AN: Hey ya'll, just felt like putting a new chapter up! =) Enjoy.... REVIEW!!
All standard disclaimers apply cause, well, the world would end if they didn't.
******************** Lights, Camera, Action! Chapter Two *********************
"It's going to be great Sarah... I mean, I know you're not real big on fantasy films
but the script is great. Originally it's a book but once the writers add a few Hollywood
tweaks it'll be an instant box office smash... There's these goblins and this King and
this girl, that's you of course..."
Oh my God, fate, destiny, chance, cannot be this cruel to me, can they? I mean, is that
really fair, ganging up three against one?
"It's called the Labyrinth..."
Apparently fate, destiny, and chance can beat the crap out of the puny mortals and no one
gives a damn. Hip hip hooray for bullies. Maybe if I give them my lunch money they'll
leave me alone.
"And Sarah, before you even begin to say no, let me remind you that your contract with
Cliched Films binds you to one more film and they're adamant, this is it."
Fat chance. The orange is set, forgotten, on the counter as I concentrate very hard on
making my manager, my agent, understand me.
"No way. Hell will freeze over first Mike." Mike's harsh laughter fills the receiver.
"Hell or your career Sarah. Give it a chance. They want this film and they want you in
it. Fantasy films are tricky to advertise but with you in it doesn't matter. Geeks and
jocks will be lining up outside to see you in all your glorious splendor.
"Fight it and you can say goodbye to your fame faster then a boy soprano. You're hot
because you're beautiful, vibrant, and have good credibility with the viewers. You don't
bitch and complain and demand mints on your pillow and your own trailer. The minute you
start whining that your contract isn't fair is the moment I start losing money on you.
"Suck it up Sarah. Just say you'll do the film and be there on the set for the first day
of filming in two weeks."
I resist the urge to pick up a frying pan and take a swing at the phone, barely. Mike's
right and I know it. I know that I'm stuck, trapped, out of options. And that royally
pisses me off. My blooming career or my sanity?
I beat the Labyrinth once and once, once was quite enough for this little movie star. No,
really, I'd love to star in a Hollywood version of my own personal hell. Oh look, there's
the flying pigs! Oink, oink!
Shit, a Hollywood version of Labyrinth. I'll probably end up sleeping with the damn Goblin
King this time around, maybe bear his pointy toothed brats and live happily ever after in a
Gothic castle with a black picket fence. What genius producer thought this film would be
great on the big screen? He or she has a date with my favorite frying pan.
"I want final say over the script Mike, period, non negotiable."
"You want final say?" The incredulity is painfully obvious but I am so NOT in the mood for
Mike's inability to cope with MY moodiness.
"Yeah, I'm the big star in the film. I want final say in what I have to do and say." As
in I'm so not doing or saying three of Hollywood's three favorite words to their testerone
hyped up version of the Goblin King. God, what kind of costumes would they come up with?
"Mike, honey, you still there or do I officially get to fire you?" A growl comes from the
receiver before my overjoyed manager spits out an answer.
"Chill Sarah. Final say, it's a done deal."
The tension in my shoulders leaves a bit, good thing, especially since Robert isn't due
for another five days. "Fine. Just out of curiosity... who is set to play the Goblin
King?" And I swear, if he says Josh Hartnett or Freddie Prince Jr. I'm not doing the damn
movie and screw my career. I can only take so much perversion.
"Jared King." I blink, blink again, and shake my head blankly at the anticipatory note in
Mike's suddenly smug voice.
"Mike, I have absolutely no idea who that is. You know that, right?"
"Oh shit, I forgot Sarah. You haven't been around lately..." His voice screams 'fake
apology'. Mike's not real thrilled with my whole commune with nature, retreat from the
world thing. If I'm not in Hollywood he can't be selling me to Hollywood. He's been
terribly disappointed in me.
Wah wah, see my tears? I so care.
"Mike, I'm getting bored." Another theatrical sigh and he finally answers me.
"Jared King is the hot new thing in Hollywood. He's risen faster then you and you babe,
you were a record. He's hot, sexy... All the women want him and all the men want to
be him."
"Cliché Mike dear."
"Shut up Sarah. Trust me, he's perfect for the part." I snort.
"Really Mike, just like I am?"
"Sarah, one of these days it's going to be you running from a frying pan. I put up with
more from you then anyone else, including my mother." Laughter bubbles up past my throat.
"Mike, honey, hate to break this to you, but your mom is dead."
Why am I not surprised when he hangs up on me? I think he has issues with strong women.
****************************************************************************************
Two weeks, several melt downs, and an unbreakable deal later I'm stepping out of my
limousine and into the smoggy Hollywood air. The people at the studio know me well and
camera men, hanger oners, the mass of busy people walking around with equipment and
costumes in hand wave genially.
I wave back.
I may moan and bitch but Cliched Films has been good to me, to a point. I like the
atmosphere, just not the bloody cheesy movies. I wouldn't mind doing some more work for
them, I'd just prefer not to be bound to it. They know it, I know it, we have an
understanding.
Go us.
Mike shuffles out and plays kiss up for awhile before we finally get down to business. I
take my designer shades off as we enter the cool studio building where most of the movie
is being filmed. Cliched Films opted for a mostly indoor shoot. They're planning on
adding tons of digital effects. I wish them the best of luck. Nothing will ever be able
to match the real Labyrinth.
Thank God.
People part like the Red Sea, fake plastic smiles on stretched faces. Yup, I'm home.
Rah rah Hollywood, land of plastic surgery. Tony Gray, the director, steps forward with
a very genuine smile. He's fortyish, in a boyish kind of way. His hair is graying but
still full, face creased, weather worn, but handsome enough. He's dressed comfortably,
nice jeans and a respectable sweater. A well loved ring graces his left hand.
I already approve.
He extends his hand and I take it. Its warm and dry, his hand shake firm but not
overpowering. He makes good eye contact, and his are, appropriately enough, gray. He's
just a person meeting another person, no posturing, no trepidation, just him. I've heard
good things about Mr. Tony Gray and its nice to see them validated. I've worked with a
couple of real ass holes in my time and aren't eager to repeat the experience.
"It's a pleasure to meet you Mr. Gray," I say with my most sincere, hundred watt smile.
The smile that wins me an award every time they catch it on screen. The smile I'd love
to be able to bottle and sell, or at least flash, whenever I want, for exorbitant amounts
of money. The smile I have to mean.
"The pleasure is all mine and please, call me Tony." I can hardly believe it, but his
smile matches mine. I'm so very rarely impressed these days. I'm usually not big on
surprises but this is a nice one. "Come on Ms. Elliott, let me introduce you to your
esteemed costar." I let Tony take my arm and guide me to the other side of the set. My
curiosity is piqued... I've been so busy, resettling in my condo, letting Princess, my
miniature Poodle, do not mock me!, let her know I still love her... ignoring the hungry
media like the plague for once... I haven't even gotten a chance to research my costar,
the Goblin King, the fabulous Jared King.
Mr. Gray guides me to a man who's standing back to me, facing a table of food, absently
picking at it. Even from the back I can tell that he's good looking, what can I say, it's
a gift. He's dressed smartly in black slacks and a dark gray sweater that shows off broad
shoulders. Blonde hair spills down the sweater's collar in an eerily familiar way that
makes my stomach clench in a fist.
My smile stays on my face with an act of will.
Oh heaven and hell, I know they like to bully but cruel and unusual punishment doesn't
seem much up fate, chance, and destiny's alley. My costar turns slowly and my world, my
world crystallizes and slows, the better to stretch out the agonizing moment, of course.
Hell, I hate being wrong. Apparently fate, destiny, and chance have a pretty great affinity
for torture after all.
Jareth smiles at me, you know, that smug, arrogant, King of the Underground smile. The smile
that gets under my skin and makes me want to claw his eyes out. Yes, THAT smile.
"Sarah Elliott, meet Jared King."
Jared. King.
"Oh subtle Jareth." Jareth's fantastic brows raise a fraction as he twirls an orange in one
hand. An orange, great, he just HAS to ruin another fruit for me. And I really used to like
oranges. Jareth bows gallantly and rises, intense eyes never leaving mine.
"Ello Sarah, Elliott, is it?" I did mention I hate surprises right, especially when they're
unpleasant. We're both kind of ignoring Mr. Tony Gray right now and Mike, Mike is lost
somewhere last year in my consciousness. My own eyes narrow in not so polite distaste.
"You really suck."
AN2: Yeah... I don't know squat about the movie business so bear with any great oopsies on
my part. =)
All standard disclaimers apply cause, well, the world would end if they didn't.
******************** Lights, Camera, Action! Chapter Two *********************
"It's going to be great Sarah... I mean, I know you're not real big on fantasy films
but the script is great. Originally it's a book but once the writers add a few Hollywood
tweaks it'll be an instant box office smash... There's these goblins and this King and
this girl, that's you of course..."
Oh my God, fate, destiny, chance, cannot be this cruel to me, can they? I mean, is that
really fair, ganging up three against one?
"It's called the Labyrinth..."
Apparently fate, destiny, and chance can beat the crap out of the puny mortals and no one
gives a damn. Hip hip hooray for bullies. Maybe if I give them my lunch money they'll
leave me alone.
"And Sarah, before you even begin to say no, let me remind you that your contract with
Cliched Films binds you to one more film and they're adamant, this is it."
Fat chance. The orange is set, forgotten, on the counter as I concentrate very hard on
making my manager, my agent, understand me.
"No way. Hell will freeze over first Mike." Mike's harsh laughter fills the receiver.
"Hell or your career Sarah. Give it a chance. They want this film and they want you in
it. Fantasy films are tricky to advertise but with you in it doesn't matter. Geeks and
jocks will be lining up outside to see you in all your glorious splendor.
"Fight it and you can say goodbye to your fame faster then a boy soprano. You're hot
because you're beautiful, vibrant, and have good credibility with the viewers. You don't
bitch and complain and demand mints on your pillow and your own trailer. The minute you
start whining that your contract isn't fair is the moment I start losing money on you.
"Suck it up Sarah. Just say you'll do the film and be there on the set for the first day
of filming in two weeks."
I resist the urge to pick up a frying pan and take a swing at the phone, barely. Mike's
right and I know it. I know that I'm stuck, trapped, out of options. And that royally
pisses me off. My blooming career or my sanity?
I beat the Labyrinth once and once, once was quite enough for this little movie star. No,
really, I'd love to star in a Hollywood version of my own personal hell. Oh look, there's
the flying pigs! Oink, oink!
Shit, a Hollywood version of Labyrinth. I'll probably end up sleeping with the damn Goblin
King this time around, maybe bear his pointy toothed brats and live happily ever after in a
Gothic castle with a black picket fence. What genius producer thought this film would be
great on the big screen? He or she has a date with my favorite frying pan.
"I want final say over the script Mike, period, non negotiable."
"You want final say?" The incredulity is painfully obvious but I am so NOT in the mood for
Mike's inability to cope with MY moodiness.
"Yeah, I'm the big star in the film. I want final say in what I have to do and say." As
in I'm so not doing or saying three of Hollywood's three favorite words to their testerone
hyped up version of the Goblin King. God, what kind of costumes would they come up with?
"Mike, honey, you still there or do I officially get to fire you?" A growl comes from the
receiver before my overjoyed manager spits out an answer.
"Chill Sarah. Final say, it's a done deal."
The tension in my shoulders leaves a bit, good thing, especially since Robert isn't due
for another five days. "Fine. Just out of curiosity... who is set to play the Goblin
King?" And I swear, if he says Josh Hartnett or Freddie Prince Jr. I'm not doing the damn
movie and screw my career. I can only take so much perversion.
"Jared King." I blink, blink again, and shake my head blankly at the anticipatory note in
Mike's suddenly smug voice.
"Mike, I have absolutely no idea who that is. You know that, right?"
"Oh shit, I forgot Sarah. You haven't been around lately..." His voice screams 'fake
apology'. Mike's not real thrilled with my whole commune with nature, retreat from the
world thing. If I'm not in Hollywood he can't be selling me to Hollywood. He's been
terribly disappointed in me.
Wah wah, see my tears? I so care.
"Mike, I'm getting bored." Another theatrical sigh and he finally answers me.
"Jared King is the hot new thing in Hollywood. He's risen faster then you and you babe,
you were a record. He's hot, sexy... All the women want him and all the men want to
be him."
"Cliché Mike dear."
"Shut up Sarah. Trust me, he's perfect for the part." I snort.
"Really Mike, just like I am?"
"Sarah, one of these days it's going to be you running from a frying pan. I put up with
more from you then anyone else, including my mother." Laughter bubbles up past my throat.
"Mike, honey, hate to break this to you, but your mom is dead."
Why am I not surprised when he hangs up on me? I think he has issues with strong women.
****************************************************************************************
Two weeks, several melt downs, and an unbreakable deal later I'm stepping out of my
limousine and into the smoggy Hollywood air. The people at the studio know me well and
camera men, hanger oners, the mass of busy people walking around with equipment and
costumes in hand wave genially.
I wave back.
I may moan and bitch but Cliched Films has been good to me, to a point. I like the
atmosphere, just not the bloody cheesy movies. I wouldn't mind doing some more work for
them, I'd just prefer not to be bound to it. They know it, I know it, we have an
understanding.
Go us.
Mike shuffles out and plays kiss up for awhile before we finally get down to business. I
take my designer shades off as we enter the cool studio building where most of the movie
is being filmed. Cliched Films opted for a mostly indoor shoot. They're planning on
adding tons of digital effects. I wish them the best of luck. Nothing will ever be able
to match the real Labyrinth.
Thank God.
People part like the Red Sea, fake plastic smiles on stretched faces. Yup, I'm home.
Rah rah Hollywood, land of plastic surgery. Tony Gray, the director, steps forward with
a very genuine smile. He's fortyish, in a boyish kind of way. His hair is graying but
still full, face creased, weather worn, but handsome enough. He's dressed comfortably,
nice jeans and a respectable sweater. A well loved ring graces his left hand.
I already approve.
He extends his hand and I take it. Its warm and dry, his hand shake firm but not
overpowering. He makes good eye contact, and his are, appropriately enough, gray. He's
just a person meeting another person, no posturing, no trepidation, just him. I've heard
good things about Mr. Tony Gray and its nice to see them validated. I've worked with a
couple of real ass holes in my time and aren't eager to repeat the experience.
"It's a pleasure to meet you Mr. Gray," I say with my most sincere, hundred watt smile.
The smile that wins me an award every time they catch it on screen. The smile I'd love
to be able to bottle and sell, or at least flash, whenever I want, for exorbitant amounts
of money. The smile I have to mean.
"The pleasure is all mine and please, call me Tony." I can hardly believe it, but his
smile matches mine. I'm so very rarely impressed these days. I'm usually not big on
surprises but this is a nice one. "Come on Ms. Elliott, let me introduce you to your
esteemed costar." I let Tony take my arm and guide me to the other side of the set. My
curiosity is piqued... I've been so busy, resettling in my condo, letting Princess, my
miniature Poodle, do not mock me!, let her know I still love her... ignoring the hungry
media like the plague for once... I haven't even gotten a chance to research my costar,
the Goblin King, the fabulous Jared King.
Mr. Gray guides me to a man who's standing back to me, facing a table of food, absently
picking at it. Even from the back I can tell that he's good looking, what can I say, it's
a gift. He's dressed smartly in black slacks and a dark gray sweater that shows off broad
shoulders. Blonde hair spills down the sweater's collar in an eerily familiar way that
makes my stomach clench in a fist.
My smile stays on my face with an act of will.
Oh heaven and hell, I know they like to bully but cruel and unusual punishment doesn't
seem much up fate, chance, and destiny's alley. My costar turns slowly and my world, my
world crystallizes and slows, the better to stretch out the agonizing moment, of course.
Hell, I hate being wrong. Apparently fate, destiny, and chance have a pretty great affinity
for torture after all.
Jareth smiles at me, you know, that smug, arrogant, King of the Underground smile. The smile
that gets under my skin and makes me want to claw his eyes out. Yes, THAT smile.
"Sarah Elliott, meet Jared King."
Jared. King.
"Oh subtle Jareth." Jareth's fantastic brows raise a fraction as he twirls an orange in one
hand. An orange, great, he just HAS to ruin another fruit for me. And I really used to like
oranges. Jareth bows gallantly and rises, intense eyes never leaving mine.
"Ello Sarah, Elliott, is it?" I did mention I hate surprises right, especially when they're
unpleasant. We're both kind of ignoring Mr. Tony Gray right now and Mike, Mike is lost
somewhere last year in my consciousness. My own eyes narrow in not so polite distaste.
"You really suck."
AN2: Yeah... I don't know squat about the movie business so bear with any great oopsies on
my part. =)