The Heiress
A short story
“Cut!”
“Ms. Petersen, for the — how many times now?”
“Ten, sir.”
“Tenth time. The line is ‘I loathe you, Bradley,’ not ‘I love you, Bradley.’”
“But he’s so sweet.”
“Yes, Mr. Donner is a good man, but in this film he plays an evil one who wants your children. You must despise him. Understand?”
“Yes. I’m sorry.”
“No matter. Let’s finish this scene, shall we? Action!”
“I loathe you, Bradford.”
“Enough! Lunch break! Ms. Petersen, if you weren’t the owner’s daughter — ”
“Sir, remember what the doctor said about your temper.”
“Right. Lunch, everyone. A scotch, too, if you’ve got it. Lord knows I need one.”
The truth remained: Lydia was no actress.
She was heir to one of the largest film production companies in the world, yet desired none of it. Lydia longed for the outdoors.
She yearned to be a lumberjack! Indeed, a lumberjack! Leaping from tree to tree!
Apologies, I couldn’t resist. Monty Python clips all week have left me feeling quite silly.
