Preview of Spotlight

Out September 18th!

Chapter 1 That All You Got, Dyke? 

Kiki heard the clap signaling ten seconds left in the round. Her outer left thigh pulsed with the roars of the crowd. She wasn’t sure how many more kicks she could take to it. They were still in the first round. 

Finally, the horn sounded and she walked back to her corner, trying not to limp. She sat heavily down on the stool. “Kiki, she’s chopping away at you because she ain’t got nothing else. Jab and angle out. You’ve got her on reach.” 

Kiki knew Cade was right. But she was so afraid of those fucking kicks. Beth Stroud may not have the striking power Kiki had, but she was evening the fight with those kicks.

Joaquim, her ground coach, shook his head. “Fuckin’ a, Cade. She needs to shoot on her. Take her ass down and pound the shit out of her.” 

Cade shot him a murderous glare. Kiki took a swig of water and waited for the two to get on the same page. Cade swung his eyes back to Kiki. “Switch to southpaw stance, punish her with the jab. Tight, fast combos. End her with a cross.” 

The bell rang and Kiki sprung off her stool, instantly regretting it when she put too much weight on her left leg. 

Joaquim clapped her on the back. “Send her back to her desk job, Kiki.” 

“Fuck yeah,” she grunted and moved to the center, taking control. She threw her left out, connecting solidly with a jab to Beth’s nose, bloodying it. Stroud smiled, showing the Union Jack flag on her mouthguard. “That all ya got, dyke?” 

There was a time that word would have sent her into a rage. The intended insult didn’t even faze her anymore. Kiki watched for Beth’s back foot to pivot, signaling a kick. That’s right. Open up, bitch.

Kiki waited until she committed to the kick, then stepped offline and delivered a devastating hook. Stroud buckled, losing her balance. She fell against the cage and Kiki was on her with quick combos.

“That’s it, Kiki!” she heard Cade shout. Beth had her chin buried into her chest, gloves around her head, trying to protect it. Kiki heard her gasping for breath, mouth wide open. She knew she’d broken her nose. 

A desperate knee to Kiki’s gut backed her off, but not for long. Kiki loaded a right cross that would surely end the fight. But it never got there. Beth executed a front kick straight into Kiki’s left knee just as she transferred her weight onto it. 

There was an explosion of pain and Kiki crumpled to the ground. She covered her face with her arm as Beth quickly mounted her and began raining down punches to the side of her head. She didn’t even feel them. All she could focus on was the ferocious pain in her knee.

There was commotion above her and then the blows stopped. She buried her face in the canvas, willing the tears not to come. But they did. Cade was in her field of vision and then Joachim. Their grim faces confirmed what she already knew. She’d lost the fight. The one that would have catapulted her into an actual multi-fight contract. 

She didn’t remember the ambulance ride, but she was very coherent for the X-rays and MRI. She laid there, deathly still, trying to ignore the loud jackhammering sound as the machine took images of her knee. 

As she was being wheeled back to her room, her mind replayed the fight. She’d been a heavy favorite. Her superior striking and ground game should have overwhelmed the Brit with the Muay Thai background. But Beth’s corner had been smart. They figured out her weak spot and took full advantage. 

Kiki picked at a frayed edge of her hospital gown as her coaches took turns pointing out what she did well in the fight and what she should take away from the loss. “You learn more from getting beat than you do from winning, Kiki,” Joaquim said as he patted her shoulder. 

“Gonna have a long fucking time to figure out that lesson, aren’t I?” She crossed her arms over her chest and dropped her head back onto the paper-covered pillow. “Can one of you go find out what’s taking so fucking long? Or how about both of you, huh?” 

She wanted to be alone. She didn’t need any fucking pep talks while she waited to see how long she was going to be out. 

Joaquim opened his mouth, but Cade shook his head subtly and stood. “Let’s go, Keem.” 

Five years. She’d been working her ass off, taking any fight she could for five fucking years. This was her chance and she’d blown it. If she couldn’t fight… She closed her eyes and took in a deep breath, held it for a few seconds, then let it out slowly through her nose. No, she couldn’t think about that.

The curtain in front of her was slowly pulled back and a woman with red hair in a sloppy bun walked to her gurney and gave her a warm smile. “Hi Ms. Marshall, I’m Dr. Cove.” She reached out her hand and Kiki took it. 

“Please, call me Kiki,” she said with a polite smile. Dr. Cove was attractive and looked younger than Kiki’s twenty-seven years. Maybe the pink Hello Kitty scrubs under her lab coat had something to do with that. 

“Kiki,” she said, her smile a bit brighter. But it fell as she pulled a tablet from her arm and turned it for Kiki to see. “I’m afraid it isn’t good news.” She waited a beat before continuing. “Here’s your knee.” She pointed to a spot in the middle of the screen. “Normally, there’s a dark gray band here, but as you can see, there’s a void. That signals a complete tear of your anterior cruciate ligament.” 

Kiki nodded as she looked up into the doctor’s sympathetic eyes. Just then, Cade and Joaquim slipped through the curtain and took seats on the other side of her gurney. “Torn ACL,” Kiki said as her fingers gripped the rough sheets under her. 

“Fuck,” Joaquim muttered under his breath. 

The doctor’s eyes flicked over at him and a shadow of disapproval flashed across her face before she looked back at Kiki.   

“Are you an athlete?” she asked. 

“She had her first regional title fight tonight,” Cade answered quickly, his expression like that of a proud father. 

Dr. Cove nodded, offering Kiki a supportive smile. “Well, we’ve got the best orthopedic surgeons in the world here in LA,” she said as she patted Kiki’s shin. “I’ll get your discharge papers ready and give you a list of those surgeons as well.” 

“Thank you, Dr. Cove,” Kiki said and held out her hand. The doctor shook it. 

“Wish it was better news. Good luck, Kiki.” 

The curtain swayed closed behind her and Kiki turned away from her coaches as tears gathered in her eyes. She suspected she’d torn her ACL, but hearing it confirmed made her heart drop into her stomach. If she couldn’t fight…she had no idea who she was.

Chapter 2 Consensus

Shawn Lake gathered her long honey-colored hair and draped it over her shoulder. “How many more of these do we have today?” She recrossed her legs, trying to keep them from going numb in the uncomfortable chairs. 

“You asking me?” Brett Sattler, her co-star, asked absently as he popped a mint into his mouth. 

“It was rhetorical, I suppose.” Shawn sighed as she watched a slight woman with dark brown hair, chunky glasses, and ramrod-straight posture walk toward them. “Patrice Connor from Traditional in a Modern World. Of course,” she murmured.  

Brett looked up and grinned brightly. “Patrice! How are you?” 

The woman nearly stumbled as she approached. “Mr. Sattler, you remember me?” 

“Of course! I loved your review of my last movie. Pretty sure it helped me to get that Vanguard of Values Award nomination. And please, call me Brett.”

She put a hand to her chest as she sat in the chair opposite theirs. “Oh my goodness! I was just being honest, Brett. Your portrayal of Father Kennedy was transformative!” A blush crept up her neck and spread to her cheeks. She stared at Brett for another few seconds before finally turning her attention to Shawn. “Ms. Lake, it’s nice to see you again,” she said, her tone cool but professional. 

“Nice to see you too, Patrice,” Shawn said, pointedly not following Brett’s lead to use her first name. 

Shawn’s eyes flashed to Mikie, her publicist, who was leaning against the far wall, scrolling through her phone with a scowl. She wondered what that was about before pasting on her camera-ready smile. Paul, the studio publicist, nodded from the doorway, indicating they were rolling.

Patrice cleared her throat and looked between Shawn and Brett. “Lucky in Love isn’t your typical romantic comedy. There’s some dark themes in the film that your characters have to deal with while also finding the time to fall in love.” 

Shawn chuckled lightly and looked at Brett, who sat back in his chair with a nothing-behind-the-eyes smile. “Yes, a lot happens,” she responded when she realized Brett wasn’t going to. Patrice grinned weakly and looked at Brett.

“Brett, Lucky in Love is quite a departure from Falling into Grace. You’re going from an inspirational biopic to a dark romantic comedy. How different was your approach to the vastly different role you play in this one?” 

Brett cocked his eyebrow and ran his hand over his week-old stubble for effect. “Well, the scripts were really different, you know? So, I just went off the vibes of each character,” he said, giving Patrice a charming grin. 

Shawn turned toward him, smiling like his answer made complete sense. Patrice’s eyes closed and she nodded slowly as if he’d just imparted some great craft wisdom. Her eyes popped back open and she looked at Shawn. 

“Shawn, you play Brett’s love interest in the movie. Was it challenging for you, knowing you’re…uh…um—”

Here it comes. “Knowing I’m a lesbian?” Shawn cut her off, her outward expression effusing polite amusement. Out of the corner of her eye she saw Mikie lower her phone, eyes wide. 

Patrice looked down at her notepad and then back up at Shawn. “Yes. Some early reactions have called into question the chemistry between you two and if the audience will buy that you are actually in love.” There was a glint in her eye, the barest of satisfied smiles. 

Mikie and Paul were standing right outside of camera view now, both with their arms crossed. The room was deathly quiet. Shawn brought her hands together on her lap and leaned forward slightly.

“Both Brett and I approached our characters with honesty and commitment. Actors work hard to ensure audiences connect with characters on the screen. Also, love looks different to everyone.” 

“Okay, that’s time. Thank you,” Paul said as he motioned for Patrice to stand and hand him the mic. 

Patrice looked up at him, seemingly ready to protest when Mikie swept in, casually asking, “Brett, Shawn, ready for that break?” 

Brett jumped out of his chair. “I got dibs on the peanut M&Ms,” he said as he nearly ran to the green room. 

Shawn was left with a visibly shocked Patrice. “Thanks for your time,” she said awkwardly before turning to follow Mikie to the green room, dazed. 

Mikie pushed the door open and went straight for the craft table. “Should have known she’d pull that shit,” she said as she grabbed a carrot and took a bite. “Fucking Clay,” she mumbled around carrot bits, staring daggers at Brett’s publicist. He looked at her, doe-eyed and shrugged then went back to picking at the deli tray.

“What she said about the early reactions, though. Is that true?” 

Shawn loved her rail-thin, chain-smoking, highly-caffeinated, no-shit-taking publicist. She’d brought her on right after she’d come out and Mikie always gave it to her straight, no pun intended. 

Mikie sighed. “It’s only a handful of reviewers, but yeah, there’s a consensus developing.”

“What are they saying, exactly?” Shawn asked. 

“That there’s not much chemistry between you two,” she said as she sat down next to Shawn. 

“And it’s my fault?” Shawn shook her head. “Of course it’s my fault.” This was her first big role since coming out and she had so much riding on this performance. 

“Hey, the woman always gets the blame. And the script didn’t do you any favors. We talked about that,” Mikie reminded her. The biggest reason Shawn had taken the role was to be opposite Brett, who was one of the hottest stars in Hollywood at the moment. 

“I know… But fuck, Mikie,” Shawn said as she looked up at the hotel room ceiling and took a deep breath, trying to stave off tears. 

Paul popped his head into the greenroom. “Sarah from Variety is up.”