Vancouver, British Columbia
An arguing married couple—matching rings and scowls—sniped at one another as they hauled their luggage out of a carousel. A woman in camouflage knelt and squeezed two small children in a tight hug, and they clung to her. A man in a business suit, his eyes glued to a smartphone, narrowly missed running into an elderly couple sorting their luggage.
Billie looked at the arrivals board. Twenty-three minutes since the plane out of Detroit landed. It would suck if Di missed her flight. Billie wasn’t eager to go into this alone.
“There you are!”
Billie turned toward the sound of her best friend’s voice. Diana always looked put together—today it was a pants suit and heels that would cause most models to fall on a runway, but Di walked in them as though they were sneakers.
Billie gawked at Diana.
“Don’t.” Diana held up a hand. “The humidity was seventy-eight percent back in Detroit. Do you know what that does to curly hair?”
“That?” Billie gestured to Diana’s frizzy black mop.
“Yes. That. This is my carousel? Good. They searched my carry-on at Customs. They went through my panties, Bils! A non-hot guy touched my underwear! That’s never happened in the history of ever! I had heart palpitations!” Diana clutched her chest.
Billie wondered how the Customs agent had reacted to Closet Sidney.
“Plus, I sat beside an old man with emphysema the whole way here,” Diana continued without missing a beat—or taking a breath. “He wheezed, like a death rattle. I thought he’d croak and I’d have to sit next to his dead body.”
“Don’t jinx it!” Billie exclaimed. “Remember our pact? No more talk about dead bodies.” She spotted Diana’s Pittsburgh Penguins suitcase on the carousel and hoisted it out. Three more followed. Diana wasn’t a light packer.
“Bring enough?” Billie asked.
Diana examined Billie’s luggage cart, which was packed with cases of photography equipment.
“Bring the whole studio?” Diana asked.
Billie laughed. “They said I wouldn’t need lights, but you want some character headshots for public relations. I don’t want to steal their equipment, I know how I am about mine.”
“Mmm-hmm. I sent out press releases from the plane. I want to have reporters in to tour the set in a couple days.”
“From the plane?” Diana was a workaholic, but this was new.
“Free Wi-Fi in-flight, and a new iPad from my parents as a graduation gift. What did yours get you?”
Billie sighed. “A briefcase. A monogrammed briefcase.”
“But . . . you’re a photographer. You don’t need a briefcase.”
“I know. They think if they keep giving me this stuff, I’ll suddenly decide I really want to go to law school.” Even after she’d graduated with a fine arts degree, Billie’s parents kept pushing her to “pursue a respectable field with steady work.”
“I can’t believe we’re here!” Diana squeezed Billie’s free hand. “Our first movie, it’s going to be awesome. We’re going to be awesome! Oh, don’t let me forget to give you my throwaway phone number, I picked one up in Windsor before I left Detroit. Did you get one?”
“I haven’t had a chance yet.”
“We’ll get one once we settle in at the hotel. You don’t want to use your usual, the roaming charges are god awful in Canada.”
“Speaking of picking things up, who’s picking us up?”
“The line producer, I forget her name. Claudia something?” Di brushed her hair out of her eyes and attempted to smooth it down. “Let’s skip to more exciting stuff. Sidney Crosby is up for best NHL player at the ESPY Awards later this week. He’s up against Alex Ovechkin, so he’s going to win.”
“I’m happy for him . . . and you.” Billie learned the day of freshman move-in that Diana’s obsession with the hockey player knew no bounds. Diana came from Hockeytown, but she couldn’t name a player on the Red Wings, unless she swore at them during a Penguins game. Somehow Sidney Crosby captured her attention, and it wasn’t his goal-scoring and Olympic medal-winning prowess. No, it had something to do with his abs.
Billie eyed Diana’s carry-on. She’d bet good money Closet Sidney was in there—hopefully none the worse for wear after his brush with Customs.
“Any idea how we find her?” Billie didn’t see anyone holding a sign with the movie’s name on it. Granted, The Reaper would look odd in an airport.
“You two,” a woman said. “Billie Jessop and Diana DeAngelis?”
“Yeah,” they answered.
“Good. I’m Claudia Harris, line producer, first assistant director, location scout ever since he quit week two, and now, apparently, your driver. Lucky me. Which is which?”
“I’m Di.” Diana raised her hand. “And that’s Billie.” She pointed.
Billie waved.
“You have all your bags? Good. We need to move. Elyse is in the van, we’re parked in a loading zone, and I don’t need a ticket. Did you bring other shoes? You’ll need sneakers where we’re going.”
“Where are we going?” Diana looked at her heels.
“A lodge. In the woods. About a hundred miles from here. The drive is awful, the worst is an unpaved road. God, I hate non-smoking places. Let’s get outside.” Claudia charged ahead into the throng of people.
“Did she say a lodge?” Billie asked.
“I thought we were staying in Vancouver!” Diana exclaimed. “You know, nice hotel, restaurants nearby, weekend trips to Whistler to meet cute boys . . . .”
“It doesn’t sound like it. Come on. She walks fast, she’ll probably drive off without us.”
Instead, Claudia was outside, puffing on a cigarette like it was her only salvation while standing next to a fourteen-passenger van. Claudia was tall, and her reddish brown hair was pulled into a tight bun. She wore rectangular frame glasses and pursed her lips around her cigarette so tightly they almost disappeared. Her chin and nose were sharp. She’d be nice to photograph in profile. She was freshly starched and ironed, which contrasted with the reek of smoke coming off her.
“Alright, let’s go.” Claudia ground out the half-smoked cigarette on the van’s hood and stowed the rest of it in the pack. Waste not, want not.
Diana climbed in first, moving into the middle row of seats, and Billie followed. A woman with dark, straight hair sat in the back, writing on a legal pad.
“Where is this place?” Claudia asked.
“It’s the cargo hangar we passed on the way in. Hi. I’m Elyse Carter,” the woman said. “Cinematographer.”
“I’m Diana DeAngelis, unit publicity, and this is Billie Jessop, stills photographer.” Di sounded as though she knew what she was doing, even when she hadn’t done it before.
“Where are you guys from?” Elyse asked.
“Los Altos,” Billie said. “Near San Jose.”
“Detroit,” Diana said. “But we met at UCLA.”
“Good, you’ll fit in, some of the crew is from LA,” Elyse said. “Although I’m USC Film School.”
“I take it we’ll call a truce during shooting?” Diana asked.
Elyse smirked. “I won’t chant fUCLA if you promise not to burn any mascots in effigy.”
“Deal.” Diana leaned forward. “Claudia, where are we going?”
Claudia didn’t answer; she was arguing with someone over a Bluetooth.
“It’s called Cutthroat Creek Lodge,” Elyse offered. “It’s in this mountain pass outside the city. Real end-of-the-world vibe out there.”
“So we’re really not staying in Vancouver?” Diana asked. “Could we drive in?”
“Only if you want to do a two-hour drive on an unpaved road, then drive another hour and a half to Vancouver.”
“We’re going to the boonies? How am I supposed to entice reporters to come?”
“They’ll come,” Elyse said. “It’s an Ira Goldman picture, and they’ll come just for that. It’s getting them to stay. The place is really nice, but there’s no Internet and only landline phones.”
Diana went pale. “No Internet? No cell phones?”
Billie sat back on the bench seat. At least now she had an excuse for not calling or answering her parents’ emails.
Diana was quiet, likely brooding over the loss of contact with the modern world. Billie wasn’t worried for herself—the quiet suited her. Everything would be fine if she wasn’t so nervous about meeting the crew and actors.
“Where are we going now?” Billie wanted to distract herself.
“We’re picking up some of my lights and equipment,” Elyse explained. “Richard destroyed a set when he backed the grip truck into the lake. We had to express new equipment up from LA since the rental company here wouldn’t give us more until we settled the insurance claim.”
“Which is my nightmare.” Claudia jabbed at the headset in her ear. The phone rang again, and she swore and clicked the headset on, barking a hello.
“And Richard’s the director?” Diana asked. “I saw one of his movies before I left. It was like Sharknado, but with badgers and weasels.”
“Yeah, Richard’s the director,” Elyse said.
There was a note of warning in her voice that Billie didn’t like. At all.
The van stopped at a cargo hangar, and Billie and Di waited while Claudia and Elyse went to get the delivery.
“I don’t know about you, but I’m starting to feel a little leery about this,” Diana said.
“What do you mean?”
“Not staying in Vancouver like it said originally, an insurance claim before they even start shooting, a director who makes movies about vermin, a cabin in the middle of nowhere—”
“Lodge. That sounds like civilization.”
“No Internet!” Diana countered. “Do you know how hard that makes my job? No electronic press kits—I’m going to have to snail mail if I can’t get press people on the phone!”
Diana had a point. It was strange the lodge had no Internet. Billie didn’t mind being trapped in the middle of nowhere, but she didn’t want to be trapped in the middle of nowhere with Diana.
On a sorority retreat, they camped in the desert near the Salton Sea. Diana claimed it was something out of a post-apocalyptic horror film and spearheaded a campaign that saw most of the sorority packing up and heading to a spa in Palm Desert. Billie was treasurer that year, and the entire year’s retreat budget was blown in one night. She shuddered to think what Di could instigate on a film set.
“I bet they’ll have a fax machine. You can send the press kits that way.”
“Oh, I know you, you’ll be fine traipsing around the woods like a nymph, but think of me. Think of Sidney.”
Billie laughed and glanced at Diana’s carry-on. “I’m sure he’ll be fine. I’ll admit, this sounds a little weird. But just think—it’s paid work and film credits and they’re helping us secure visas. That’s a big deal. We’ll be able to pay our rent here in Vancouver.”
Diana sighed. “Yeah. Rent. Fabulous.”
Diana’s only glimpse of the city was the airport and a highway. Even that shrank into the distance, as they turned off the Trans-Canada Highway and went through the small town of Agassiz.
She chewed the inside of her lip—her next-to-youngest brother, Innocenzio, said she would chew through it—and wondered how she could do her job without cell phones or Internet access. It would take every ounce of charm she had to convince reporters to drive more than three hours one way when there were plenty of productions filming in Vancouver.
She perked up as they passed a sign for Harrison Hot Springs, hoping there would be a spa nearby, but Elyse snuffed that flicker of hope when she explained they were still a long way out.
Billie asked about the signs advertising sasquatch tours and tchotchkes as they drove through the small town with a big hotel. Sasquatch statues were everywhere. The provincial park was even named Sasquatch.
“You know it as bigfoot,” Elyse explained. “There have been a lot of sightings around here, but it’s shy and runs away from people. You ought to ask Joe, the lodge manager, about some of the local myths. His band has lived around here for ages, and he knows all of the First Nations legends.”
“I wonder if he would let me do an interview,” Diana said. “I don’t suppose they’ve incorporated any of them into the script, have they? That would be a great hook.”
Elyse made a face. “Not as far as I know, but ask again tomorrow—it may have changed by then.”
An awful suspicion settled in Diana’s stomach like a lead balloon. “How many times has the script been re-written?”
Elyse shrugged. “A couple. Actually . . . a lot. I’m not sure how many times it’s been revised. I’m not even sure what we’re shooting anymore.”
“But that’s not unusual.” Billie gave up trying to photograph the scenery, since Claudia was doing her best to get pulled over for reckless driving, or failing that, kill them in an accident. “Scripts are re-written all the time, aren’t they?”
“It isn’t unusual for a script to be re-written.”
“Even more than once?” Billie asked.
“Even more than once,” Elyse confirmed. “But . . . .”
“But what?” Diana asked.
“This is more than usual. But don’t worry—we’re starting the shoot in a few days. Everything has to be settled by then. I hope.”
Claudia argued loudly and emphatically with someone over the Bluetooth. Every once in a while, she pounded her palm against the steering wheel to make a particularly important point. As Claudia became more agitated, the van shuddered back and forth.
They made the turn onto an unpaved road, and Claudia cursed, grabbed the Bluetooth and flung it into the passenger seat. “The damn thing cut out on me!”
“You should expect it by now,” Elyse said placidly. “You lose the signal here every time.”
Di’s eyes widened. “You were serious about no cell phone access?”
“I said so, didn’t I?” Claudia asked. “There’s nothing at all once you get to Penowa. Not even a single bar. No cell towers.”
This was a complete and total nightmare.
They flew through the last outpost of civilization, Penowa—a small, sagging cluster of houses huddled around a gas station—and flashed by a solo ranger tower in the distance before plunging into woods. Claudia growled curses, tree branches slapped at the windows, pebbles rattled against the undercarriage and Billie’s camera stopped snapping.
Billie turned a delicate shade of green. She closed her eyes and gulped air.
Di leaned forward. “Slow down, Claudia. Bils is going to lose her lunch.”
“I can’t. I’ve got to get back—Richard needs me.”
“Richard doesn’t need you to wreck.” Elyse put aside her legal pad. “She really does look nauseous, Claude. You need to slow down. Richard will be mad if she gets sick in the van.”
“I’ll be okay.” Billie pressed a hand to her mouth.
“No you won’t,” Di growled. “Slow down, Claudia.”
“I’m not holding your hands through this shoot,” Claudia warned.
“As long as we’re alive for no hand-holding, that’s just fine. Now, slow down.”
“She’s right, Claude,” Elyse weighed in. “You’re going awfully fast.”
Claudia sighed, then cut her speed. “We’re nearly there, anyway.”
The forest receded to reveal a pebbled beach hugging a large lake, the water as smooth as glass and reflecting the endless blue sky. A three-story lodge nestled against the lake. It was heavy on the rustic touches, with plenty of large windows and cedar. It was claustrophobic, crowded by mountains and an evergreen forest. There wasn’t another building visible to break up the green expanse or even hint at civilization, just power lines marching back down the pothole-ridden road.
The van crunched down the gravel drive, throwing up a plume of dust. It slewed to a stop in front of the lodge, next to an identical van. Diana was thrown against the seat belt as the van rocked to a halt.
Claudia vaulted out as soon as the engine cut off and yelled at people to help unload.
“She’s a charmer,” Di said.
Elyse laughed. “You get used to her. She’s not so bad; she just has a lot of things on her mind. Once shooting starts, she’ll settle down. Mostly.” She joined the crowd of people milling around the van.
People grabbed cases and rushed off with them, and Claudia barked orders.
Di climbed out of the van. She enjoyed the sharp tang of pine and the soft breeze after being trapped for hours in the stuffy van, which reeked of smoke.
Billie bounced out and snapped pictures of the ruckus.
Elyse came around the side of the van, two burly men—one had to be seven-and-a-half feet tall, if not bigger—behind her. The men carried their luggage.
“Tiny and Jerry are going to carry your stuff up. Joe will give you your key.” Elyse waved and headed toward a group of tents on the far side of the lodge.
Diana looked at the two men—she bet the huge one was Tiny—then at Billie, who still was taking pictures.
“This is great!” Billie lowered her camera. “It’s so relaxing.”
Claudia stormed by, a heavy case balanced on each shoulder, still yelling.
“Relaxing?” Diana raised an eyebrow.
Billie grinned. “Okay, but it is pretty.”
“No Internet. No civilization. No boys.” She ticked off on her fingers. “No offense,” she told Tiny and Jerry.
The big man rumbled laughter.
Diana took a deep breath, stood up straight and marched toward the lodge, Billie and the two men trailing behind.