What she doesn’t say, but what I’m understanding, is that the biggest surprise is the real woman under the act. I need to figure her out.
Chapter Ten
LENA
“I needyou to appear more terrified,” Elliott demands, circling me like a vulture eyeing its next meal. “Remember, you’re about to watch Carlos get swept away to his death.”
“Except he didn’t die.” I cross my arms, struggling to balance on my good ankle. “He’s sitting right there, eating beef jerky, and cataloging which memory cards survived.”
The morning sun beats down on our makeshift camp beside the still-swollen creek. After yesterday’s rescue drama, I’d hoped for a quiet recovery day. Instead, I’m being asked to recreate my “emotional journey” during Carlos’s near-drowning—with more panic and less competence.
“The audience needs to feel the stakes,” Elliott insists. “The network specifically requested more vulnerability in your journey.”
“I tied a proper rescue harness and helped save a man’s life,” I say, my patience, already frayed, having snapped. “How is that not vulnerable enough?”
Elliott’s expression shifts to the condescending smirk I recognize from countless Hollywood meetings. “Listen, weappreciate your quick thinking yesterday. Impressive. But it doesn’t fit our established narrative arc.”
“What narrative arc?”
“You know ... fish out of water, struggling city girl slowly learning wilderness skills.” He gestures. “The audience is invested in watching you overcome your helplessness.”
“I’m not helpless.” The word grates, a throwback to a version of me I’m rapidly shedding. Or maybe, a version that was never me at all.
“Of course not.” His patronizing tone makes my skin crawl. “But your character arc?—”
“My character arc?” I repeat, heat rising to my face. “This isn’t a scripted drama, Elliott. Carlos nearly drowned. I used skills I possess to help save him. That’s the reality.”
“Reality needs reshaping sometimes to fit audience expectations,” he says with reasonableness. “Give me thirty seconds of looking terrified, perhaps call for Finn to help you, and we’ll move on.”
My fingers curl into fists at my sides. I take a deep breath, trying to contain the anger building in my chest. “No.”
Elliott blinks, surprised. “No?”
“No reshoot. No pretending I was helpless when I wasn’t.” I straighten my spine, ignoring the throbbing in my ankle. “Use the footage you have or none at all.”
A shadow falls across us. Finn stands nearby, arms crossed over his chest, observing our confrontation. I hadn’t registered his approach, but judging by the tight set of his jaw, he’s heard enough.
Elliott sees him too and pivots. “Finn! Perfect timing. Perhaps you can help explain to Lena why this reshoot is so important for the show’s continuity.”
Finn’s expression doesn’t change. “Sounds like she understands.”
“Then you can explain why it’s in her best interest to cooperate,” Elliott tries again. “The network?—”
“The network isn’t here,” Finn interrupts. “Lena made a choice. Respect it or don’t, but we’re not spending the morning staging fake distress when we have a real creek crossing to figure out.”
Elliott’s face reddens. “I need to remind both of you that you signed contracts. I have production requirements to meet.”
“And I have safety requirements that take priority,” Finn counters. “The water’s still rising. We need to scout an alternative route, not waste time with theatrical performances.”
Elliott shifts his eyes between us, aware he’s outnumbered. “Fine. We’ll use what we have.” He stalks away, muttering into his satellite phone.
When he’s out of earshot, I turn to Finn. “Thank you.”
“Don’t thank me yet,” he says. “He’ll find another angle.”
“Why did you stand up for me?” I ask. “It would have been easier to let me handle it alone.”
His eyes meet mine, clear and direct. “Because you were right.”
