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.

Cole and Elliot giggled a few more times before falling in silence. It was only a few seconds of complete silence before Dahlia, our eleven-month-old sister, started screaming upstairs.

"The Goblin has woken up," Elliot murmured to me.

"Don't call her that" Dad appeared on the stairs with a tired face. "And don't you have school tomorrow?"

"Daisy and Cole are awake."

"Well, they are adults."

"I'm fifteen!" he justified, but Dad stared at him. "Damn. I can't wait to be an unemployed adult" he complained, going up stairs.

"Do you need help with Dahlia?" I offered, since I wouldn't be able to write with her screaming anyway.

"It's okay. If we ignore her for ten minutes, she goes back to sleep."

"Should we question your parenting methods?" Cole narrowed his eyes.

They both looked almost like carbon copies of each other.

Cole and I were the brothers most similar to Dad. We both had darker skin, brown hair and slanted eyes, that we had inherited from grandma who was part Vietnamese. While our other siblings were more reminiscent of Mom, even though the slanted eyes were present in them too.

"Hey, I raised two very healthy and talented adults this way" Dad pointed his finger in our direction with a jovial smile, despite the wrinkles in the corners of his eyes from years of dealing with crying children.

"And look, they're both unemployed and living under your roof" I added with a smile.

"For a short time. If you feel small to make a difference, remember that even mosquitos can make a noise when you're sleeping."

"Arghhhh, that was so bad" Cole said.

"How's your script going?" Dad ignored Cole and asked me, crossing his arms. He was wearing a white I Love NY blouse, which, believe it or not, we bought in Mexico.

"Sucking"

"If you..."

"Nope, we're not doing that again"

"Look, Daisy" Dad changed his relaxed tone. "I believe you. You're my greatest pride. Adversities can stop you for a while, but you were made for so much more."

I smiled.

Dad really encouraged me to be a filmmaker. When I was ten I turned to him and said that I wanted to be a film director. He smiled and replied that I would be the greatest director in this country.

No one takes seriously what a ten-year-old wants, but he still showed me his favorite director—Orson Welles—and we watched Citizen Kane, while Dad told me that the film bombed at the box office and was only years later considered one of the best films in history.

"How stupid! They missed a cool movie" I said, even though I understood absolutely nothing about the film. I just wanted to please my father like every daughter.

"Sometimes we've the right thing at hand, but it's not the right time" Dad answered. I had never understood that phrase at the time.

He took me to Hollywood two days later, showed me the Walk of Fame, the sign on Mount Lee and the Santa Monica Pier where several movies were filmed.

He made me believe in my potential. I think I would never have followed through with my dream if it weren't for my father. That's why it was even worse to come back here, I felt like I let him down.

Dahlia stopped crying upstairs, so Dad said goodbye and went back to his room.

Cole was back to his video games, but left the television on mute without me having to ask. So I tried to write.

But I couldn't.

These last three days at home doing nothing just made me even more irritated, all I could think about was Hearts on Fire, Cliff — who didn't bother to call or text me — and even Guy appeared in my thoughts.

I logged into my email again. I sent in a resume for an internship in every Hollywood production. Even for Grey's Anatomy. And no one has responded to me so far... When I opened my inbox there was a message with the subject marked "Job proposal".

With a little more desperation than necessary, I opened the email.

Daisy Lynton, we read your resume and we would like to offer you a position at Pizza Hut Oakland.

Right. I also sent one of these in case everything went wrong.

Is this the end of my life? Without a boyfriend, working at the same Pizza Hut I worked at when I was sixteen and with no perspective on life? Is that what I dedicated four years attending to a Film College and another two years in Stacker's production? I couldn't believe this was the end of the line for me. It couldn't be.

I deserved to be rewarded for my efforts, didn't I? I sacrificed my social life, my friendships, my family, even my relationship on that damn show. And it was all in vain due to one mistake.

Not from Guy. Or Cliff's. It was my mistake for letting the first adversity knock me to the ground.

I closed my eyes for a few seconds and suddenly found myself searching for Guy Carver on the internet.

The principal results were gossip articles talking about Guy's new girlfriend. There were several of these and her face changed with each site. It was not their mistake.

The most recent article talked about the fight with the photographer. It belonged to a newspaper called "Now What". It was written by someone named Summer.

I clicked.

The text was huge, so I just scrolled down the page until I reached a statement from the paparazzi:

"He looked like a lunatic. I thought he was going to kill me," said the photographer who had a fractured nose and a broken tooth.

We must remember that this is not the first case of assault involving the Hollywood star Guy Carver. Other close friends and neighbors have commented about his aggressive impulses.

A shiver ran up my spine. I've heard about Guy's neurotic behavior several times. Everyone has. But I've never seen it with my own eyes. On set, he just seemed like a drunken idiot, incapable of hurting anyone but himself with all the alcohol.

Underneath the article, there was a photo of him smiling for the camera. It was from some rehearsal he did that year. That sideways smile was his special trademark, along with his mirrored glasses.

"Is that the actor from Pride and Prejudice?" Cole asked.

"I thought you'd recognize him from James Bond."

"Should have said that, right? It's less embarrassing" he shook his head and I smiled a little.

"I worked with him on set.'

"Is he as hot in real life as in the photos?" He asked, without taking his eyes off the television. "I am easily attracted to men with blue eyes, what can I do?" he said when he noticed my silence.

"Guy is..."

An asshole.

I was going to say that, but I thought about how kind and patient he was that day with Cliff. Maybe I misjudged him. He was crazy and got me fired, it's true. But at the same time, I could see he felt bad about it.

Shit. It only took two hours with someone and I was already defending him.

I wasn't researching him out of curiosity. I was considering his marriage proposal, which meant I really hit rock bottom.

Well, it was still a possibility. I would be in Los Angeles, I could get my job back, and eventually get back on my feet. I just couldn't give up when I was so close to my dream.

But there were three problems.

First: I would have to marry Guy Carver.

Second: I would commit a crime.

Third: I would stay at his house for a while.

I thought about it all night, and in the morning I looked at that pink post-it in the bathroom and said: "You're about to become a cupcake, Daisy."

"I'm leaving the house" I announced to my family gathered at the ten-seat kitchen table for breakfast, while pulling the same pink Hello Kitty suitcase I came home with three days ago.

"They grow up so fast," Dad sighed.

"Are you going back to Cliff's house?" Elliot asked, without taking his eyes off his PSP.

"We're done," I repeated for the third time, and sat down between Cole and Briony.

"I don't understand why. You were such a beautiful couple! I thought they were going to get married" Mom said, tying her hair into a bun.

"We think it's better to be friends."

I didn't tell them the real reason I broke up with Cliff, because, well, my family loved Cliff and I didn't want to turn them against him.

I know they would take my side and stop talking to the Whites right away. Cliff's parents weren't to blame for their son being a cheating asshole, so I decided I wouldn't say anything.

Only Cole knew, because I couldn't keep secrets from him.

"Hey, if you want I can beat him up" Elliot offered.

"It won't be necessary" I shook my head, unable to imagine Elliot with his skinny arms knocking on Cliff's door.

"It's a shame. He was like the son I never had" said Dad, handing a loaf of bread to my eight-year-old sister.

"Very funny" Cole said humorlessly.

"Are you never going to date again, Day?" asked Briony, her mouth full of breadcrumbs.

"No, I won't and neither should you. Men suck" I replied with a smile.

"But you can also date women. There's nothing wrong with that" Dad said, patting Briony on the shoulder. I rolled my eyes.

"Thank you for the staycation, but I need to go. Success awaits me" I stuffed a piece of bread into my mouth and got up from the chair, determined to get my life back.

And maybe get married.