Box Office Poison (Linnet Ellery) by Phillipa Bornikova Page B
Authors: Phillipa Bornikova
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“This is really cool. I had no idea that a set was like a little city. I mean you’ve got food, and medics, and—”
“And drivers and contractors and our very own tyrant.” The EMT nodded at Boucher, but her smile removed the sting.
I held out my hand. “I’m Linnet, by the way.”
She stood and shook my hand. “Consuela, Connie. My pleasure. Enjoy. It’s fun for a while, but then you’re going to get really bored.”
I got a cup of coffee, and took a blue M&M, and wandered back toward the edge of the set. I watched the color and intensity of the light play across the set. Over the calls from the crew and the whine of dollies and scissor lifts carrying cameras into position there were a series of dull popping sounds from outside. A man wearing headphones, carrying a clipboard, and sporting a harried expression came through calling, “Stand-ins. Stand-ins. We’re ready for you.”
A man and a woman walked onto the set. They studied the floor, and I realized they were looking at multicolored duct tape that had been placed there. The woman was human, but she wore a long silver wig with touches of green and gold mingled in. With the wild hair she was clearly the stand-in for Jondin. The man was shorter than I expected, but his hair color and overall features resembled Michael Tennant. Tennant was a serious heartthrob, and he had wowed me when he stared as Mr. Darcy in a remake of Pride and Prejudice . I sidled over to Jeff.
“Is Michael Tennant starring in this movie?”
Jeff gave me a smile. “Yes, he is.” He correctly read my expression and added, “I’ll be sure to introduce you.”
“Okay.” The word seemed to get stuck in a throat that suddenly seemed too small.
He’s just an actor. Don’t make a fool of yourself, Linnet. Wow! Michael Tennant and Jeff Montolbano. How did I get this lucky?
I was dying to text this news back to my friends in the New York office, but I had turned off my phone. Then Michael Tennant walked in, and I forgot all about texting anybody. He was gorgeous: tousled blond hair and deep brown eyes and a trim, elegant body. I knew he was twenty-eight. I was twenty-seven. He looked to be five-feet-six or seven. A good height for a boyfriend when you’re only five feet tall. I indulged in a few moments of make-believe and built a few castles in the air.
Boucher looked around. A thunderous frown gouged canyons into his sunburned forehead. “Where the hell is Debbie? And where the hell is Jondin?”
The outer door crashed open. Everyone looked around. The sunlight formed jagged streaks around the woman framed in the door.
“So glad you could join us,” Boucher said, the snark dripping off each word.
Then Jondin started shooting.
7
Boucher’s chest blossomed with blood, and chunks of bloody flesh, mingled with scraps of material blew out his back. He didn’t make a sound, just looked surprised before his body tumbled to the floor to lie in an ever widening pool of blood.
People were screaming, and Jondin wasn’t holding back. She raked the gun back and forth across the set while holding down the trigger, the buck and kick of the Uzi sending the barrel climbing toward the ceiling. Bullets skipped and whined off cameras, lights, and microphones. A lighting guy fell screaming from a catwalk high above. His body hit the floor with a meaty thud.
She got control of the gun, and brought it back down only to start shooting again. Bullets ripped through sets and knocked wood chips out of the walls. My body responded faster than my brain, sending me in a dive toward a stack of film boxes. I heard bullets singing and ricocheting as they hit the metal boxes. I wasn’t sure where Jeff had gone. He had been right beside me. He must have gone a different direction to find cover. Or maybe he was dead. I bit my lip and whimpered.
A lot of lead found human targets. Shrieks of pain joined cries of terror as metal slugs tore through flesh and shattered bone. The
“This is really cool. I had no idea that a set was like a little city. I mean you’ve got food, and medics, and—”
“And drivers and contractors and our very own tyrant.” The EMT nodded at Boucher, but her smile removed the sting.
I held out my hand. “I’m Linnet, by the way.”
She stood and shook my hand. “Consuela, Connie. My pleasure. Enjoy. It’s fun for a while, but then you’re going to get really bored.”
I got a cup of coffee, and took a blue M&M, and wandered back toward the edge of the set. I watched the color and intensity of the light play across the set. Over the calls from the crew and the whine of dollies and scissor lifts carrying cameras into position there were a series of dull popping sounds from outside. A man wearing headphones, carrying a clipboard, and sporting a harried expression came through calling, “Stand-ins. Stand-ins. We’re ready for you.”
A man and a woman walked onto the set. They studied the floor, and I realized they were looking at multicolored duct tape that had been placed there. The woman was human, but she wore a long silver wig with touches of green and gold mingled in. With the wild hair she was clearly the stand-in for Jondin. The man was shorter than I expected, but his hair color and overall features resembled Michael Tennant. Tennant was a serious heartthrob, and he had wowed me when he stared as Mr. Darcy in a remake of Pride and Prejudice . I sidled over to Jeff.
“Is Michael Tennant starring in this movie?”
Jeff gave me a smile. “Yes, he is.” He correctly read my expression and added, “I’ll be sure to introduce you.”
“Okay.” The word seemed to get stuck in a throat that suddenly seemed too small.
He’s just an actor. Don’t make a fool of yourself, Linnet. Wow! Michael Tennant and Jeff Montolbano. How did I get this lucky?
I was dying to text this news back to my friends in the New York office, but I had turned off my phone. Then Michael Tennant walked in, and I forgot all about texting anybody. He was gorgeous: tousled blond hair and deep brown eyes and a trim, elegant body. I knew he was twenty-eight. I was twenty-seven. He looked to be five-feet-six or seven. A good height for a boyfriend when you’re only five feet tall. I indulged in a few moments of make-believe and built a few castles in the air.
Boucher looked around. A thunderous frown gouged canyons into his sunburned forehead. “Where the hell is Debbie? And where the hell is Jondin?”
The outer door crashed open. Everyone looked around. The sunlight formed jagged streaks around the woman framed in the door.
“So glad you could join us,” Boucher said, the snark dripping off each word.
Then Jondin started shooting.
7
Boucher’s chest blossomed with blood, and chunks of bloody flesh, mingled with scraps of material blew out his back. He didn’t make a sound, just looked surprised before his body tumbled to the floor to lie in an ever widening pool of blood.
People were screaming, and Jondin wasn’t holding back. She raked the gun back and forth across the set while holding down the trigger, the buck and kick of the Uzi sending the barrel climbing toward the ceiling. Bullets skipped and whined off cameras, lights, and microphones. A lighting guy fell screaming from a catwalk high above. His body hit the floor with a meaty thud.
She got control of the gun, and brought it back down only to start shooting again. Bullets ripped through sets and knocked wood chips out of the walls. My body responded faster than my brain, sending me in a dive toward a stack of film boxes. I heard bullets singing and ricocheting as they hit the metal boxes. I wasn’t sure where Jeff had gone. He had been right beside me. He must have gone a different direction to find cover. Or maybe he was dead. I bit my lip and whimpered.
A lot of lead found human targets. Shrieks of pain joined cries of terror as metal slugs tore through flesh and shattered bone. The
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