Los Angeles, a city full of places to be, people to see, and things to do. Michelle Morris, a very particular A-list celebrity that everyone wanted to be, see, and even do, happened to be enjoying a day off from all three categories of verbs. In particular, trying to find a proper director. Her usual talk show, The Michelle Minute, was recently forced to go on a temporary hiatus due to her previous director joining in the director's strike. A strike that placed many shows and movies into a money-wasting lull while several of the best directors had picked up their picket signs and megaphones, demanding a raise in general payment. The spike in illegal online distribution of movies and television shows was making the entire industry's earnings plummet, causing talks of tighter copyright laws and outright restrictive internet freedoms.
However, Michelle's main concern was trying to find a good director, which she was hard pressed so long as all the good ones decided they didn't have enough cash in their pockets. It made for a stressful time and even made her regret being her own producer. Michelle would rather leave all these issues to someone else and was actually considering doing just that.
With a sigh, Michelle sunk deeper into the large, ceramic tub of bubble-filled water, trying to zone all the stress out from her thoughts. However, even Ray Charles blasting through her earbuds didn't seem to help all that much. The thoughts continued to plague her, panic question after panic question filling her mind.
What if her show got canned? The one show that she'd worked so hard and so long for. Over ten years of acting and striving, she finally got her own show. She hosted all the big names, the ratings were fantastic, and it could all end up amounting to cancellation.
"Michelle!"
Michelle's eyes flew open suddenly, the whiteness of the large bathroom momentarily blinding as she looked around at its emptiness. She could've sworn that she just heard her name being called. Sharply, she sat up, taking her earbuds out as she did so. She listened intently, trying to see if it really was just her mind playing with her or not.
Even after a few moments of silence, she still wasn't convinced. She may have been stressed as all hell, but that surely didn't mean she was going crazy on top of it all. Could someone have gotten into her house?
I swear, if it's some paps sneaking into my house again... She growled to herself, cursing under her breath as she pulled herself out of the tub.
Michelle grabbed a nearby towel, wrapping the white fabric around her slim form and wiping a stray hair from her messy bun out of her eyes. With careful and quiet steps, she made her way over to the door, slowly grabbing the handle and opening it.
The beige door swung inward on silent hinges, Michelle finally peeking her head out tentatively. So far, everything looked normal. Her expansive lilac bedroom looked exactly as she left it. No pap, nothing but some strewn about clothes she'd stripped off not even thirty minutes ago. But something still didn't feel right.
Another moment of hesitation and she was stepping out into her bedroom, wanting to get dressed quickly. If someone really had broken into her house, she sure as hell didn't want to get any photos snapped of her in only a towel and next to no make up. But then the silence was broken.
"Michelle!?"
So she wasn't just imagining it! And the voice sounded familiar. It sounded like...
Michelle had no time to react. Before she could even respond, there, entering through her doorway without so much as a knock, was her agent Custer. Custer Lungbarrow was a slim man, short, brown hair tossed gently to the side, seemingly always clad in a well-fitted suit, and his iPhone constantly glued to his hands. He was just about four years older than Michelle was.
Both of them froze upon seeing one another, the moment so incredibly stupid, it left either of them speechless for a solid second or two.
Finally Custer found his voice, relief swimming throughout it, "Oh, thank God-"
"Holy shit, Custer!" Michelle shouted, swiftly trying to retreat back into the bathroom. She hid herself safely behind the door. "What the hell are you doing here?!"
"Sorry, Michelle, sorry!" Custer proclaimed hurriedly, hand over his eyes in complete embarrassment. "I'm... So sorry. Jesus."
Michelle finally sticks her head out of the door, being sure to keep most of herself covered behind it, "Again: what are you doing here?!"
Custer, with his hand still over his eyes, admitted, "I thought you were dead."
Michelle could feel her eyebrows furrow in complete confusion, unsure where that even came from. Her voice matched suit, "Do I look dead?"
"No," Custer disagreed as he shook his head, "you look very much alive. And in a towel-"
"Hold on, why did you think I was dead?" Michelle quickly interjected, even more confused than before.
Just why did he think she was dead? He knew that she just wanted to be alone at her home on her day off. Her one day off in weeks, mind you. And here Michelle thought Custer had better manners than that.
"Look, just-" Custer began again, beginning to step out of the room. "Get dressed so we can talk about this. I'll be downstairs."
Without another word and before Michelle could reply, Custer was closing the door behind him, leaving her alone once more. With a slow breath, Michelle stepped out from her bathroom, unable to keep her mind from pondering about this whole death thing. She had to wonder if maybe this was just another stupid internet rumor. In fact, she was almost completely certain it was. But that's all they were. Rumors. So why was this time such a big deal?
Either way, she quickly dried herself off, promptly getting dressed afterward. She was sure to dress up as though she'd be going out somewhere, even though she certainly didn't plan on it today. Being a celebrity had its drawbacks in this area. The paparazzi could be creeping around any little corner, even around her house. She'd learned her lesson to always look photo ready. After all, the worst photos always spread the quickest.
Just as she finished brushing her wavy blonde hair out and touching up her makeup, she stepped out of her bedroom, Custer's voice echoing off the large walls of her mansion-like estate. Approaching the nearby railing, she allowed her gaze to travel to the floor below, catching Custer pacing back and forth as he was on the phone.
Custer pulled a frustrated hand from his pocket, rubbing his forehead as he spoke, "Monday won't be good, she's got a photoshoot- no it can't be rescheduled. I know, I know what the news outlets are saying, but it's just bullshit; she's still alive."
At that, Michelle's brow furrowed. The media was trying to cover her supposed death? Over what body? This wasn't the first time Michelle had gotten her fake death spread online before, but it was never more than just that. Fans or anti-fans trying to spark something to spread all in the name of... Well, Michelle wasn't even sure of it herself. She never understood it.
"Because I just saw her not even ten minutes ago," Custer went on, sounding more frustrated as the seconds ticked by. "The media likes to blow things out of proportion anyway. Especially lies."
Not wanting to wait any longer to hear what was going on, Michelle cleared her throat quite loudly to catch Custer's attention. Immediately, Custer's eyes went upward, finally noticing Michelle's presence.
"Right, well, I've got to go," and with that, Custer hung up, placing his phone back within his pocket.
Michelle leaned onto the long, wooden railing. "Did you really think that I was dead?" she asked, hints of incredulousness mixed with curiosity teeming in her tone.
Custer threw each of his arms out to either side as he faced her more properly, his words countering to her own, "You wouldn't pick up your phone!"
That got a scoff out of Michelle. "Of course I wasn't answering, it's my day off. I'm not gonna answer my phone on my day off," Michelle said as if it should've been obvious. She settled on a small pause before continuing, "Where'd these rumors about me 'being dead' even start?"
Custer's hands slid within his pockets, his shoulders scrunching up into a shrug as he replied, "Most likely culprit? The internet. Specifically where on the internet, don't know. Maybe 4chan. I'm having people look into it."
Michelle didn't even know what this 4chan was, but she was also sure she didn't even want to know either. Stepping away from the railing, she began making her way down the marble steps. "And let me guess, there's the usual rabid mob of camera humpers outside waiting to see my dead body?" she asked jokingly, yet they both knew how true of a joke it was.
"Camera humpers," Custer repeated with a small chuckle, his eyes on Michelle as she continued down the steps. "That's new. I like that."
Taking one last step, Michelle was finally at bottom of the stairs, now moving toward the kitchen as she replied, "I'll take that as a yes."
"Well, you're not wrong," Custer admits, slowly following behind her.
The kitchen was, just as everything else in this house, expansive and filled with too much room. All the white counter tops were spotless marble, all the cabinets above and below covered with clear, thin glass. On the far wall stood a large, chrome refrigerator. Michelle tugged at one of the black handles, pulling the cool door open.
"As if my show being on hiatus wasn't enough," Michelle mused outloud, sarcasm pouring from her lips. She reached into the fridge, pulling out a tall bottle of water. "Now I'm dead too. How brilliant."
"As the old saying goes: there's no such thing as bad publicity?" Custer added, trying to reassure her as best he could.
Michelle laughed incredulously at that one as she closed the fridge, "Whatever idiot came up with that one obviously hadn't been around to see the internet. No wonder it's an old saying."
Pausing, Michelle began to twist the cap off the unopened bottle, taking a quick drink before she started again, "But alright, I'll humor the internet. How did I die?"
Custer allowed a pause to follow her question as he moved to lean against the center island. He took a deep breath, held it for a moment, then responded, "Do you really want to know?"
A look of disgust traveled across Michelle's features as she lowered her water bottle. "Oh God, please tell me I didn't kill myself," she said quickly, the very idea of that rumor being spread completely revolting to her. Even if it was fake, that was something she never wanted to be associated with.
"Drug overdose," Custer answered simply and bluntly.
"How original," Michelle remarked with a sigh. "I'm not that desperate to get out of some contracts yet."
"Oh, ah," Custer began, "speaking of contracts-"
"Day off?" Michelle interrupted him quickly before he could continue. "Remember? I thought I mentioned that. No, I know I did. About five minutes ago. Oh, and last week. I mentioned it last week too. And the week before- huh, it's almost like I've been planning for this day off for some time now."
Custer just gave a sigh, following Michelle as she began to move into the living room. "Right, day off, I get that. But this is pretty important," he insisted just as Michelle settled down onto the purple suede couch.
"Is it more rumors?" Michelle asked jokingly, but God, if it actually was...
"This isn't a rumor," he was quick to reassure her, settling himself down into the matching purple armchair.
Giving him a pleased smile, Michelle replied, her voice a bit more upbeat, "Good, I don't think I'm quite ready to hear that I'm getting married to Ryan Reynolds too."
"It's about the show," Custer went on, "I might've found you a director."
Bottle to her lips, Michelle froze momentarily, eyes widening as she turned her full attention to Custer. She'd asked for Custer's help on trying to find a suitable director, but she truly didn't think he'd have much luck. She'd known him for nearly her entire acting career and not once had he let her down; she shouldn't have underestimated him even in this.
Michelle sat up more properly, setting her water bottle aside as she did so. "Are you serious?" she asked, excitement and relief present in her tone all at once.
"Yeah," Custer nodded, returning her smile in kind. "His name's Todd Bishop. Worked for Jimmy Kimmel, Ellen, Wanda Sykes; you name the talk show, he's probably had a hand in it."
This news couldn't have come on a better day. Ridiculous death rumors and Custer seeing her in only a towel aside, this day was going pretty fantastic. Provided they could actually get this guy on board.
"So, he's not gonna join the dark side of the strike?" Michelle quipped curiously.
Custer shook his head in response, "He'll completely be our jedi, no sithing out. He says he's a big fan of you and would love to work on your show. To paraphrase."
Michelle felt pleased and let it show, her tone sounding almost bubbly even, "Good, will you set up dinner reservations? Doing business on an empty stomach is never a good idea."
Nodding, Custer brought out his phone, beginning to scroll through it and reply at the same time, "Sure, when and where? Bit of an important detail there."
"Tonight," Michelle confirmed, reaching forward and grabbing her water bottle once more. "Sometime around eight. At the Water Grill."
Seemingly satisfied, Custer stood, still scrolling through his phone as he did so. It must've taken some sort of coordination and skill to maneuver his way past the furniture while looking at his phone without tripping. An acquired skill by being a talent agent to Michelle Morris, no doubt. He could probably avoid Los Angeles rush hour while texting out plans if he wanted.
"I'll arrange everything," he stated as he came to the living room entrance. He paused, looking up from his phone, "And be back around six. Make sure you've got your phone on this time. You know, so I can actually get ahold of you without having to break into your house."
"You didn't have to break in," Michelle corrected him. "You've got an extra set of keys, don't you?"
"Turn of phrase, Michelle," Custer jabbed.
Michelle gave a small huff of a laugh as she reached for the nearby TV remote, "Don't worry, I'll have my phone on. Not too ready to have a repeat of earlier."
With that, Custer disappeared from the living room, but only for a moment. It was just when Michelle flipped the large sixty inch television on that Custer popped himself back around the corner.
"Y'know, you should think about getting a Twitter sometime."
Michelle turned her attention back over to him, slight confusion plaguing her features, "Why would I need a Twitter?"
"So you can follow me, of course," Custer retorted quickly.
Michelle was now a mixture of confusion and trying not to laugh. Was he serious?
"I thought you hated Twitter," came Michelle's immediate reply, still trying not to laugh at such a stupid suggestion.
Custer just laughed, trying to play it off, "I do. And I reluctantly have one because marketing reasons. But in all seriousness, if you had one, it would help to kill the death rumors faster. And any other rumors in the future."
Before Michelle could respond, Custer gave a small shrug, adding, "Besides, all the cool kids are doing it."
"Are you trying to say I'm not cool?" Michelle threw back swiftly, playful beneath the offended exterior of the question.
"Oh, please, Michelle, I'm just trying to go for some authentic peer pressure here," he was teasing her now. "I don't think Hollywood gives you enough of it."
Michelle shook her head, eyes rolling with an amused smile tacked onto her expression. "Don't you have a dinner to schedule?" she reminded him pointedly.
That got a laugh out of him, "Yes 'mam." And with that, he was gone.
So, it seemed Michelle had several hours to herself. So what was she going to do? Something normal. Something that required no stress. What better option was there than watching some TV?
Usually when it came to flipping through the different channels, she never liked to linger on news or gossip stations. More than a few times she'd lingered too long and seen segments about her. And she had to admit, sometimes they just weren't very flattering. Then again, of course they wouldn't be. She was one of Hollywood's most valuable actors, people were bound to hate her. After all, she lived in Los Angeles, a city full of drug addicts and psychos; she wasn't going to make friends with everyone. Not that she wanted to at that rate.
But today was different. Flipping through the channels, she caught the large headline on the local news station channel: MICHELLE MORRIS: DEAD OR ALIVE?
So Custer wasn't kidding, the story actually reached the news. How idiotic could these people be? Did no one fact check anymore? God, she hoped that Custer would get this rumor trampled into the ground before they hurt themselves trying to spread false news that was started on the internet.
With a heavy sigh, she immediately turned off the TV. I'll just try reading some, then, she decided to herself. That's something people can't do when they're dead. So hah. Look at that, internet. I'm alive and going to do some reading.
"They never give up, do they?"
Reading was actually quite a good idea. Before she knew it, Michelle had spent the past several hours catching up on some unfinished novels, finishing one and nearly finishing the other. It helped that she tended to be quite a fast reader; made for a good distraction. But even with all the time that passed - including dressing up much more properly in a white gown, applying better makeup, and even having a hard time locating her missing purse - there were still some paparazzi waiting outside her house.
Michelle sighed as she moved the curtains of her bedroom window back into place, turning to face Custer as he remarked, "I'm sure even an earthquake couldn't make them leave."
"Maybe I should offer them free cheesepie if they'll just leave me alone for a day," she mused, half joking.
Custer raised his thin eyebrows, not expecting that response from Michelle. "I'm surprised you'd give them any of your cheesecake," he put an emphasis on the 'cake' bit, knowing that it bothered Michelle.
"Hey, it's cheese'pie'," she corrected him adamantly. "And yeah, maybe you're right. It'd be a waste just to throw it all on their cameras anyway."
Flicking the sleeve of his suit jacket back (he'd actually gone through the trouble of changing suits into a slightly nicer one than before), Custer eyed his Apple watch, reminding Michelle as he did so, "We've got to leave soon. It's about forty minutes until our reservations are due and Todd's probably already on his way."
Michelle nodded, turning one last look toward the window where the paps were no doubt still lingering, "We'll just have to bear through it, I suppose. Like the good old days when we actually loved getting to see the pap."
As Michelle grabbed her purse and began to lead the way back downstairs, Custer just laughed at that, "Maybe you used to enjoy your paparazzi, but I sure as hell never did."
"Well, we're even now," she remarked, continuing to lead the way toward the backdoor garage. "You hate the paparazzi, I hate the paparazzi, and I'm sure the paparazzi hate the paparazzi. We should make that a segment sometime, y'know."
"Catchy title, really," Custer noted as he opened the door to the garage for her. "The PR team would have a hell of a field day with that one."
As the two stepped within the large garage, waiting there in a sharp suit was a tall, black man with a kind smile and friendly glow in his eyes. He stood attentive beside a black 2015 Rolls-Royce Ghost, the very vehicle that would take them to the Water Grill.
"Hello, Joel," Michelle greeted the man, a familiarity and kindness within her tone.
Joel smiled right back, moving to open the back door, returning her greeting as he did so, "Hello, Miss Morris. Looking lovely this evening."
"Aw, thank you, Joel," Michelle said sincerely as she slid herself within the car, Joel closing the door as she was securely within. Custer moved himself to the other side, opening the door and sliding within the other backseat beside Michelle. Within moments, Joel was in the car, starting it up, and pulling out.
"So, how's the damage control on that rumor going, Custer?" Michelle asked after they'd driven a good distance away from her home.
Custer turned his hazel hues in her direction, "Did you even bother to check online yourself?"
"You know I actually try to avoid going online," she reminded him, as it should've already been obvious to him. "Just Googling myself brings up some of the weirdest things. Did you know that people actually use my face for roleplaying characters?"
Custer nodded, acting as if it was old news, "I'm aware of that. And you really, ah... Don't want to see the fanfictions either."
Michelle's features twisted into a cross between disturbed and uncomfortable at his words, her own words sounding incredulous, "Hold on, does that mean you've actually read those things?"
"The marketing game is changing over to the internet," he argued as he looked away from her, trying to defend himself, no doubt. "I've, uh... Had a lot of research to go through. Fanfictions are pretty, em... Popular." Custer paused, clearing his throat, returning his attention back to Michelle. "Anyway, not important. Long story short, I got the word out to our people to try and shut down the rumors."
Custer took another pause, straightening his navy blue tie, "In other words, hashtag no worries."
Michelle couldn't help but laugh at that. Despite the somewhat creepy revelation of knowing Custer had actually read fanfictions with her in them, she still found it amusing he actually said hashtag outloud.
"You really have been spending too much time online," Michelle finally said, composing herself from the sudden onset of laughter.
"You've been spending too little," Custer threw back at her, a smile playing at his lips.
Michelle shook her head, "Day off, remember?"
"Oh!" Custer perked up suddenly, reaching into his jacket pocket for his phone as he did so. "That reminds me, Todd said he'd be bringing a personal friend along. His 'plus one'."
Well that was certainly news that Michelle would've liked to know about sooner than just now. With an eyebrow raised, Michelle chastised him, "You could've told me this earlier, don't you think? Who's his friend?"
Custer remained silent for a few moments, finger sliding throughout his phone's touchscreen surface as it flipped through contacts and texts. Silence continued only for a second or two more before Custer was stuttering, "Ahh, well... He, uh.. Didn't actually say."
"You didn't even ask him?" Michelle asked, surprised Custer had actually dropped the ball on this one. Usually he was on top of these sorts of things. So much for not underestimating him.
Custer was quick to clear his throat, "I'll call him right now and ask."
Michelle simply gave a small sigh as he brought the phone up to his ear, and turned her attention to the many lit up buildings as they passed. They were getting closer and closer to downtown, meaning their journey was almost at an end. And neither of them knew just yet who the extra guest was going to be.
"Hello, Todd, it's Custer," he began to speak, causing Michelle's attention to turn back to Custer. "Just out of curiosity, who's the friend you're bringing?"
Another moment of silence passed, leaving Michelle in an odd sense of suspense. Then again, she had to wonder if she already knew whoever it was going to be. In fact, she was sure of it. The Michelle Minute allowed her to meet nearly every big - some even small - names out there in the industry. Her blue eyes, filled with curiosity, watched as Custer's eyebrows rose in surprise. But she wasn't sure what to make of that reaction.
"Hold on, Todd," Custer said just before pulling the phone away and looking over to Michelle. He hesitated just a single moment before saying, "I'm glad you're sitting down for this one."
Michelle's eyebrows knit together in confusion, "What're you talking about? Who is it?"
"Well..." Custer paused, almost as if he didn't want to say it. "His friend is Tenth Smith."
Immediately, all good expectations for this dinner went down the drain as Custer said that name. A name she thought she'd never have to hear again, if she was lucky.
Tenth Smith was an old co-star from one of her earlier movies. She was 21 and finally got her first big break in Hollywood. It was some stupid and clichely written love story, but everyone was sure it would sell. She was on board because she was young, excited, and wanted this to take her to new places in the industry.
However, between her and Tenth and even most of the crew, things kept falling apart. She couldn't get the right chemistry with Tenth because she found him infuriatingly stubborn and he found her sarcasm to be grating. Their lack of getting along and the crew itself having issues stating cohesive caused the entire project to be scrapped after only a month into shooting.
And here she was, nearly 30, and she was going to see him again. At dinner, no less. She wanted to call it off, but then she realized she wasn't in any position to do something like that.
If he was friends with Todd, that meant she'd have to bear it. Because they needed Todd and in a time like this, they couldn't beg and choose. Michelle would have to try and be civil, acting like the past was in the past and not still grating on her nerves any time she thought about Tenth Smith.
So she was stuck, whether she liked it or not.
"Shit."