The Actress

Please note that the characters in this story are fictional. "Marnie Schuppner/Scott" aka "the actress" is not a real person and has not appeared in any of the film/movie roles referenced.

Prologue

It started on a Friday in early October, 2024. I was making a rare appearance in my office building in a suburb of St. Paul, Minnesota. Much of the company switched to working from home a few years earlier, but I forced myself to spend a day in the building at the start of each quarter. It was motivation to complete my quarterly reporting for the board of directors as quickly as possible so that I could return to the comfort of my home. I started early, around 6AM, and was usually done around 1 or 2 in the afternoon.

I work for TDN, a leading provider of professional services for the middle market, with industry-focused solutions and global insights. That's what our public facing website says, at least. Some days I'm not sure what I accomplish, if anything, other than get one day closer to retirement.

Anyway, it was Friday morning, no other cars in the parking lot when I arrived at 6:00. I made my way to an empty corner office on the 4th floor with a nice view. The best part of working on site, by far, is the view. The office is right along the Mississippi River, and it isn't uncommon to see deer or wild turkeys in the field behind the building, or to see eagles swoop past the windows, nearly scraping their talons along the glass. The worst part, aside from the work itself, is the aging building. It's been in use since the late 60s and still includes ceiling panels stained from cigarette smoke. Every few years the company promises upgrades, but they are still pending. I hear that the C Suite on the 5th floor is nice, though.

I plugged in my laptop, put in my airpods, and got to work. I ignored all incoming messages, and only took one or two bathroom breaks, never seeing or hearing any other person on the 4th floor. By 1:00 my work was done and I was getting hungry. All files saved, emails sent, I shut down my laptop, stashed it and some other files in my messenger bag, put on my jacket, and headed for the stairs, debating where I should stop for lunch.

At the top of the stairs, I had a view overlooking the lobby of the building and the parking lot. To my surprise, the parking lot was half full, with a few large trailers parked on the curb right outside the door. The lobby was buzzing with people; there were a bunch of wheeled storage crates, the kinds bands used to move gear, lined up along the hall. Lights and cameras were being moved into place, pointing into an area of cubicles on the first floor just beyond the lobby. Puzzled, I started walking down the steps. Was the company filming a commercial? I don't recall us ever advertising before. (I barely knew what we did and I'd been here nearly two decades; how could a 30-second commercial explain it?)

By the time I made it to the landing between floors 1 and 2, with a full view of all the commotion below during my descent, I had started attracting attention from others in the lobby. My confused expression contrasted with a panicked look from anyone I made eye contact with. Finally I heard a voice boom "Get that extra off the stairs! What's he doing? He's not even in costume! Someone get him out!"

I quickened my pace and made it to the lobby floor where I was met by a young woman in a headset. She took my arm and steered me to the front door.

"I'm sorry, I don't know what's going on. I was just working upstairs and now I'm leaving."

Her grip tightened. "The building was supposed to be empty. We're filming today. We rented the office for three days. You've gotta get out of here."

"Absolutely... yes... I'm sorry, I must have missed an email or something..." Truth was I had stopped reading most corporate announcements sent via email a few years ago. At least, stopped reading anything except the subject line. If there was one that said "Stay out of the Building Oct 4-6" I assume I would have paid attention.

As I neared the door, I saw through the window a similarly geared-up and panic-stricken young man leading a woman from one of the trailers into the building. She was costumed in 80's working girl garb, her red curls teased out larger than what was presently stylish. She entered through the outer door just as I passed through the inner door into the vestibule. Our eyes met, and we both did a double take. I knew her. Yes, I'd seen her in other movies and tv shows, but I knew her. We had graduated from high school together more than 24 years earlier, our alma mater still operating an embarrassingly small number of miles from where we were standing. I smiled and she seemed to do the same, though neither of us said anything or even broke stride.

Once outside, I found my car and quickly drove away. I forgot about lunch, and as soon as I arrived home I started up my laptop and checked my email. I went back over the two previous weeks and found three urgent corporate reminders letting everyone know that the office would be off limits for three days, that it had been rented out to a film production company, that filming would be confined to the lobby and first floor only, and who to contact if anyone had issues with damaged or missing items when they returned on Monday. I've really got to start reading those emails...

Act 1

It was the next Monday. I hadn't left home all day. As usual, I woke early, showered, got dressed, brought a cup of coffee into my home office, worked all day, answered emails, sat through conference calls, all the usual stuff. After work I spent some time raking leaves in the backyard, then made dinner for one. After dinner I spent some time on the treadmill in my basement, and now I was on the couch, Monday Night Football quietly playing in the background while I divided my attention between a book about the origins of the Cannonball Run (the car race, not the movie) and whatever YouTube video caught my eye. My phone occasionally beeped with more trash talk from my fantasy football group chat.

The routine was broken by my phone ringing. Unknown number, not a local area code. I answered it anyway.

"Hello?"

"Hi," a female voice. No pause, meaning this likely wasn't a sales call. "Is this Preston?"

"Yes, I'm Preston." Waiting to hear what this call was about, I realized, was the most exciting thing that had happened to me that day.

"Oh, good. This is Marnie. Hopefully you remember me; we kinda bumped into each other on Friday."

I could feel all the blood in my body rush to my face. I felt warm. I sat up on the couch, then stood, not understanding that I was still alone, that she couldn't see me. It was Marnie. The actress. The one I had seen on Friday in the office and hadn't seen (in person at least) prior to that since our high school graduation. Marnie Schuppner, well, Marnie Scott now, according to IMDB at least.

My brain screamed multiple commands, some conflicting, and I did my best to compose myself before responding as cooly as I could manage. "Yes, I thought that was you. Sorry about crashing your movie set."

She laughed. "No worries. The PA's always look that frazzled. It's nice to give them an easy problem to solve so they feel useful." Now it was my turn to chuckle. She immediately continued, "So I'm gonna be in town for the next month, working mostly, but I was wondering if you'd like to meet for a drink."

More panic. More screaming from my brain. Any chance at being cool in response was gone. I didn't want to respond too quickly, but also knew that if I waited too long she'd just start laughing and hang up the phone. After a beat I managed to utter "Yeah, I'd like that."

"Great. I should be free by 8 tomorrow night. Let's meet at the Norse Moose Lodge in St. Paul. If I'm running late I'll text you."

My head was still spinning with the suddenness of the invitation. I sensed that the conversation was over, so didn't press it. "Great, I'll see you then. It'll be good to catch up."

"Yep, see you tomorrow. Bye!"

I set down my phone and started pacing around my living room. I turned off the tv, then turned it back on. I looked out the window into my dark backyard, then wandered into my kitchen, opened the fridge, stared into it, then closed it and walked away. What just happened?!?

It'll be good to catch up? What did that mean? We had probably only ever talked twice in school, and that was probably one of us asking the other to borrow a pencil or to get out of the way. In a class of more than 500 people, we couldn't all be friends.

I wandered into my bedroom, into my closet, considered what I'd wear, for the first time wondered how she'd gotten my phone number. It had been a few months since my last first date. Wait, was this a date? No, no, no... just catching up. She'd be bored with our "catching up" before the first drink was empty. This wasn't a date. Maybe she was just being polite. Maybe she was bored. Maybe it was part of a media strategy - Hollywood A-lister (well, let's be honest, B-lister at best) returns home to film a movie and slums it with high school chum... not that we were ever chums... Damn, I wasn't gonna sleep tonight. Should I take a sick day tomorrow?

I managed to compose myself long enough to make sure doors were locked and lights were off, then brought my phone to bed. I pulled up her IMDB page and started doing my homework. I noticed that she was inaccurately listed as 37 years old, 5 years younger than me. So she was 13 when she graduated? I wonder if her prom date knew that.

I scanned her acting credits, one episode appearances in dozens of tv shows from the past 20 years: CSI, CSI: Miami, Parks and Rec, The Big Bang Theory, Law & Order, Law & Order: SVU, Silicon Valley. She was in one episode of House as a patient diagnosed with MERFF syndrome. She was in one episode of How I Met Your Mother credited as "Redhead at Bar."

Her movie credits were interesting. There was the Ben Affleck political thriller, the college beach sex comedy, the Judd Apatow comedy where she did her only near topless scene (her hair covered her breasts). There was a supporting role in the comedy Auto Pilot, where she played a flight attendant who had to tie up a drunk John Cena using seat belt extenders. There was the Lifetime original Suburban Catwalk where she played one of a group of suburban moms who moonlight as lingerie models. (I caught a few minutes... wasn't as good as it sounds.) And the year before there was her first top billing - Hard Habit, about a nun who sneaks out of the convent at night and pretends to be a hooker, then kills abusive pimps and johns. That one would be destined for cult classic status if only there was more nudity and blood. The quest for a PG-13 rating killed it. Online consensus was that it deserved a director's cut.

I put away my phone and stared at the dark ceiling above my bed. I considered my own boring life. What the hell were we gonna talk about?!?

I eventually fell asleep, then sailed through work the next day with as little effort as possible. I never turned on my webcam and even rescheduled a few calls for which I lacked the mental energy. When the time came, I got dressed in jeans, a casual buttondown, and a blazer. The drive to the bar took less than 10 minutes. It was in the downtown area of St. Paul, adjacent to a few decent hotels and a bunch of other bars and restaurants.

Despite it's name, the Norse Moose Lodge was actually a pretty nice place. Not log cabin-y and beer soaked, like the name might imply. They had a great cocktail and wine selection, and the design was modern and clean. There was no sign of her red curls when I arrived; no surprise - I was still half certain that she was gonna no show me or that this was all part of a prank. I got a table in the corner where she could still see me from the door, but where it would be quieter, more private. As could be expected, they weren't especially busy on a Tuesday night. The waitress immediately came for my order, and I settled on an old fashioned.

I checked my phone to pass the time, and a few minutes after 8 she magically appeared tableside.

"Oh, good, you're here," she said by way of introduction, then sat in the chair across from me. I put my phone back into my pocket and stared at her with a silly, stupid grin on my face. She was wearing a long tweed skirt and white blouse, with a green corduroy jacket. Her red curls were loose and one tress of hair hung over her face. Our eyes locked in on each other, and her smile matched mine.

The waitress arrived then and took Marnie's drink order, interrupting the awkward silence. She ordered a vodka tonic, and after the waitress left I said the first thing that came to my mind. "You look exactly the same." She chuckled and looked away, then reached up and swiped the lock of hair behind her ear. "No, I mean it..." I gestured toward her, making it clear that I was referring to the whole package, "It's like you haven't aged at all." She really hadn't. She still had the same petite, toned body (at least what I could see), the same smooth, clear skin. Her hair was still the same bright red, no sign of graying. Even with her just sitting in a chair I could feel waves of energy coming off her, drawing all of my attention to her. Maybe this was a trick all good actors knew, or an inherent ability that pushed someone into acting.

"Well, thanks. But I'd say the same about you. When I saw you in the office the other day, it was like immediate recall; like, your name just came into my brain along with all of these memories." I was momentarily puzzled. What memories? We hardly knew each other. "I do like you with the glasses though, they give you a distinguished look. You should have worn those in school."

"I could actually see then." She was being kind. I was at least 15 or 20 pounds heavier now than I was then, my hair wasn't turning gray yet but was thinner (much better styled, but thinner). Maybe I dressed better now, but it'd be weird if I was still wearing Weezer tshirts and cargo shorts every day.

I tried to change the subject. "I'm really curious about this movie you're filming in my office. Is it set in the 80's or is your character just a really bad dresser?"

"Oh, yeah," she looked away, as if she were embarrassed about it. "It's a Blumhouse original, a psychological horror movie set to be released next October along with 50 other psychological horror movies."

"What's it about?"

The waitress arrived and slid the drink in front of Marnie. She said thanks then took a sip before answering me.

"So, have you heard about the McMartin Preschool thing from the 80's? It was a preschool in California that got caught up in the satanic panic, people being accused of abusing children, sacrificing kids to Satan, that kind of stuff? Well, this movie is kind of a fictionalized version of that, except that it is all real, not a panic. And I play the intrepid reporter who goes undercover to expose everything, only I get in way too deep. It's titled Rosemary's Babysitter, lawsuit pending."

She took another sip. "Your office is being used for all of the newspaper office scenes. We got all of those filmed over the weekend. Now we'll be filming all around the area for the next month or so. Thursday and Friday night we'll be filming a coven of extras dancing naked around a bonfire while I watch from the trees."

While she was talking I took a few more big sips from my glass. The sweet booze gave me just enough courage to respond "So you - your character - is just watcing?" My eyebrows raised along with my voice at the end of the question.

She lowered her chin and gazed at me seductively. "I assure you, you do not want to see me... dancing." Message received. We let that shared understanding linger while we both bent our elbows.

"So, tell me about your job. I haven't heard of that company. What do you do?"

Ah, that dreaded question that derailed most of my social interactions. I took another sip. "The company does a lot of business to business work, consultation, project management, software implementation, that type of stuff. Honestly it's all really boring. I'm pretty much just on auto pilot. It's what I do to pay the bills, that's all..."

She had a pained look on her face. "So all that talk in school about doing what you love... never sunk in with you?"

"I guess what I loved was never having to worry about unemployment or how I was going to pay my bills. Ugh, let's change the subject... too depressing."

"After school I always assumed that I'd eventually run into you in L.A., working in the industry, I mean."

"Well, you kind of did..."

"Well, yeah, but you know, as a career. I didn't envision 'boring office job' for your future."

Uh oh, did she have me confused with someone else? I wasn't one of her theater kid friends. This was about to get awkward. Before I could give her the bad news, she continued.

"After the One Act Show, senior year, you just seemed to be on another level. Your play is still better than half of the scripts I see now."

Ah, yes. Now I remembered... That's how she knew me. My senior year, spring trimester, I already had all the credits I needed for graduation, but still showed up a few hours a day to pass the time. I rolled into school about 10 AM for an economics class, then lunch with friends, then a creative writing class, for fun and an easy A, and then I rolled out. For the creative writing class, I wrote a short play for an assignment, and my teacher liked it enough to send it over to the theater teacher for submission in their annual student script contest. Students submitted short plays, and two winners were picked to be performed one night only. Mine was picked and performed.

I had honestly forgotten about it, as it was really just a class assignment for me, and there wasn't a prize or scholarship or anything that went with it. I didn't even go to the performance, although a friend told me that mine got the most applause. Aided, I'm sure, by Marnie Schuppner, the star of the theater department, choosing to star in my play, even though it required her to go blonde temporarily. I did spend one afternoon with the student actors, talking about the script, talking about how I imagined the stage would be set up. I was a total amateur though, and I assumed they were rolling their eyes and laughing at me behind my back. I thought back; of course Marnie was there, and we did talk, talked a lot actually. That must be how she remembered me.

My expression must have given me away, as she gave me a puzzled look. So I confessed. "Gotta be honest, I had really forgotten about that play. Writing was never really my thing. That was kind of a one off, you know? After graduation I went to college, majored in business, got my MBA. The only creative writing I've done since then was my wedding vows." I made sure my empty hand was visible when I said this, and noted that her ring finger was also bare.

She laughed then cocked her head sideways and looked deep into my eyes. "It's still in there. It doesn't leave. You'll see."

There was a moment of silence as she let that sink in. Then she got to the other reason for her invitation. "I, uh, have something I want to talk to you about, in case you were wondering why I reached out to you." As she said this, she dipped a hand into her purse and took out a bundle of folded papers, which she set on the table, out of my reach.

"If you're gonna ask me for my autograph, this is gonna get even more awkward," I said. She laughed again.

"Like I said earlier, when I saw you on Friday, your name immediately popped into my brain. And, I thought about how I'd completely lost track of you, not hearing any updates through the usual gossip pipeline. Apparently most of the people from our teens have also lost track of you."