Gunfire

After Vera Cecil left the office, Irene picked up the form and studied it carefully.

She had to admit, the work was thorough. The analysis of each character was spot-on, and for each one, it listed not only the actor's recent roles but also their fee—clear and straightforward.

She called Vera back into the office.

"Who do you think would be a better fit to play Regina George?"

Irene understood better than anyone the potential of this film, which made her even more conflicted about casting.

The two most important roles were the female lead, Cady Heron, who had already been cast with Reese Witherspoon. Her acting in Legally Blonde spoke for itself. She had audience appeal and a likable look, so landing the role shouldn't be a problem.

That was also the main reason Irene hadn't turned down CAA. If they tried to force an actress who was completely wrong for the lead into the film, she wouldn't risk its failure by agreeing.

The other role was the "Queen Bee," Regina George.

Regina George was every bit as important as the lead in the film. In fact, choosing the wrong actress could cost tens of millions of dollars.

In her previous life, the role had been played by Rachel McAdams. She was the right age for it now, but she was completely unknown.

Rachel hadn't yet honed her skills in other films, and Irene didn't dare entrust such an important role to a complete newcomer. Even if she agreed, CAA and Fox wouldn't, so they had to consider someone else.

Among the actresses auditioning for Regina was Sarah Michelle Gellar, the star of the TV series Buffy the Vampire Slayer. She was immensely popular and influential among the target audience, with a wholesome image and a hint of edge.

Christina Ricci had appeared in popular films like The Addams Family, Casper, and The Ice Storm. She was trying hard to reinvent herself and was known for her acting chops.

Brittany Murphy had made a name for herself in Clueless and was apparently acting opposite Angelina Jolie lately. Her acting should be good, though she was slightly prettier than the other two.

They would ultimately make their choice based on tomorrow's auditions, but for now, Irene wanted to hear Vera Cecil's opinion as an outsider.

"Boss...I'm not sure I should say," Vera said hesitantly.

"It's fine. It's just the two of us here. Say whatever you think."

"Just going by instinct, none of these actresses feels quite right for the Queen Bee in your script."

Irene blinked rapidly. The answer surprised her, yet it also struck a chord.

Perhaps she had already decided that Rachel McAdams was the perfect Queen Bee, and written the script entirely around her interpretation.

So when she looked at the other actresses, something always seemed to be missing.

"You're right. I feel the same way. Go call Shelly and tell her I need more beautiful girls to play my Queen Bee."

"Sure thing, boss." Vera left the office, and Irene didn't dwell on it. With so many beautiful actresses in Hollywood, she refused to believe she couldn't find the one she wanted.

Night fell. Irene took a cab back to her apartment in Burbank. She had rented it while shooting Britney's music video, and it had since become a temporary place to stay when she traveled back and forth to Napa Valley.

The bathtub was full. She had just picked up her bath sponge when a burst of shouting erupted outside, followed by a heavy thud against the wall.

Her hand jerked, and the sponge dropped onto the bathroom floor with a slap, rolling to a stop beside the toilet.

"Damn it..." she muttered, bending to pick it up. Before her fingertips could reach it, Bang! Bang! Gunshots suddenly rang out outside.

Her body reacted on instinct. She ducked sharply, then rolled diagonally to the side and curled up beneath the window.

Screams erupted outside. Amid the chaos, she clearly heard a bullet punch through the outer wall, plaster dust pattering down. The sound was so clear it seemed to come from right beside her ear.

Realizing this might be more than an ordinary neighborhood dispute—that her life could be in danger—she crouched and shuffled into the living room. She fumbled in her bag for her cell phone and hurriedly called the police.

After hanging up, she went to the front door to make sure it was locked, then followed the police dispatcher's instructions and returned to the upstairs bedroom to wait quietly for the chaos outside to die down.

In the darkness, her mind went blank. She felt relieved to have made it through unscathed, but also strangely excited, as if a faint electric current were racing through her nerves.

She had always known that crime rates in this country weren't great. Still, her rented apartment was in one of the nicer parts of town, so she had never imagined that a movie-like shooting could happen right outside her door. She had no idea what was going on outside.

Her curiosity overwhelmed her better judgment. She quietly got up, went to the window, and pulled the curtains open just a little to take a look.

The gunfire below had stopped. She couldn't tell if anyone had been hurt, but she could see someone stumbling out of the house next door.

She hadn't spent much time at the apartment lately, but she vaguely remembered that some students lived next door. There were two universities nearby. Which university had students reckless enough to do this?

She watched quietly from the second floor. She saw no suspicious gunmen, and the outside gradually grew quiet again. A few bold neighbors even came out to see what was happening.

Sirens suddenly rang out in the still night in Burbank. A uniformed officer spoke briefly to her outside the apartment building. "The suspects have been taken into custody. Our initial assessment is that a few young people, drunk and worked up, caused a disturbance with a firearm. A stray bullet hit your home. We'll need to investigate further to determine the details, but the threat has been dealt with for now."

Irene thanked him, then watched the police roughly shove several handcuffed figures, still cursing and grumbling, into the back of a patrol car.

The sudden chaos seemed to have been packed up and hauled away just like that, leaving a clear bullet hole in her wall. She only hoped the landlord wouldn't give her trouble tomorrow.

With everything quiet again, she headed for the door, wanting to breathe in some ordinary air now that she was safe.

Beside the patrol car, a slender figure stood with her back to Irene, giving a statement.

She wore simple jeans and a T-shirt, but they couldn't hide her graceful figure or the elegant lines of her shoulders and neck. She had to be beautiful.

It was only natural to wonder what a beautiful woman looked like from the front. So Irene stood in the doorway, waiting for her to turn around and reveal her face.

The officer taking the statement turned and walked away. The woman breathed a sigh of relief, then turned around.

The streetlight above her was like a spotlight on a stage, shining precisely down on her head and making her delicate features seem even more flawless.

Her face was youthful, almost so fresh you could pinch water from it. She wore no makeup, and her clear eyes held the innocence of someone just out of school, along with the unease of someone who had just lived through a commotion.

It was Rachel McAdams, the woman Irene had spent all day agonizing over.