Chapter 5: The Female Lead
Luke Simmons had graduated two years earlier than Wayne. He had been a top-performing student, but if there's one thing Hollywood isn't short of, it's talented people. In the two years since graduation, Luke had only managed to land a few assistant director gigs through classmates' referrals.
The only reason Luke agreed to meet was because their professor had told him Wayne was offering the role of assistant director—a rare opportunity that would allow him to be deeply involved in the making of a film.
Pushing open the door of the café, Luke sat across from Wayne. He recognized his junior but had never spoken with him before.
Wayne looked up from the documents he was reading and studied his senior: a loose-fitting suit, no tie, and scuffed dress shoes. Clearly, just as the professor had said—Luke hadn't been doing particularly well.
"Luke? I'm Wayne. The professor should've filled you in. Here's the deal: you'll be the assistant director, but I also need you to double as production coordinator. The pay won't be great—my budget's tight. Any issues with that?"
Wayne got straight to the point—he didn't have time to waste.
"No problem. I can start right away. Want to see my résumé?"
Luke pulled a résumé from his bag and placed it on the table. Wayne gave it a quick scan. Most of it was assistant gigs and general crew work—basic, yes, but it showed Luke had seen the process of a film from start to finish.
"I trust your ability. More importantly, I trust our professor—he spoke highly of you. If you've got any questions or concerns, now's the time to ask. Once we get rolling, we won't have time for sit-downs."
Wayne looked him in the eye, speaking sincerely. There was a mountain of work waiting, and once they got moving, things would only get busier.
"Wayne, I've looked into you. You're a top student and a real all-rounder. But I want you to know, I'm not joining this project for the measly weekly salary.
I can do production coordination, logistics, even grunt work. But I need two guarantees: first, that this film will be completed—no funding collapses midway. Second, that I'll be deeply involved in the production process, including post-production if possible."
Wayne thought for a moment. No problem.
"Alright. Here's my studio info and a copy of the script. Review it and give me your phone number. Work starts tomorrow."
He handed Luke the materials. Luke needed to get up to speed fast. With his experience, Wayne figured he could handle the coordination work and finally free Wayne from a bunch of trivial tasks.
Production coordinators are vital yet often overlooked. They're the ones juggling the crew's countless logistics—ideally someone who's worked in the trenches. Most people with high ambitions hate the job, but Luke clearly didn't mind.
—
The next day, Luke arrived at Wayne's apartment as promised.
"Sorry about the mess," Wayne said, handing him a bottle of water while sweeping VHS tapes and dirty laundry off the couch. "I'm short on funds, so no office for now. We'll have to make do."
"No worries. Getting funding at all is impressive. Looks like you've already assembled most of the crew. What do you need me to do next?"
"You've read the script, right? It won't change much. You've been on sets—you should know the gear we'll need. Here's a list of what I need rented. Try to find the best prices and a cheap rental company."
Wayne handed him a printed list, then returned to his seat to continue sketching storyboards. Equipment rental could make or break a small-budget production, and prices varied wildly. Every cent counted.
"Got it. Give me your apartment number. I'll call if I find anything."
Luke left with the sheet, heading off to start calling around. He'd already read the script the night before and honestly wasn't too impressed. The plot kicked off with the main character being killed, featured more deaths mid-story, and had a cliché time-loop mystery arc. It screamed niche—a dark horror comedy meant for cult fans. Budget-wise, clearly a shoestring production.
But realistically, with this kind of money, trying to shoot a mainstream movie would be a joke.
Luke didn't have much hope for the film's success—but he also couldn't pass up the rare chance to be deeply involved in an actual movie project.
—
Wayne, for his part, wasn't too concerned about what Luke thought. He had his hands full—sketching camera angles, blocking scenes, and dealing with casting and crew logistics over the phone with Jimmy.
Frustrated, he set down his pencil and raked a hand through his hair. He needed a break. He was thinking about picking up smoking again—a bad habit from his past life, but one that helped him relax and stay focused.
As he opened the door to leave, a familiar voice called from behind.
"Hey! You don't look so good, kid. Kinda strung out. You smoke now? Cigarettes or... the leafy stuff? Either way, not a great habit, trust me."
Wayne turned to see his neighbor—Ms. Watts.
"No, nothing like that. Just cigarettes. Thought it might help with the stress. I was heading downstairs to pick up a couple of packs. Got plans today, Ms. Watts? Want to grab a coffee?"
He offered the invitation casually, testing the waters.
"Coffee? At your place?" she replied, raising an eyebrow. "You sure you've got coffee and not just those ridiculous little umbrellas?" She smiled. "Fine. I don't have much going on. Might be heading back home in a few days anyway. Maybe Hollywood just isn't for me. I might go back to doing commercials and TV dramas."
Wayne shrugged. She'd clearly misunderstood—but the important part was, she'd said yes. No point explaining. He opened the door again and gestured for her to enter.
"Sorry about the mess. Been swamped lately. Haven't had time to clean up."
As he spoke, Wayne gathered the dirty laundry strewn across the couch and floor, stuffing it into the washing machine in the bathroom.
"Oh. My. God! Your place looks like it's been ransacked by a gang of thieves—several times over!" his gorgeous neighbor exclaimed. "Too busy? What have you been up to? I barely see you leave the apartment. Maybe you should be in school instead of locking yourself up in here all day. Where do you keep the trash bags?"
Watching him fumble around cleaning, she found the trash bags herself and started helping—collecting burger wrappers, pizza boxes, and empty drink bottles scattered around the apartment.
"Yeah, I'm graduating soon," Wayne said, leaning in the bathroom doorway, arms crossed as he watched her tidy up. "I wrote a script myself, and I've been prepping to shoot it. I got lucky and managed to find some investors. Thanks for helping clean up—I didn't expect you to be so good at this. Most of the women I know... well, let's just say housekeeping isn't their thing."
"Should I take that as a compliment?" she said, raising an eyebrow. "You think I'm beautiful?"
She looked up as she tied the garbage bag, then casually grabbed a broom and gave the floor a once-over.
"Let me give you some advice, kid," she added, grinning. "If you plan to invite girls over, make sure you clean the apartment first. No girl wants to hook up with a slob—no matter how handsome he is."
Wayne chuckled as she placed the trash by the door.
Beautiful? No question about it. Blonde hair, long legs, an hourglass figure, and delicate features—her looks aligned perfectly with East Asian beauty standards. In his past life, Wayne had personally screened plenty of films, and she looked like someone straight off a movie poster.
"Of course you're beautiful. It's obvious you've been keeping yourself in shape. Up close, you're... stunning. Oh—sorry, I'll go make that coffee now."
By the time he returned with two cups, she had wiped down the table with one of his old T-shirts and gave a satisfied nod before sitting down on the couch.
"Well, color me surprised. You actually do have coffee. So, you're really shooting a script you wrote yourself? Mind if I take a look? I've had a few bit parts before, you know."
Wayne handed her the script. She sipped the coffee, slowly flipping through the pages. Her lip movements, the way she licked her lips after each sip—downright seductive. He forced himself to look away.
"Here. Read it and give me your honest thoughts—from a viewer's perspective."
She took the script and began reading. Wayne watched her in silence.
"This feels like something made for a young audience—maybe students," she said thoughtfully after a while. "Middle-aged or older folks probably wouldn't go for this type of horror flick."
She paused, thinking. "It's a bit thin, honestly. The plot feels familiar—maybe even cliché. Sorry, I'm not an expert. But I can see it working, especially on a tight budget."
Wayne nodded, tapping the script lightly.
"Are you interested in the female lead? You've seen the character description—blonde, attractive—you fit it perfectly."
"What would I need to give for that role?" she asked seriously, locking eyes with him. "You know what I mean. If I want the part—trust me, I'm more than capable of playing her."
She wasn't wrong. She had recognized the opportunity the moment she started reading. A lead role, just like that—it was the kind of break actors dream of.
Wayne considered her for a moment before replying.
"This role doesn't demand much acting range, as you've probably noticed. What matters is looking the part. But I'll be honest—the pay isn't great. Very low, actually. Two grand, tops. My budget's tight."
"No problem. I can bring my agent tomorrow to sign the contract," she said without hesitation. "You know how much this role means to me. And besides… want me to audition my 'skills'? I know how the game works. Nothing comes free."
Wayne wasn't surprised. She knew what the role could mean for her. In Hollywood, opportunity is everything—and for actors, that opportunity is worth nearly any price. The city was full of beautiful, ambitious people waiting for their shot, even if most never got one.
"No audition necessary," Wayne said coolly. "This film is about appearance. A beautiful woman getting killed and tormented repeatedly—that alone will draw eyes."
She leaned back, playful and sultry.
"So, you invited me here just for coffee? Come on, boy. Believe me—my 'performance' will impress you."
She set the script down, took another slow sip of coffee, and then, with a mischievous smile, grabbed Wayne by the belt and led him toward the bedroom.
"Oh," Wayne murmured with a grin, "maybe your performance will be full of surprises."
And with that, he followed her inside—after all, she was very much his type.
(Note: Guess the Female Lead in the comments... Hint: Her husband was in the movie MI-3)