The Ambassador Hotel was not actually a hotel. It existed in pieces across Section 8, severed limbs that could never be assembled into one space. And yet it lived in Stevie's memories as a real and complete place. She had seen it in dozens of Greetings Channel movies, each time dressed a little differently but recognizable to her hungry eyes.
There was something ghoulish about seeing it in its dissected chunks. One soundstage contained its ballroom, another had its lobby and some hallway. Tucked in the back was the stage with the hotel rooms. There were four inside the building, of varying luxury, pressed together in a cube. The faux-Four Seasons suite sharing a wall with the roach motel.
Stevie had fled hair and make up as soon as her dress had been zipped. She couldn't stay in the room with Thelwell a moment longer. He was too deceptively perfect. Considerate, graceful, and yet empty. He filled the room with so much of himself that the man left behind was just a shell.
When he had read the script, said her character was beautiful, goosebumps had risen up her arms. She had believed him, and that was humiliating.
Zeke had left her at the sound stage, his frenetic energy a brief reprieve from Stevie's self-loathing.
Fast was already commanding the set when she walked in, she was conspicuously early. Rather than approach the well-oiled machine that was lighting and rigging the hotel room she walked around the edge of the soundstage to look at the unused sets.
The econo-single-queen was depressingly similar to where Stevie had spent the last ten years crashing and the motel was more whimsical than accurate with its peeling wallpaper and askew light fixtures.
The luxury 'Presidential' suite where Thelwell's scenes would be shot was dollhouse-beautiful. It had been redressed so the room on the other side of the wall could be believably its lower class match. When Stevie stepped up onto the set she could smell fresh paint. It was subtle, but present.
All the lights were on the other side, and only the bleed from the set illuminated the Ambassador Presidential Suites.
Stevie trailed her finger over the bedding, picturing the scene from A Silent Night.
The heroine, a concert pianist confronting her hearing loss, had stayed the night here with her leading man, a genius composer who needed to learn the true meaning of Christmas.
It was a classic, a mold-breaker because not only was the heroine's hearing not magically restored at the end of the movie but the leads had a passionate Christmas Eve encounter. It had blown little Stephanie Strada's hormones into orbit when she was thirteen. Now she was grateful that there was no love scene between Mae Bright and her Prince Charming.
Or at least, not yet.
She calmed herself, the Greetings Channel rarely had love scenes. They were too family friendly. Fading to Black was their idea of spicy. No, she assured herself, this script didn't meet any of the four indicators of Greeting Channel whoopee.
Their characters weren't exes, they weren't divorced or widowed single parents, it wasn't set in Vegas or California, and the leads ended the movie together but not engaged. Stevie was decidedly completely safe from having to do anything more than chastely kiss Lionel Thelwell.
And that was nerve-wracking enough.
She sat hard on the bed, bouncing on the mattress and listening to the springs squeak.
Something gasped awake, sitting bolt upright on the loveseat across from Stevie. She would have screamed if the shock hadn't stolen her voice.
Mei looked around disoriented for a moment, fumbling to get her glasses back on. Stevie exhaled slowly as Mei twisted to look over the back of the settee at her. Mei's mouth dropped open in shock.
"How long did I sleep?" she asked, scrambling to power on her laptop and organize the papers that blanketed her body.
"I don't know," Stevie answered, her voice a little breathless from the surprise.
"What time is it?"
"I don't know," she didn't have a watch and there were no clocks in sight.
"What have you shot so far?"
"Nothing."
"Oh thank goodness," Mei collapsed to the side.
"Don't tell me there will be more rewrites," Stevie implored. Mei threw her head back and cackled. She was less withdrawn than the day they had met, now she was frazzled and half feral.
"Every day. The board will have requests every day," Mei sounded a little delirious.
"Why?" Stevie liked the script, and while it could be better such aggressive changes seemed unnecessary. Mean-spirited even.
Mei rested her elfin face in her palm and regarded Stevie in the half light as if she were a fantasy creature. The blue light from the laptop glinted over Mei's glasses.
"They will watch the dailies and if they see something they could package better or some direction that will be unique enough to hold an audience, then they turn that thing up to an eleven."
Of course, at the end of the day Stevie's Christmas Miracle was a mass market media property. They could always make more money.
"Then why are you here, in the dark? You must have an office."
"I do," Mei sighed. She had a dreamy look in her eye. "Once we get going I can't stay there. If I am on set there is a chance I can get ahead of the magic, predict the change before the request comes in. Plus, I can picture it better here. That makes me write faster."
Stevie nodded, it made sense. Mei turned back to her laptop, her fingers running over the keys. Stevie was tempted to ask about the rewrites that had already come through, but she stopped herself. She had to focus on today. This sequence would be the selling point, the Cinderella moment, and she had to nail it.
"Do you like what you do?"
Mei paused in her typing to think. Her long pale finger tapping on her chin. "Yes. Yes, I do."
"Don't they throw out a lot of your work?"
"Yes, but they keep a lot too. They also don't mind if scenes come back in a different movie. What gets cut here, might just show up in the next one."
Stevie lifted her feet off the ground and wrapped her arm around her knees. The dress was uncomfortable to sit in and to stand in. Stevie very much wanted to sleep.
She yawned loudly, reminding herself she had to stay upright.
"Is this ruining it for you?" Mei asked without turning away from her computer.
"Talking to you?"
"No. Well yes, I guess. Seeing how the magic's made?"
It was Stevie's turn to think. "It changes it, but its not ruined. Sometimes if I can just forget the camera is there then its like I stepped into Holiday Sister Swap or Season's Bounty or something."
Mei produced a granola bar from unseen recesses and began to devour it. She nodded along to Stevie's words. "I prefer A Christmas Bride over Sister Swap."
"I love that one," Stevie whined with affection. "When he wakes up from the coma and thinks he's engaged to the other twin? So much better than body swapping."
"I know," Mei clenched her fists passionately. "How could he not tell his fiancée was acting like a completely different person? Magical realism my foot."
"I thought she should have dumped him. They both should have."
Mei laughed conspiratorially, "I would have had them get therapy. "
Stevie laughed too, "they needed it. My fiance cheated on me and magic is real? Bare minimum I am calling Doctor Drew."
"The one episode of 'Loveline' you hope taped," Mei laughed. She picked up a notebook and scribbled in it. "Okay, we are using that one next."
"Can I be in it?" Stevie teased.
"Of course, you will be Dr. Drew. I hope we can book one of the better sets of twins. 80s childstars are unbearable."
Mei kept scribbling. Stevie watched her. "Wait, are you really going to write it."
"It's going on the pitch list at least. Its good to keep a few wackier ones on there, easy cuts so they spend more time on the good stuff."
"Well, I am happy I could be of service."
The hubbub from over the wall was beginning to die down, Stevie wondered if they were almost ready. She should have studied her script more, but it had been grounding to talk to Mei. To know someone else on set liked these movies enough to watch them.
"Was this movie a throwaway pitch?" Stevie asked before she could regret it.
Mei frowned at the question as she returned to typing. Stevie realized she cared a lot about the answer.
"Not really," Mei said, turning her head to look at Stevie again. Her eyes lingered longer taking in the picture of her star sitting on the end of the bed, her ballgown spread across the bedding. "More like the Underdog. I am glad they picked it."
"Me too." Stevie stood shaking out her gown. She had been gone too long. "Are you going to come watch me?"
Mei's eyes had returned to the screen, the bright light illuminating her features from below gave her a dazed look. She made a noncommittal sound and lifted a thumbs up to Stevie, her other hand still flying over the keys.
Stevie slipped away as she heard Fast's voice begin to echo on the other side of the sound stage.