Chelsea walked into the offices of Second Take Films once again, this time for another casting.
A young guy at reception guided her down a hallway to a room. As she opened the door, the first thing she did was take in the people inside. Four.
One of them, sitting in the far-left chair, was a man in his mid-thirties, whom she assumed, by process of elimination, was Robert Heinzel, the casting director who had emailed her. Next to him was the director: Uta Briesewitz. Then Owen. And finally, Jenna Ortega.
'So she is in this project,' Chelsea thought for a brief second.
She greeted them politely, without lingering too much on anyone in particular, and took her place. The audition flowed efficiently. Barely twenty-five minutes.
And even so, it felt harder than the one she had done for Lights Out. Which didn't make much sense at first glance.
In theory, Lights Out was a full feature film, a larger lead role in scale than a standalone episode. It should have created more pressure and nerves.
But it hadn't. This had.
Maybe because Lights Out had been progressive. Clear stages, one after another. Time to process, to adapt, to understand where she stood.
This, on the other hand, was different. An unexpected email, a closed process, and everything moving at a speed that left very little room to take it in.
There was also the director: Uta Briesewitz.
Over fifty. Active in the industry since the late '90s. Real experience. She didn't have hugely well-known feature films, but she had a solid track record directing television episodes.
She wasn't a gamble, she was serious, and that was something you could feel inside that casting room.
Uta, though not cold, carried an expression of absolute seriousness throughout the audition as she gave directions.
Very different from Matt, the director of Lights Out.
Matt closer to Chelsea's age, with a completely different energy. More energetic, approachable, always smiling while giving notes. The kind of person who makes you feel comfortable from the very first moment. He had also been a USC directing student, which is how Chelsea knew of him, even if they had never actually met before.
Then there was Jenna. She didn't seem to be there as an actress. She didn't intervene, nor was it a chemistry read like Chelsea had initially assumed. She just observed.
When she did participate, it was to read the counterpart in the scene. Not to test chemistry, simply to help Chelsea. They needed someone to read the other characters' lines, and Jenna had offered to do it.
That helped.
Much more than it might seem.
It wasn't the same as someone reading flatly with a monotone voice. Jenna set the right rhythm, reacting just enough without imposing herself. That allowed Chelsea to sink deeper into the scene and hold it more naturally.
Jenna didn't perform to stand out. She simply controlled the tone of her voice and remained seated in her chair.
Even so, that added pressure too.
Because the person reading wasn't just anyone. She was an actress who, in a short time, had become completely mainstream. Her presence, even in silence, elevated the situation and, at the same time, made it more demanding.
As for Owen, he spoke little. Mostly observed.
He only intervened once, near the end, to adjust something specific. Curiously, he didn't make Chelsea nervous.
There was something about him that felt calm. Hard to explain.
He didn't have that distant or cold executive presence. He didn't impose authority through silence or intimidation. The way he carried himself was different.
'I hope I did well,' Chelsea thought, looking at herself in the mirror in the Second Take Films bathroom.
She was done.
It was time to leave, but she had stopped by the bathroom first almost out of inertia, as if she needed a second to process everything.
She exhaled.
She wasn't sure. She hadn't been able to read anything on Uta's face. No clues, no clear reaction. And she had nothing to compare it to. She didn't know how many actresses had made it to this stage, or how the other auditions had gone.
She didn't know whether the notes they had given her were many or few compared to the others. Whether that was good or bad. Whether it meant interest or simply correction.
There was no way to know. She gave a slight shake of her head. It was useless to think about it.
It was no longer in her hands. The only concrete thing was that they had told her she would have an answer within forty-eight hours, at most.
That was it.
Chelsea stepped out of the bathroom and walked down the hallway. Just as she was about to head for the elevator, something stopped her.
Her gaze shifted toward a large window. She walked over, and when she looked outside, she made a face. 'Shit…' she thought.
The sky was completely covered in unfriendly clouds, and now it was pouring.
When she had arrived, only a few scattered drops had been falling. The day had looked bad, sure, but nothing serious. The problem was, she had forgotten her umbrella.
It wasn't something that happened to her often, but this time she had been completely focused on the audition.
She could take an Uber back, like she had on the way there, but she shouldn't.
Her expenses were measured down to the detail. She could only afford one ride. The return had to be public transport, even if it wasn't the most comfortable or efficient option in a city like that.
She could make an exception. But she didn't want to.
Her money wasn't much. Her parents still gave her an allowance, since she wasn't working yet. And although most of her major expenses were already covered by USC tuition, what she had left for day-to-day life was limited.
Chelsea stared at the rain for a few more seconds, until she heard a voice behind her.
"Everything okay?"
She turned around and saw Owen, holding a still-steaming cup of coffee, freshly made.
"Y-yes… yes, everything's fine," Chelsea replied, a bit too quickly. "I was just seeing if the rain would ease up a bit."
She had been standing there longer than she realized.
Owen nodded. He hadn't come over specifically to talk to her. He had simply seen her standing there. He was coming from reception, after speaking with John and making himself some coffee.
"Looks like you didn't bring an umbrella," Owen said, giving her a quick glance.
Chelsea hesitated for a second, slightly uncomfortable. "Yeah… I forgot it."
"Do you want to borrow mine?" Owen suggested casually.
Chelsea went quiet for a moment. "I don't know… how would I return it? And what are you going to do with this rain?"
Owen made a small gesture with his hand, brushing it off.
"I'll manage. I've got options," he said, not making a big deal out of it. "You can return it another day when it's not raining and just drop it off. Or, if you get the part, we'll be seeing each other again."
Chelsea looked at him for another second before finally giving in. "Alright, thanks."
Owen nodded and stepped away for a few minutes. He came back with an umbrella, handed it to her without much ceremony, and Chelsea stepped into the elevator to leave.
Owen watched her go for just a moment before turning and heading toward his office.
He walked in, closed the door behind him, and moved toward the center of the room. Jenna was there, sitting comfortably in the main chair in front of the desk, looking at the computer monitor. She lifted her head when she saw him enter.
"The casting for the lead is done," Jenna said without preamble. "Now it's just Uta's decision. They all have a pretty similar profile. No agency, none of them in the union. And considering the pilot is under a low-budget agreement, the daily rate is between 680 and 1,000 dollars. With a twelve-day shoot, we're talking about somewhere between 8,160 and 12,000."
She paused briefly, glancing back at the screen. "Which fits perfectly within the budget. Actually, it keeps us below what we originally estimated."
Owen smiled as he walked closer. "That's great, producer, everything under control," he said in a lightly teasing tone.
"Shut up," Jenna replied, giving him a small kick under the desk.
"Ouch," Owen let out, still smiling as he set the cup down on the table. "Here's your coffee."
"Thanks," Jenna said, taking it.
As soon as Chelsea's audition had ended, the two of them had headed to Owen's office, leaving Uta and Robert in the casting room so they could talk in peace. Chelsea had been the last one. Now it was time to decide.
They were producers, but they didn't want to interfere with the casting decision. They left it entirely to Uta and the casting director.
The only place Owen had stepped in was at the beginning, putting together the list of actresses. He knew he wanted someone unknown, and he made use of material he already had: actresses from Backstage who had made it far in the Lights Out casting. They were already proven.
They just needed the opportunity.
"You're welcome," Owen said. His eyebrow lifted when he noticed Jenna staring at the cup. "What's wrong? It's just regular coffee."
"Yeah, I know," Jenna replied, gauging the level in the cup before looking up at him. "But did you drink from it?"
Owen held her gaze for a second before giving in. "Yes, I'm guilty, Your Honor."
Jenna rolled her eyes at the tone, but couldn't help smiling as she stood up from the chair.
"It's fine," she said, brushing it off. "Just you could've made one for yourself too, since you were already there, if you wanted. We can share it," she added, nodding toward the chair.
Owen sat down, and Jenna, without thinking twice, settled onto his lap with complete ease before taking a sip of the coffee.
"I know, I just wanted a little. Not enough to make a whole one," Owen explained, resting his hands near Jenna's waist to hold her steady.
Jenna nodded, set the cup down on a coaster on the desk, and looked back at him. Almost without realizing it, she began to gently stroke his cheek.
"Oh, right, we're out of an umbrella," Owen said, as if only just remembering.
"What happened?" Jenna asked, curious.
"I took longer making the coffee because I got stuck talking to John, and I saw Chelsea Hale staring at the rain by the window like it was the end of the world. She told me she forgot her umbrella, so I offered her mine," Owen explained.
Jenna and Owen had walked there together. The sky had been overcast since early on, so they had brought one. Not two. And that wasn't a coincidence.
The walk from their building to the offices was about fifteen minutes. Twenty, if they took it slower. They could have driven. But they didn't want to.
The main reason was obvious: to be seen.
Since early April, they had decided to let their relationship become public naturally. Going out together, walking, and sharing spaces. Nothing forced, but not hidden either.
It was working. The photos hadn't taken long to appear. Walking to the offices, going in together, or leaving the same building. Every little thing added up, feeding that snowball of rumors that kept growing a little more each day.
Another reason walking was simpler: movement.
Owen spent too much time sitting. Office, meetings, editing. Even with gym training, he wasn't covering that most basic part: walking. Staying active outside of weight training.
Walking there solved that, and on that particular day, there had been a third intention.
The cloudy weather, with a high chance of rain.
Owen had thought that if it started raining, sharing the umbrella with Jenna, close, pressed together, would be a perfect image. Another one. One that would push those rumors a little further into something more obvious.
But now they didn't have an umbrella, and outside it was pouring. Still, it wasn't an immediate problem. They'd be leaving in a few hours. Maybe by then it would have eased up.
"Should I be worried?" Jenna asked, placing a hand over her chest with contained dramatics. "My boyfriend giving an umbrella to a former ex."
Jenna knew about the time Chelsea and Owen had shared.
He had told her.
Owen hadn't told her because he wanted Jenna to know every relationship from his past, but because Chelsea had shown up in the castings. It was better for her to know from the start.
"Wow… 'ex' is a bit much," Owen replied calmly, recognizing the tone. "We kissed at a party ages ago. That's it. And you shouldn't be worried. She turned me down before anything could even happen."
"Mm… right. Either way, I'm not worried, since Chelsea isn't your co-star," Jenna said in a serious tone, though a smile slipped through at the end.
"Oh, very funny," Owen replied, nodding slightly.
He knew she was referring to the theory already going around. That stupid idea that he always ended up dating his co-stars.
Unfortunately for Owen, that theory had two hits: Sophie and Jenna.
So once the two of them were fully confirmed, it would only grow stronger, at least until he made another romance film with a co-star and didn't date her.
"Should I be worried about Bryan?" Jenna asked, this time bringing her index finger to her lips as if she were genuinely thinking about it.
Owen frowned. "Bryan? Shouldn't it be Emma?" he asked, confused.
"No, no…" Jenna said, raising a finger and gently shaking it. "Bryan's role is the real co-lead in Good Will Hunting. Skylar is the love interest, sure, but she's not a co-lead like Sophie or I were."
"Yeah, I know… but Bryan is over fifty, he's been married for decades, and also, I'm not gay," Owen said, listing each point like they were undeniable arguments.
"I don't know…" Jenna replied, as if she weren't entirely convinced. "There are cases in Hollywood, you know?"
Owen looked at her for a second. Two. He ended up exhaling sharply, looking away.
Jenna couldn't hold it in any longer and let out a laugh. "I'm joking, don't get mad," she said, leaning in to kiss him.
Owen returned the kiss, with a slight smile on his face, "You're the only person who manages to annoy me."
"I'm glad," Jenna replied, not pulling away too much. "Someone has to be able to challenge you."
There was a brief silence, a comfortable one. Then Owen leaned back more fully into the chair.
"How are your first two weeks as a co-producer going?" Owen asked.
It had already been fifteen days since April 1st, when they had officially started with Black Mirror.
Jenna answered without rushing and, as usually happened when something genuinely interested her, she ended up going a bit off on tangents.
She had loved those days. Not just because of the project itself, but because of the moment she was in. Since her recent breakout, she had been getting a lot of offers as an actress, but none of them gave her that feeling of I have to do this. No script fully clicked with her. This, on the other hand, did. This felt like exactly where she should be focusing her energy.
Owen listened as she spoke, and couldn't help but notice, something he already knew, but now reaffirmed even more, how methodical she was.
Almost obsessive.
But in a good way.
In those fifteen days, Jenna had applied everything they had been learning in their production course. Not in a theoretical sense, but in practice. That had made everything move at a very good pace.
And there were only three producers. Something that wasn't typical.
In most projects, that number easily rose to five, eight… even more than ten. In many cases, not so much out of real necessity, but because of how the industry worked. Actors negotiating producer credits into their contracts, writers accumulating titles as they climbed within the writers' room structure.
The result: many "producers" who weren't always directly involved in the actual process.
Not here. This was cleaner. Thanks to Owen, because in his particular case, he didn't need a writers' room. He was the sole writer.
The third producer was someone Owen had hired specifically to handle the budget, filming permits, and the more technical side of contracts with supporting actors and extras.
Despite being only three, in just two weeks, they already had the lead actress practically decided.
If everything kept going like this, they could be shooting between April 24th and 30th.
The pilot's budget was set at around 1.8 million dollars. So far, it was holding well. At worst, it could rise to 1.9 or brush up against 2 million, but nothing beyond that.
As for casting, like Jenna had mentioned earlier, the union's legal range for that type of production placed the lead actress somewhere between 8 and 12 thousand dollars.
But Owen didn't work like that.
He knew what that first union project meant for someone just starting out.
So he decided to raise it to between 15 and 25 thousand.
It wasn't an exaggerated number, nor did it break the budget, but it was high enough to make a difference.
A gesture.
In the case of the director, it was different. Uta wasn't unknown. She had years in the industry and real experience. Her contract was set at 90 thousand dollars.
It wasn't cheap. But it was the kind of expense that made sense for a pilot that needed to sell. The direction had to be up to standard.
With Jenna, the deal had been different. As a co-producer, and with this being her first job in that role, her upfront fee had been lower: around 40 thousand dollars.
But that's where backend came in. 1.5%. If the project sold, for example, for around 10 million, that would mean about 150k for her.
That's why she agreed to lower the upfront. Her agent at CAA had agreed as well. Otherwise, Owen would have had to pay between 70k and 100k.
It was a riskier deal for Jenna in the short term.
If the project didn't sell, she would earn less. But she trusted the material, and Owen.
His track record spoke for itself.
And even though, in some cases, producers can aim for higher percentages, in this context, 1.5% wasn't low.
She wasn't the creator. It was her first credit. The realistic range was between 0.5% and 2%. Within that, 1.5% was actually a very good deal.
When Jenna finished speaking, there wasn't much left to say. The silence between them filled itself, and the kiss came naturally, growing in intensity with each passing second.
Until, suddenly:
Knock, knock.
Two firm knocks on the door broke the moment.
Jenna startled instantly, as if suddenly remembering where they were. She quickly got up from Owen's lap, adjusting herself beside him, trying to regain a more neutral posture.
Owen, on the other hand, found her reaction a bit amusing. He brushed the back of his hand across his lips and said, "Come in."
The door opened.
Derek appeared in the doorway and walked in without much ceremony. He didn't greet them, he already had earlier.
"Hey, Derek. What's up?" Owen asked, completely at ease, as if nothing had happened seconds before.
Jenna, meanwhile, was already in full professional mode. Standing next to the desk, one hand resting on its surface, looking at the monitor as if she had been in the middle of a work discussion.
"Are you free? I need a hand in the editing room. Aaron's also asking if you can come," Derek said, not paying much attention to the atmosphere. If he noticed anything, he didn't show it. Or simply chose not to.
Aaron was the editor who had been working on the cut of Good Will Hunting with Derek for some time.
"Yeah, I'm free," Owen replied, standing up. He had already spent several hours on Black Mirror. He could switch gears.
What was interesting was that, at the beginning, both Derek and Aaron had seen him differently. To them, Owen was the financier, the writer, and the actor, not someone who could really contribute to editing.
But that had changed.
Fast.
Every time Owen joined the process, his decisions were precise. He understood rhythm, structure, where to cut, and where to hold. He genuinely added value.
What they didn't know was that it wasn't exactly natural talent.
Owen remembered the film from his past life, the same one he was now bringing into this alternate reality, frame by frame. That gave him a massive advantage. He could visualize the final edit of Good Will Hunting (1997) and use it as a guide. Of course, there were changes here, it wouldn't be identical, but it made the process far smoother.
"You staying here?" Owen asked, turning slightly toward Jenna.
"Yes," she answered without hesitation. "I'm going to review the shooting schedule PDF to fine-tune everything."
Owen nodded.
Derek had already turned around and was walking toward the exit. Owen followed him, but before stepping out, he turned his head toward Jenna and, exaggerating, blew her several kisses.
Jenna made a face and waved her hand at him as if shooing him away.
Finally, the door closed.
Jenna exhaled and dropped into the chair, bringing a hand to her face.
She couldn't believe it. She had completely forgotten where she was and had started kissing like a teenager, in the middle of a workday.
'It's his fault,' she thought.
She gave a slight shake of her head, brushing it off, and turned back to the monitor. Her hand went straight to the mouse, getting back to work.
At six in the evening, Owen called it a day. Uta had already informed him that the decision had been made. There was no need to drag it out.
Chelsea Hale would be the lead of the first episode of Black Mirror.
Without wasting time, Owen moved on to the next step: the contract. It needed to be prepared, reviewed, and sent as soon as possible.
On the way out, he and Jenna decided to walk back. The rain had stopped, though the sky was still heavy, as if it might start pouring again at any moment. Because of that, their pace was a bit faster than usual.
During the walk, they began going over what was coming next.
The schedule wasn't light.
There were two major public events ahead.
The first, and the closest: May 1st, 2023, the Met Gala.
The most prestigious fundraising event in the world of fashion. Designed to support the Costume Institute of the Metropolitan Museum of Art in New York. Exclusive, massive in exposure, and with a red carpet that practically functioned as its own spectacle. There was a reason it was known as the Super Bowl of fashion.
Jenna had been invited. It made sense. Her recent breakout had put her at that level.
And beyond that, she liked it. Fashion wasn't her profession, but it was something she enjoyed. Dresses, design, that whole world interested her more than she usually admitted out loud. For her, being there was a goal achieved.
She had asked Owen to go with her.
Owen, who didn't have any real connection to that more glamorous side, hesitated at first. It wasn't his natural environment.
But he ended up accepting.
And with his current position, Oscar winner, meteoric rise, indie genius, and multimillionaire, getting an invitation wasn't difficult.
That would be their first public event together.
The moment when rumors would stop being rumors.
Then came Cannes. May 16th to the 27th.
There, the focus shifted. That was Owen's territory. Jenna would be the one accompanying him.
Before those two events, however, there was a middle step.
Georgia.
Owen was planning to travel from April 26th to the 30th. To check on the Lights Out shoot, see how his mother and sister were doing on their first feature film, and also be present during a stretch that, according to Matt, was going to be especially important. Key scenes.
Matt wanted him there. That forced a slight adjustment to the schedule. The start of Black Mirror production was pushed back.
It moved to May 2nd. A small delay, but a necessary one.
…
Chelsea was in her dorm room. Lying on her bed, something unusual for her. She had free time, and she wasn't using it to study.
Two days had passed since the final audition, and she still hadn't received anything. Even though she tried not to think about it constantly, it was there in the background, like the annoying buzz of a mosquito.
She was watching a movie. Luckily, it was a good one.
Good enough to, at least for moments, pull her out of that mental loop. To stop thinking. Just watch.
At one point, her phone vibrated.
Chelsea glanced at it out of habit, without reacting immediately. Just an automatic motion. Her eyes dropped to the screen, where a notification from her email was displayed.
She paused the movie, unlocked her phone, and saw that the sender was Second Take Films.
She stared at the name for another second. Swallowed.
It could be either outcome. A rejection or a confirmation.
She took a breath and opened it. Her eyes went straight to the first lines.
She didn't need to read much. She had been chosen. She was the lead.
"Yes!" she exclaimed, the reaction coming out on its own.
She shot up from the bed, jumping to her feet, a mix of excitement and relief that she could barely process.
It was hard to describe. It wasn't just happiness.
It was more. Her first real role. Truly real. Not a student short film, not something small or odd. This was 100% professional, with a respected director, a budget that surely exceeded a million dollars for just one episode, and two very well-known names as producers.
It took her a few minutes to calm down. She finally had her first role. What some actresses achieved in childhood had taken her more than twenty years.
Finally, she looked back at the email, reading more carefully. There was a contract attached.
She opened it, and that's when she paused.
Her heart nearly stopped for a second when she saw the amount.
20,000 dollars.
She stared at the number.
"That's a lot of money," she murmured, in disbelief.
She knew what the union minimum was.
This was above it, and by quite a bit.
She had never had that much money in her life. At least not personally. Yes, her parents paid for USC, everything that came with being there, but that was different. That wasn't her money.
This was.
This was for her work. And for only twelve days of shooting. She looked at the number again, as if needing to confirm it one more time.
She felt the emotion rising in her chest again, but this time she didn't let it take over.
She closed her eyes for a second and took a deep breath.
'Okay… calm down. I need to review the contract. Like they taught me in class,' she thought, forcing herself to slow down.
She went back to the document and began reading it carefully.
-------------------------------------------------
You can read 15 chapters in advance on my patreon.
Link: https://[email protected]/Nathe07