy security’s a total dumpster fire.
But the plot was for the director and writers to stress over. Tasha was just a small–fry extra with no say. Scene done, filming paused. Props crew ran up, tossed her a fake gun, and it was back to business.
Zeph went pale as a ghost, throwing a desperate look at Mary, praying his boss would toss him a lifeline.
The Lady fiddled with her pearl necklace, her face calm but her eyes distant, like she was whispering a prayer.
That little gesture gutted Zeph. He knew he was done–a discarded pawn.
Sweat beaded on Zeph’s forehead, shining like crazy.
The script called for makeup to mist Tasha’s face for that “sweaty” look, but this newbie was dripping for real. No spray needed–it was way better than anything the makeup crew could’ve faked. The makeup artist kicked back, thrilled to dodge the work.
Tasha’s sweat gleamed, echoing the pearls sliding through Mary’s fingers. Pearls rolled, sweat fell–almost poetic.
Stuart kept hounding Tasha. “Mr. Neal, you hiding something or what?”
For once, Stuart had a co–star he could loom over, and he milked it, stepping close to flex his “big guy” vibes.
Behind the monitor, Angelica shook her head. “Dude, tone it down,” she muttered.
Stuart was overdoing it. Zeph’s face screamed “I’m so screwed” loud enough for the back row, but this rich kid kept pushing like a smug bully. It made Stuart look like a jerk.
Then Stuart went too far. He inched closer and–yep–blocked half of Zeph’s face with his head.
Total blocking fail. Angelica’s brow creased, a “Cut!” on her lips, but she held back.
Spooked by Stuart’s intensity, Zeph staggered back, slipped, and–bam!-hit the ground, landing hard on his butt.
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Chapter 12
That fumble pulled Zeph’s face back into the shot, and man, it was perfect. His character’s panic and chaos spilled out, clear as day.
“Nice one!” Angelica whispered, grinning.
Directors yelled “cut” all the time, but they hated it. Every cut meant a screw–up, a delay, a headache. Anyone who spared Angelica that grief was golden.
The costume designer, though, winced from the sidelines with a quiet “Ouch.”
Summer costumes were thin, and the script didn’t have Zeph eating dirt, so no pads were prepped.
Tasha had just dropped like a pro, smooth as silk, no stumble. ‘Is her butt steel? Does she even feel pain?”
What floored the designer more was Tasha’s next move. Instead of sitting there dazed, she crawled a few steps toward Mary.
The designer couldn’t even imagine the state of Tasha’s knees.
Angelica’s brow twitched, but she didn’t stop the scene. She was hooked on Zeph’s every move, totally forgetting the leading man. This random extra was stealing the show.
Zeph, mid–crawl, slapped a hand to his waist and yelled, “Ma’am, please, give me a break!”
Halfway there, Zeph froze, looked up, and let a flash of despair cross his face.
Angelica’s eyes lit up–she got it. Tasha was killing it.
Zeph stopped at just the right spot, not too close or far from Mary. From the side camera, the framing was straight–up gorgeous. Pure gold.
Zeph let out a guttural shout, ripping the gun from his belt and blasting it right at his own temple.
Gotta toss in some killer sound effects in post to make it pop.
Then Zeph crashed to the floor with a heavy thump.
The script said the corpse’s eyes should have “a spooky glow,” but how spooky? That was on the actor to figure out.
The average performer would just roll their eyes back and call it quits. Post–production would slap on some creepy red veins and eerie music, and–bam!-even a goofy squint could pass for a horror movie.
But Tasha wasn’t about to phone it in.
Mouth wide open, she heaved like she was fighting for her last breath. No lazy eye–roll here–her stare was intense, almost obsessive, glued to Mary’s fingers like they held the secrets of the universe.
The actress playing Mary twitched, her fingertip shaking just a smidge.
Tasha’s gaze locked in, her eyes mirroring Mary’s silhouette like a still, inky pool.
“Cut!“Angelica’s voice sliced through the tension. Tasha popped up, blinking like crazy.
She’d kept her eyes wide open the whole time, playing dead without a single blink. No wonder they were screaming for mercy.
The crew stood frozen, waiting for Angelica’s take.
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Chapter 12
She sauntered over, gave Tasha a pat on the shoulder, and grinned. “Solid work, kid.”
Everyone exhaled. Tasha had gone off–script, and they’d all been sweating a do–over.
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But Angelica was totally cool with Tasha’s freestyle. Had to be–Stuart had been flopping around like a fish, blocking half her face. No one delivered lines like that. Not in a fancy historical drama, and definitely not in some low–budget soap opera.
Tasha’s tweak didn’t just save the scene; it gave it some real zip, way better than the stiff, stand–there–and–talk script. Angelica didn’t buy that it was intentional, though–Tasha was too young, too new to be pulling mastermind moves. Probably just dumb luck.
The set chilled out. The old pro playing Mary ambled over, chuckling. “Damn, kid, you’ve got some serious skills! Nearly scared the pants off me with that crawl.”
Tasha gave a shy grin but kept quiet.
Angelica jumped in. “Hey, we’re doing a quick reshoot of you getting nabbed by the guards. Plus a few close–ups of your hand gripping the gun.”
Tasha nodded. The assistant director leaned in, confused. “Reshoot what now?”
Angelica, all smiles, broke it down. “Zeph’s got the guts to team up with Mrs. Sterling and frame the heiress. You think he’d just eat a bullet without a fight? I want shots that scream he was this close to taking her out, but the guards shut him down, and he gave up in despair.”
The assistant director’s face lit up. “Oh, so that’s what-” He blanked on her name.
“Tasha,” Tasha said, all polite.
“Right! That’s what Tasha was playing at!” He nodded hard. “I’m on it.”
Angelica added, “Tell post to skip the blood splatter on the ground. Have it hit Mrs. Mary Sterling’s skirt instead–Tasha’s fall was spot–on for it.”
“Pure genius!” the assistant director crowed, not holding back since he and Angelica were tight.
Tasha didn’t join the hype train. She just said, “Cool, I’m off to reshoot. Thanks, Ms. Marshall.”
Angelica dug that–low–key, sharp, and ready to roll. “Knock it out, kid.”
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