Work Text:
Nancy Loomis really lets Mickey have it the second he picks up the phone.
“Why haven’t you been answering all day?”
“My friends wanted to go see the Empire Strikes Back special edition. That’s not something you turn down!”
Mickey says it like it’s just a joke, like he’s just keeping up appearances. It’s the truth, though. The first time he’d seen that movie as a little kid, he had been amazed at how it had taken all the plot threads from the previous movie and made something even better out of them. For weeks it had been all he wanted to talk about. He might still be chasing that high, if he’s honest with himself.
Nancy is quiet on the other end of the phone for a lot longer than she tends to be.
“My husband and I saw that one in theaters when it first came out,” she says at last. “Everyone gasped when Darth Vader says he’s Luke’s father. I’d never experienced anything like it.”
Mickey considers complaining about all the stupid changes Lucas made in the re-release. It would spoil the mood, and he’s fond of doing that sometimes. It amuses him to think about talking with Nancy like she’s one of the film bros in his classes, though.
“Are you looking forward to the prequel?” he asks.
Another long pause. Then; “No.” Clipped, and decisive.
“That’s fair. Prequels are pointless most of the time. Can you think of a good one?”
Nancy just laughs. “It won’t just be a prequel, Mickey. It will be a tragedy. I’ve had enough tragedy in my real life.”
Then she makes them talk business the rest of the time. Mickey only half-listens to her. He wants to tell her it’s hypocritical to hate tragedies when they’re currently writing one for Windsor College. He doesn’t, though. She might get angry and quit on him, and he wants to see their story through.
*
“You were actually really into that debate, huh?” Cici asks, before taking a sip of her martini. She looks incredibly polished in the middle of this campus dive bar. The Hollywood powers-that be should just go ahead and cast her as James Bond. Complaints about political correctness be damned.
“I really was,” Mickey says, smiling. “Weren’t you?”
They had just gotten out of a class session that had devolved into an argument about the O J Simpson trial (a common occurrence, going on a couple years now.) Mickey had been one of a gaggle of students claiming that it had represented an innovative new step in entertainment. Cici had held her own, claiming that human beings had always loved making spectacles out of high profile crimes. Once it had all wrapped up, she had actually invited him to get a drink, and he had accepted.
“Yes and no. I could see your side for sure.”
“Then why did you like arguing with me so much?”
“Why?” Cici raises an eyebrow. “Why does anyone like anything?”
“Humor me.”
“Well… humans have always been humans, you know? The Victorians didn’t have televisions when Jack the Ripper was doing his thing, but if they had they’d be glued to Court TV. I just think that’s worth remembering.”
“They never caught him.”
Cici huffs out a sound suspiciously similar to an annoyed snort. “You know what I mean.”
“I do. I think you all had a point.”
She raises her glass to him. “Thank you. Would it be so hard to admit defeat the next time we get into it in class?”
Mickey ignores that question. “The O J Simpson trial made for a shitty story anyway.”
That really gets Cici’s attention. “You can't mean that. Weren’t so many people watching the verdict that it crashed the stock market for a few minutes? People were riveted.”
“Okay, okay. It made for a great spectacle, but it’s incomplete. When he got the not guilty verdict it was just… over. We didn’t get anything like the sentencing, or the victim impact statements.” When Sidney had delivered hers at the trial of Cotton Weary, there had been the sense that this was the denouement of the entire trial. (And then it had been picked apart in the Gale Weathers book.)
“So you think they didn’t wring enough pain out of that trial, huh?”
“Pretty much. There’s a reason that the first ever plays were all tragedies.”
“Hm. Point taken.”
Mickey can never decide if he wants to be found not guilty at his own trial. He’s human, he doesn’t want to go to jail. But if that happens he won’t get to hear all the relatives of his victims reading eloquent statements about how much he’d ruined the rest of their lives. He and Nancy are still narrowing down their list of potential victims (the Woodsboro victims had all had pretty common names.) Mickey always argues strongly for people who have close-knit families or a lot of friends.
His conversation with Cici continues on and on, from that point. Eventually they have to pay for their drinks. Mickey’s pen doesn’t work so he waits and watches as Cici signs her receipt first. What he sees leaves him distracted that the pen goes flying over his shoulder when Cici tosses it his way.
“Damn it, sorry Mickey!”
“Your real name is Casey?”
She rolls her eyes. “I don’t think anyone’s birth name is Cici.”
As Mickey picks the pen up off the floor he tries to calculate just how many friends Cici has and who will be most likely to make a statement about her at his trial.
*
Mickey spots Hallie on her own in the dining hall and makes his way over to her. The moment she sees him she does a terrible job of hiding a magazine under a nearby newspaper.
“What’s this?” he says, making a beeline for it and ignoring her protests.
“It’s nothing!”
“You’re right about that.” Somewhat to his disappointment it’s just Entertainment Weekly. The cover is devoted to that upcoming Titanic movie. “You think your future sorority sisters will reject you for being into Leonardo DiCaprio or something?”
“It’s not that, it’s-” Hallie’s eyes dart this way and that, and now Mickey knows he can’t leave until he learns her secret.
“It’s what?”
“I’m excited about the movie itself,” Hallie almost whispers this. “They could cast the ugliest guy ever and I’d still be excited.”
“Okay? Lots of people are.” It’s not really the movie Mickey had wanted Cameron to make next, but whatever.
“When I was a kid I read so many books about the Titanic. I was obsessed. And it looks like they recreated the look of the ship perfectly. I might need to see it alone so I don’t run the risk of, like, squealing in front of all my friends over the staircase being exactly right.”
That makes Mickey laugh, out of camaraderie more than anything else. “I wouldn’t judge that.”
“I’ve been judging myself. The Titanic was a tragedy. It’s weird to be so interested in it.”
“Tell that to the history majors you know. I dare you."
"They're studying it. That's not what I get out of it
"Who cares? The Titanic sank decades ago.”
“There are still survivors around, Mickey.”
“They were babies when it happened. They don’t remember anything about it.”
Hallie looks at him like he’s grown a second head She sighs, rips the magazine from him, and then drops it down on the chair beside her.
“These movies can keep stories like this alive,” he suggests after she stares into space for a little while. “Isn’t there value in that?”
“I would have said yes once, but now… Well, they’re making a movie about what happened to Sidney, you know? Of course you know that.”
“I do.”
“If I were in her shoes I’d probably hate it if my roommate was so excited for a movie about a famous tragedy.”
Mickey really doubts that. Sidney is opinionated and can be a snob. She definitely won’t hate anyone for having a tacky taste in movies. Randy is one of her best friends, after all.
(Truth be told he’s been concerned about Hallie and Sidney for a while. When Sidney isn't with Derek, she is with Hallie or Randy. Those relationships are all too strong for his liking, and he needs Sidney feeling off-kilter when he and Nancy finally put their plan into motion. Isolated people are more prone to making mistakes. Mickey learned that long ago during his years as a freelance killer.)
So he lies.
“Yeah, I get your point. Maybe you should keep this from Sidney.”
Hallie looks a little sad, but recovers well. He still sees her throw the magazine into a recycling bin when she leaves the hall.
*
“I’m telling you,” Randy says, “this stupid Stab movie is going to be forgotten.”
“You’re in denial.” Mickey almost has to shout over the music at this party.
“I’m not. It’s fighting an uphill battle all the way. People already hate that it’s based on real events.”
Randy and Mickey have talked for hours about other movies that rode the tides of outrage and rage all the way to box office success. Sometimes Randy has been almost giddy over how well some studios have used this tactic. There’s something fascinating about how much Randy bends all his rules for the upcoming Stab movie.
“Yeah, because that prevented the Amityville Horror movie from doing well.”
Randy looks like he wants to throw his beer bottle at the wall.
“Oh, right. Like this- this Stab fiasco is going to be another Amityville Horror, give me a fucking break.”
“I’m just saying, people want reality in their horror these days. They don't want cartoon characters chasing sorority girls around anymore.”
“And you think ‘reality’” (Randy actually makes air quotes with his fingers) “is casting Tori Spelling to play Sidney? You’re a terrible friend, you know that?”
Randy is right for the wrong reason. As usual.
“I’m not saying it will be good. I’m just saying it will be popular.”
“I don’t think so. Aren’t you a big documentary guy? If they want to see stuff about a real crime why not watch one of those grimy documentaries with the true crime pictures? Why go half-assed and watch a stupid Hollywood recreation of something that happened?”
“Because people don’t actually want reality. They just want to feel like they did something slightly wrong and got away with it.”
That seems to catch Randy in his tracks. For just a moment.
Then he catches himself. He reaches for another beer, and fumbles to open it.
“Look, it’ll need the best frickin script in the world to succeed and it won’t have that. Word of mouth will be bad and it’ll fade away.”
Mickey has already seen the script. It’s leaked on some of the more illicit forums he likes to surf around on. Like Randy he doesn’t have much faith in the cast, but he did like the screenplay. It was witty and surprising. It was just surface-level smart enough to make the audience feel incredible when they got it. They would return again and again just to feel like they were in the know.
Randy probably doesn’t venture into those corners of the internet. His playground is many strata above that, in the Ain’t It Cool News or Fangoria side of things. He’s probably heard rumors that the Stab script is out there, but he’s not quite savvy enough to find it.
Mickey is incredibly drunk when he returns to his dorm room. He goes to a forum he knows Randy likes to frequent and posts the script there. He then watches the chaos unfold online well after dawn. For every one person who vows to never see this abomination of the movie, there are ten who tentatively admit that the spoilers have made them much more curious than they had been.
And when he meets some of his friends for breakfast, Randy is much quieter than usual.
*
“I’m sure she’ll love it,” Mickey says.
“I’m not really much of a singer.” Bless his heart… Derek looks so skeptical.
“That’s not really the point.”
No, it really isn’t. Just a few weeks ago during a study session, Hallie and Sidney had gotten distracted by an argument over some romcom (probably staring Sandra Bullock.) There had been a public proposal in it, and Hallie said it had made her cry from happiness. Sidney had argued that public proposals were unfair. That they just put the woman on the spot.
Mickey knows he can’t convince Derek to propose to Sidney, but he can encourage the next best thing.
(Musicals are one of the only types of movies Mickey has never been able to appreciate.)
But when Derek really does start to sing to Sidney in front of everyone… everything goes awry. Sidney is embarrassed, but not annoyed. if anything she looks bashfully delighted. At first Mickey is furious with the two of them. He’s furious with himself for miscalculating so badly.
That feeling disappears pretty quickly, though, and he’s so happy to be capturing this on his camera.
Mickey loves a good plot twist.