Page 3 of The Singapore Stunt

When I look up and spot the rest of the cast peering over the balcony with hands covering their eyes and tears streaming down their face, that’s when I know—it’s bad.

Chapter Two

Kimberly

My phone buzzes, a welcome break from the madness occurring in front of me. I’m on the studio back lot, in a small conference room with a giant screen in front of us. We are officially in crisis mode.

Ariana: look who spent the night with me (heart emoji).

The attached picture is of Declan sitting in a hospital chair, eyes closed, head at an awkward angle pushed against the white wall, and his Dodgers cap crumbled as a faux pillow.

Ariana: he’s not left my side since you left last night.

Me: that’s adorable. How are you doing?

Ariana: bummed that I messed up the stunt and took out my boss at the same time (smiley emoji)

I chuckle and then remember where I am, covering my mouth. I picture Ariana’s smile brightening the entire wing of the hospital. She had a dislocated elbow and a mild concussion. The doctors said it could’ve been ten times worse if not for Xavier taking the brunt of the fall.

Me: he’s happy that you are going to be ok. He’s staring at me right now on a Zoom call from his hospital bed.

Ariana: Really? Doesn’t he know how to take a day off?

The screen fills with three dots.

Ariana: I heard he’s in bad shape.

The last thing I want to do is worry her.

Me: They must have some wonderful drugs there because he’s all smiles and is already asking to return to the set.

Ariana: I hope they let me out of the room today. I’ll check on him. How badly did I ruin the movie?

Me: You didn’t ruin a thing. Injuries happen all the time. They have contingencies. All is good. You concentrate on getting better and flirting with Declan. I’ll keep you posted.

I flip the phone over just as Elliot, the primary producer of the film, slams his hands on the table.

“Tell me again, why the hell we didn’t have a harness and wires on them?”

The director pounds on the other side of the table, matching him fury for fury. This is why I didn’t hesitate to swipe at my phone, seeking a distraction. The last five minutes have been men acting like barbarians to see who has the biggest set—in other words, men acting like men.

I try to capture the gaze of Cameron, my co-star, who is freaking reading from the script as if today is another normal day.

“Because we are trying to make magic,” Marlon defends the stunt. The producers know what they got when they snagged Marlon to direct. He’s known for enormous explosions and crazy stunts. It was one of the reasons I signed up. After the so-so box office of my last movie, I knew if I was going to stay in the action film genre, I would need to step it up.

“Wires require a lot of post-production work to remove, and the worst part is they restrict movement. I wouldn’t be able to shoot as tight—the audience experience would be affected.” Marlon is a visionary, and he’s a veteran of the action genre. It’s the reason the studio entrusted him with a budget this size.

“Whatever.” Elliot waves a hand at the screen. Xavier is perched up in a hospital bed, teeth gritted in a world of pain, which he’s doing a poor job of hiding. The rest of the screen is filled with half a dozen talking heads, lawyers, studio execs, accountants, and two other departments represented. I’m the only woman in the meeting, not a new experience for me. “It’s two stunt people. Pull in two others, and keep it moving. It’s bad enough we had to shut down production yesterday.”

“Apologies for having you stop production to clean up all that blood in the theater. What was I thinking?” Xavier grunts the words I was thinking.

“That’s not what I meant.”

“You’re not that deep, Mr. Warren. You’ve actually said what you mean. And we may just be lowly interchangeable stunt people—hell, I already have my replacement in mind—but you won’t find another replacement for Kimberly. Remember, it took us three weeks to find Ariana, and then we had to purchase her contract out from MGM.”

“It shouldn’t be that difficult. We have six other female stunt people on the payroll. I’ve already looked.”

I scoff. The man has no clue. There are thirteen of them.

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