Silver Screens Silver Bells

This is my entry for the

Winter Holidays Story Contest 2023

. This is a new experience for me, for a variety of reasons. I usually never write stuff this outright romantic, cutesy, or cozy, and I never really write stuff set in the modern day, either.

This story is an homage to and a parody of the silly Christmas romance movies that pop up on TV this time of year. It is very much intended to be a fun, feel-good story with a happy ending.

I definitely took liberties with the filmmaking process, and this is not at all intended to be an accurate depiction of the craft of acting or moviemaking. Just a fun, breezy, lesbian romance story set against the backdrop of a cheesy holiday movie.

Given the sheer amount of these sorts of holiday movies, it is certainly possible that the plot of this story (and the movie within the story) have been done before, but any resemblance to an existing movie or story is completely coincidental.

And although it is a cozy and romantic story, it does definitely include a fair share of sex.

While editing this I also realized that it might be a bit tough to keep the characters straight from the characters they play in the movie within the story, so for handy reference, here's a quick summary:

Ariane Wallace plays Valentina Steel

Eve Carpenter plays Emilia Harrington

Chris Harper plays Garret Armisen

Ernest Beckwith plays Old Man Bailey

I hope you enjoy!

**

When I saw my agent's name on the caller ID, I snatched up my phone. As my finger hovered over the 'accept' icon, I frowned and paused.

No. I couldn't answer too quickly. I didn't want to seem too desperate.

But God, I certainly was.

Two months since I'd had an acting gig, and that had been a bit part as a murder victim in some stupid police procedural. Before that, I had a few lines as a flirtatious barista in a sitcom on its fifteenth season, preceded by a string of minor speaking roles and a handful of voice-acting gigs. Enough to get by for the past year, but only barely.

So yeah, I was in fact desperate enough to pick up by the third ring.

"Hey, Janice," I said, keeping my tone casual and calm. "What's up?"

I managed not to shriek out a wild plea for a decent gig. A recurring spot on a halfway-decent drama, even, or a notable guest role in some slick new sci-fi series. Christ, anything but a murder victim or a barista.

"Hey, Ariane," Janice said. I heard the shuffling of papers on the other end of the line, and hoped she wasn't looking through headshots of other potential clients to replace me. "Got something for you. A bit unconventional, though."

Baristas and murder victims were the most conventional roles a struggling actress could land, so maybe 'unconventional' was a good sign.

"Depends on the shoot schedule," I said. "But I might be interested."

I'm certain she'd rolled her eyes at the pathetic lie, but I had to keep up the pretense of not being a pathetically eager client.

"Last time we talked, you said you didn't have any holiday plans, so if that's still the case, this could work out."

"Right, right," I said.

Usually I went back to New Jersey to spend a week or so with my parents, but this year they were jetting off to Rome for the holiday since they were coming up on their thirtieth anniversary. Christmas in Rome...that was like something from one of those shlocky holiday romance movies.

Christmas in Rome

could have even been the title of one.

"It's a holiday romance movie. Called

The Grove's Gift

. Hear me out, though, before you turn your nose up at it. "

I clenched my jaw.

"God damn it," I muttered, then winced when I realized I'd said it aloud.

"I know, I know," Janice continued. "But listen: it's a short shoot. Just about a week. Starts December eighteenth."

"Filming over the holiday? That's weird. Don't they usually shoot these things in the summer and just pump in the fake snow?"

"Usually, yeah, but this one is filming over the holidays as a marketing gimmick. They film it this Christmas, and they'll make a big deal in the marketing next holiday season that it was made with 'actual Christmas magic' before the release."

"Okay...well, yeah, no plans this year, so the schedule works out." I glanced over at the calendar on my wall, with the sticky notes I'd placed upon it to remind me of my bills. I was getting by with savings and residuals from a few older jobs, but an influx of cash from a movie gig would be just what I needed to get me through until spring. "Where's it at?"

"A place called Wagner's Grove, in upstate New York. This cute little town at the base of a small mountain, near this gorgeous little lake, and surrounded by gorgeous old forests. With expenses covered, you could think of it like a vacation. A Christmas mountain getaway."

"Well, I can't turn my nose up at the location, at least. But what about the plot?"

"A big company just discovered natural gas deposits under the town. So the out-of-town bigshots are suing the little town to force them to sell all their land. So there's a bit of a legal drama subplot to it, along with all the typical romantic stuff.

"Huh. Almost seems a bit too...topical for a movie like that. An environmentalist angle?"

"Wouldn't surprise me if they cut those parts and re-shot it so it's about building a new ski resort or something. Still over a month until the shoot and more than a year until release, so there's time for them to make it more generic. We'll see."

"Okay, so what's the role? The small-town girl returning home and reuniting with her long-lost love? A hot-shot lawyer for the gas company who falls for the dreamy sheriff's deputy?"

Though I had no interest in men in real life, I could certainly play the role of a straight woman if I needed the money. And a silly holiday movie wouldn't entail any intimate scenes. At most, I'd just have to give the guy a chaste, romantic little kiss at the end.

"Oh," Janice said, her voice dropping. "I'm sorry, Ariane. The part I've got for you isn't for the lead."

My jaw dropped, and I sagged back down onto my futon. God, the thought of being a lead in a two-bit Christmas special was galling enough, but to play second fiddle to some

other

struggling actress was enough to make me reconsider my dad's offer of a job at his towing company back in New Jersey.

Once again I glanced at the calendar, reminding myself of the storm of bills awaiting me.

"Okay," I said slowly. "What's my part?"

"You get to play the bad guy. Bad girl. Bad bitch. Whatever. Valentina Steel. A cold-hearted attorney representing the company that wants to force the town to sell all its land and forests. So you're gonna be the one trying to ruin all the Christmas magic for the romantic leads. The lead female role is a botanist who is coming to this town to study its old growth forests. The love interest is a hot-shot lawyer for the gas firm, and your character's co-worker. So the two leads are both strangers to this small town, who come to love the town and each other. And there's all sorts of quirky townsfolk who help them recognize the power of love and Christmas and all that."

"Valentina Steel...the name's kind of badass, in a ridiculous sort of way."

"I said pretty much the same thing to the friend who sent this my way. It's a real nasty role, too. Some pretty choice lines about how Christmas is terrible and how the forests all need to get torn down in the name of progress. Real ice queen stuff. Could be fun. And it's ten grand for the week."

I let out a long sigh.

Ten grand for a winter getaway where I just had to chew scenery and look mean in a business suit. I could swallow my pride enough for that.

"Valentina Steel," I muttered. "I guess if I can prove I can play a lawyer type, that could be good for my reel for other auditions, right? There's a million cop and legal dramas on TV."

"My thinking exactly. And worst-case scenario, you get to enjoy a week in a cozy little snowy paradise, and get paid ten grand to do it."

I tapped my finger on my thigh.

"Okay, I'm in."

"Great. I'll send your headshots and footage over to the producer. She owes me a favor, so you're a shoe-in. I'll be in touch."

After we bade our farewells I flopped back onto the futon, let out a long sigh, and stared at the ceiling.

The Grove's Gift

. A cozy little town assailed by nasty corporate interests. Star-crossed lovers falling for each other against the backdrop of Christmas magic. Valentina Steel. Ridiculous.

But I could be ridiculous for ten grand.

**

A month later, just past midnight a week before Christmas, I shuffled across the airport towards the taxi stands. The studio had said they'd send a car for me, but my flight had been delayed by hours, so there was nobody there to greet me. Instead I had to shell out an absurd amount of money for a cab ride from the little airport to the town of Wagner's Grove.

I'd been looking forward to admiring the mountain and lakeside views on the drive, but it was too dark and too late for such sightseeing. Exhausted, I slumbered in the backseat, lulled asleep by the rocking of the car and the whirring of the wiper blades as they fought off the falling snow.

I awoke to a blast of cold in my face as the driver opened the door. We'd stopped in the middle of an idyllic little town ripped right from one of those stupid TV holiday movies. A cozy main street, with Christmas lights festooned above quaint little shops and colonial-style homes. I spotted at least three bakeries, two old-timey barber shops, and a general store of the sort that had gone out of fashion decades ago. No national chains or big box stores there in Wagner's Grove.

Snorting with amusement at the candy-cane wrappings upon the streetlamps, I thanked the driver and collected my suitcase from the trunk. I fumbled for my phone, shivering in the cold as I brought up the address for my hotel.

No, not a hotel.

A bed and breakfast.

Of course. A little Christmas paradise like this wouldn't have a proper hotel.

I wandered down the festive street, my path lit by strings of lights and glittering Christmas displays within storefront windows, and turned onto a quiet residential street. Having spent the past five years in Los Angeles, I was entirely unprepared for the cold, even with the heavy-duty jacket I'd spent way too much on.

Finally I arrived at the lodgings the studio had arranged for me: Sally's Bake and Breakfast.

God. The town was so damned quaint it had a bakery

and

a bed and breakfast all rolled into one. I headed inside, the door chiming as I entered.

There was nobody to greet me, just a little envelope with a key to the room, and a plate of cookies as if I was Santa snooping in to deliver presents. Inside the envelope was a hand-written note from Sally herself, thanking me for supporting their town and the local businesses.

A bit charmed by that, I scarfed down the cookies, headed upstairs, and stared awestruck in the doorway at the Christmas decorations that covered every inch of my room. Pillows shaped like reindeer, presents stacked high in the corner, a tree adorned with little handmade wooden ornaments, and bedspreads made to look like wrapping paper.

With a groan, I tore off my coat and slumped down onto the festive bedding. In moments, I was out.

A pounding on my door snapped me awake, and I jolted upright. I checked my phone: dead.

"Fuck."

The pounding grew louder.

"Ariane Wallace?"

"Yeah," I murmured, blinking sleep from my eyes, and rising to yank open the door.

Outside stood a short, frowning young man in a snow-flecked vest, with a headset around his neck and a clipboard in his hand.

"Thought you'd gone off the road or something on your way here. You're late for makeup."

"Shit, sorry. Rough night."

He ignored my apology and showed me outside to a waiting car. Once inside he sped off, rattling off my schedule for the day.

"Had to make some adjustments to the script, and the shooting order is all fucked." He tossed me a revised schedule and script.

"So much for the Christmas magic making the shoot go smoother."

"Anything but," he said with a harsh laugh. "So many delays, cancellations, and no-shows due to the holidays. This gimmick better pay off." He looked over his shoulder before careening around a corner. "I'm Jason Garza, by the way. Second unit director. Given all the dropouts and cancellations because of the holiday, I'm filling in as chauffeur and talent-wrangler for today."

"Nice to meet you. Sorry again, by the way."

"Everyone else has found a way to fuck something up, so it's just your turn. Can't say the director will be pleased if it happens tomorrow, though."

It wouldn't. Not only would I set a dozen alarms on my phone tomorrow, I'd set one using that snow-globe clock that had been on the nightstand.

"Speaking of the director," Jason continued. "Not sure if your agent warned you: Drew Hammond is a bit of a hardcase. He did some assistant cinematography work on a big superhero movie last year, and it went to his head. Thinks he's big-time, and he's got a short temper."

"Bit unfitting for a movie about Christmas magic, eh?"

"Definitely. But I've seen your tapes and Janice had good things to say about you, so I'm sure you'll be fine."

Frowning, I flipped through the revised schedule and scripts. True to Janice's prediction, the environmentalist themes had been trimmed back a bit. Instead of the corporation planning to tear down the forest to mine all the natural gas, the evil corporation just wanted to tear down the forest to build some sort of chemical plant.

To my relief, a particularly juicy and nasty line about the forests 'standing in the way of progress' had been preserved. Even better, the adjusted schedule meant my first scene to be shot was one of the more notable ones, where Valentina Steel put the lead character on the stand as part of a trial to decide the fate of the town.

It was one of my meatier scenes, and I was glad I'd be able to dive right in. Then I could relax the rest of the week while I filled out my days with smaller, easier scenes to complete Valentina's role within the story. A couple of those would be fun, including one where I got to play Valentina as a dog-hating snob who turned her nose up at a display of puppies for adoption, and another where I would get to pelt some locals with snowballs.

I mouthed the lines to myself as we drove, and Jason brought us to a halt in front of a two-story brick building that I soon realized was an actual courthouse. Dozens of staff scurried about outside, setting up cameras and lighting rigs for exterior shots.

Too rushed to introduce myself to anyone, I jogged around the side of the building with Jason, and he ushered me into the well-heated makeup trailer.

Inside, they cleaned me up, worked the frizzle out of my long black hair, and pulled it back into a tight bun that made me look every inch the cold-blooded lawyer. I preened a bit as I examined myself in the mirror, finding that the uptight hairdo actually accentuated my cheekbones a bit. Not bad...I'd have to try it out myself sometime for the next pic I took for my dating profile.

Next came the outfit: a sleek, form-fitting black business suit that contrasted nicely with my fair skin. Rather than heels or sensible shoes, they instead gave me a pair of high black boots that I also found quite fetching, making me wonder how much of the wardrobe I could take home with me.

After the frantic, precise application of makeup, Jason returned and whisked me away through a backdoor into the courthouse.

He showed me into a proper courtroom, already packed with the extras playing the parts of the jury and the anxious townsfolk. A stately old man played the judge, and at the table sat the handsome, blonde leading man.

Chris Harper was playing Garret Armisen, an attorney with a heart of gold trying to escape the corporate grind. On my way to the airport I'd looked up his other work: the guy had been in at least six of these movies, and had also starred in a string of direct-to-streaming flicks about a ghost-hunting preacher. All silly stuff, but nothing I could really judge him for.

I took my seat at the table next to him, and he offered me a warm grin. Around us, the staff continued to set up for the shoot, with makeup artists moving between the extras to make final adjustments.

"Hey, co-counsel. Nice of you to join us."

"Sorry, sorry. Rough night."

"Partying with the locals?"

"I wish," I said, chuckling under my breath. "I'm Ariane."

"Chris."

"I know, I checked the sheet. Seems like you're a seasoned hand at this."

"Not the most glamorous work, but it pays the bills. Do well here, and maybe you can get a string of good, easy gigs like this, too. My buddy is producing another one starting in a few weeks, and I think they're still looking for someone to play the hot mom. Could put in a good word for you."

My eyes widened, and I wanted to stomp my fancy boot-heel upon his toe beneath the table.

"A hot mom?" I hissed. "I'm twenty-nine for Christ's sake. What about me gives you 'mom' vibes, exactly?"

"Sorry, sorry," he said, raising his hands. "It's the casting directors, Ariane. They've got thirty-year-olds playing sixteen-year-olds and forty-year-olds playing sixty-year-olds. And there's a sort of sequence to these things, over time. Somebody has a smaller supporting role one year, like a cutthroat lawyer or a friendly baker, then the next year they get upgraded to 'cool friend' or 'hot family member.' And eventually lead." He flashed her a winning smile, which eased my irritation, but only a little. "That's what happened to me. My first year I was the jerk ex-fiancé, then the gay best friend for the next movie, and then I got the lead in

A Harp for the Holidays

. Gay best friend was the best one though. Those parts always get the funniest lines."

I relaxed a little, believing that the comment had been more about the state of the industry rather than my age or appearance.

"Right," I said. "Sorry for snapping like that."

"It's cool. Rough night, right? And it's always tough adjusting to a new gig."

"Yeah," I muttered, and fell silent as an assistant approached with my props: a briefcase and a pile of folders. As I waited for the others to take their places, I skimmed over the script and summary yet again.

This particular scene took place about halfway through the movie, and involved my character leading a lawsuit against the town of Wagner's Grove, to force them into selling valuable forests to Valentina's client. Emilia Harrington, the film's bright-eyed heroine, had been called to the stand to testify about the ecological importance of the forest, and it was Valentina's job to grill her and break her down. From a legal standpoint, the scene made little sense, and would have been laughable to anyone with a remote knowledge of the law, but it did suit the movie's overall arc.

"Where's Eve?" the director called.

Drew Hammond was a short, middle-aged man wearing an old-fashioned suit, with a tie covered with portraits of Oscar-winning directors. It was enough to almost make me roll my eyes, but I kept myself on my best behavior, and focused on settling my nerves to get into character.

"On her way," Jason said. "Breaker tripped at the bakery and screwed the lighting up for the scene so they had to redo the last few shots."

Right. Eve Carpenter: the actress who'd snagged the lead role. I hadn't done too much research on her, but I knew she was Australian, and had mostly done work in police procedurals before moving on to American dramas. I half-remembered an entry on her filmography page about a notable role in a big-budget fantasy series that had gotten canned at the end of production. At least I wasn't the only one with bad career luck, though on the whole she was doing better than I was.