The Hollywood Pact

Ten

DAISY

LADY EVERLYE
by Daisy Lynton

INT. - LADY HARRISONE'S HOUSE - AFTERNOON

LADY EVERLYE walks through the halls of her friend's house. Suddenly, she bumps into the Duke of Lancashire. She's surprised as she did not expect to see the Duke in the English countryside, least of all here at a ladies' afternoon tea.

EVERLYE: Oh, I'm sorry, your highness!

LANCASHIRE: Do not, please. It was nothing.

EVERLYE smiles weakly.

LANCASHIRE: Sorry, we haven't been introduced.

EVERLYE: Kelcie Everlye, I am the second daughter of the Viscount of Essex. Forgive me for the inconvenience of the question, but what is your highness doing here? I thought you'd be in London for the season [It is a truth universally acknowledged, that a single man in possession of a good fortune, must be in want of a wife (Delete that. You're not Jane Austen, Daisy!)]

"English people drink mocha?" I squinted my eyes, feeling the notebook heat up on my lap.

It was three in the morning and I was sitting in my parents' living room, trying to finish that damn scene.

Lady Everlye was a personal project of mine that I started in college. A script for a movie, possibly a miniseries if I added a scene or two. To sum up, it was set in Victorian London and followed the saga of Lady Everlye, a captivating and murderous woman, who seduces the Duke of Lancashire in order to frame him for her murders.

I don't know where the idea came from exactly. But I know it was at some point while reading Pride and Prejudice for the twentieth time and thinking "Elizabeth Bennet could hide a body and get away with it."

"They drink tea. English is right beside China" My younger brother with his brain eaten by video games answered. "Ah! You stole it, you idiot!" Elliot exclaimed, pushing our other brother, Cole.

"It's not my fault you suck at Street Fight" he replied with a small smile, pushing Elliot to his side of the sofa.

"For God's sake, shut up" I sighed, throwing my head against Dad's armchair.

Being home again felt good.

Sometimes.

Mom insisted on doing everything for me, so I didn't have to worry about dirty clothes and eating popcorn for lunch for the second time a week. Dad tried to encourage me by quoting these inspiring phrases to "cheer me up".

But at the same time, it sucked living with my parents again, because it meant stepping back two slots in the Independence Game.

I already went through this phase of leaving home, starting my own life in the big city and, suddenly, I was here once again.

And all those treats from my parents weren't as good as they seemed. Yesterday, my mom asked for Stacker's number to curse him for firing me like that—for the director's sake, I said I didn't have his number. The phrases my father put on a post-it note on the bathroom mirror started to get weirder and weirder.

Like today, which was: "Cupcakes are muffins that believed in miracles".

Inspiring, Dad, thank you.

To put a cherry on the top of the cake, there was my brothers and the fact that I had to share a room with Cole. The situation was already embarrassing in itself, but it was even more so to think that we were both over twenty-five and still in the same situation we were ten years ago.