1. Violet

1

VIOLET

When I see the manilla envelope on the top step of my trailer, my heart starts racing, and my hand trembles. How are they getting this close?

I look both ways as I grab the envelope on my way into the trailer. I lock the regular lock and the extra one I had security place two months ago when the first letter showed up on set. Until then I had just been receiving the odd email or random fan mail that crossed a line. At least that's all I've been told about. These letters however are being delivered straight to me and through layers of security that someone shouldn't be able to bypass.

I called the police after the third letter and was told there was nothing they could do. The production I'm working on hired more security, but somehow this guy is getting past them.

I cautiously open the envelope. The paper isn't special, just normal copy paper according to the tests run on the other letters. I've seen all the episodes of criminal shows where the sexy FBI agents come in and save the day after a few letters to the famous popstar or actress, but that isn't how it works in real life, and I'm starting to crack a little under the fear of finding another letter or worse.

I open the letter and start to read as someone turns the handle on my door causing me to scream. I can't live this way anymore.

"It's me." Comes from the other side of the flimsy trailer door.

I rush over to let in my best friend and personal assistant, Zoe. I quickly urge her in, shut the door, and reset the locks, my heart pounding the whole time the door was open, and I was more vulnerable.

"What's happened, Violet?" Zoe asks, concern etched across her face. These letters have been almost as hard on her as they've been on me.

"I got another one." I point to the envelope on the table. "I was just opening it when you scared me by trying to open the door. You know I lock it all the time now."

"I forgot for a second." Zoe reaches over and grabs the letter, reading the words to herself. "It's like the other ones. You're his. You shouldn't be touching or kissing other men, etc., etc."

"I just don't know who could be doing this. I'm not kissing anyone. These lips see no action. Is this about what's happening on set?" I plop down on the couch, with my head in my hands. "I'm so tired of it all. I missed my cues several times today and forgot half my lines. Plus, make-up is having to work extra hard to cover the bags under my eyes."

Zoe puts the letter back in its envelope and pushes it away from us. Looking around the trailer, she rearranges the pillows on the sofa and stacks the scripts that I've been going through to see if they're right for my next project. We've been friends long enough that I know there's something she doesn't want to tell me, and she's doing whatever she can to put it off.

"Zoe, what is it?" I grab her hands and ask.

She sits down next to me on the sofa and turns to face me. "It was decided that I'd be the one to come talk to you about taking a break. Maybe a week or two away from the set and then this guy will have moved on."

"But the schedule is already tight. I don't want everyone to be waiting around because of me."

"They won't be. They're going to shoot everything else and leave your scenes to the end. No one is upset with you, everyone is worried."

Getting away does sound good if the letters don't follow me, but I don't know where I'm supposed to go. In this day of social media, it's hard to get away without being found by someone.

"Where could I go?"

"That's where I come in. I've got the perfect place, and I'll make sure you're protected while you're there just in case."

I agree with Zoe's plan and feel a sense of relief almost immediately. If Zoe says I'll be safe, then I know I will be. She's my ride or die and I trust her with my life. I'm still worried about leaving without finishing the movie, but I can't go on this way. Whoever is leaving these letters is getting onto the lot and that's just too close to risk.