“Welcome aboard.” Cole flashed his dimple at Felicity.
“Thank you,” she said. “I’m here to help, so if there’s anything that any of you need, as long as I’m not busy with something for Stella, I’m happy to assist.”
Taylor laughed. “Careful what you offer on a set. It’s easy to get taken advantage of.”
Felicity smiled. “I’m not worried about that.”
October 11, 2018HorrorFansOnline:Video Interview with Stella Rivers,
star of Blood Bond78 people like this
[Time marker 4:57]
HorrorFans: So you’ve never done horror before. What drew you to the role of Emily?
Stella Rivers: No matter the genre, I always choose roles that speak to me on some level, and I really identified with Emily. It’s not easy when your husband takes up with someone else. It makes you doubt yourself, leaves you feeling defeated, less-than…You start thinking self-destructive thoughts. It can drive you crazy, as it does Emily, and you become someone you don’t even recognize.
HF: It sounds like you have some personal experience with cheating.
SR: You know I don’t talk about my personal life, but I will say it’s something I’m familiar with. Emily’s not the kind of person who sits there and takes it, and that’s something I can really appreciate. I’m like that too. Her anger transforms her. Of course she makes some mistakes along the way, that end up—not to spoil anything—adding to the horror element of the movie—
HF: Good catch. We don’t want to give anything away. This one has a shocking ending you won’t see coming. The raw anger you channeled as Emily was very believable.
SR: Thank you. I really felt like I could feel her pain, and it was cathartic for me. We’ve gone through some of the same things. You know how it is—you get angry and suddenly your anger takes over and maybe you do things you wish you hadn’t. Then it’s over and you look back and realize “Shit, I shouldn’t have done that, and now I’m gonna have to live with it for the rest of my life,” and it can really bring you down, make you crazy.
HF: (laughs) Wow, what are you trying to tell us?
SR: No, it’s just sometimes—you know, sometimes good people do bad things. And bad people do bad things too, of course. And sometimes a bad person or a bad moment can influence a good person to do a bad thing.
HF: Sounds like you need to write a book.
SR: Oh, I am. You know, people look at me and they see all the outside things, the things the tabloids have printed. But they don’t know the real story. And I’ll tell you, it’s not what it seems.
HF: So the famously private Stella Rivers is writing a tell-all memoir?
SR: I’m private because things get filtered and twisted by the press. But in my own words, I want to come clean, as they say, set the record straight.
HF: And when can we expect this explosive book?
SR: You know any good publishers, you send them my way.
HF: I certainly will. It’s been great talking with you. Please come back when you release your book!
Felicity
Thirteen Years Ago
Iris stands in front of the mirror in her panties, painting her eyes black. I like them better plain like when it’s just the two of us hanging out by the pool at the Super 8 next door or whatever, but she tells me I’m wrong. Men like mystery.
It must be true because every night she changes from my mom (which I am not allowed to call her except in my head) into this magical creature: glittering eyes, golden hair like a shampoo commercial, boobs spilling out of her dress, legs all tan and shimmery, balancing with ease on heels I can’t walk two steps in. She’s like a butterfly. Only, one time when I told her that, thinking it was a good thing, she wrinkled her nose and said, “Ew! So I’m, like, normally a caterpillar? Gross.”
But she knows what she’s doing because every night she gets a man. She doesn’t usually bring them to our apartment unless they’re special because I’m here and she doesn’t want them seeing where she lives. But she tells me about them. What they do, what nice clothes they wear, what their fancy apartments look like. She doesn’t tell me what they do with her, but I can guess. I’ve seen the internet. And also there was one time Miss Nina downstairs wasn’t home, and she had to hide me in the bathroom when she brought one home.
Now that I’m ten I get to stay home by myself at night because I’m so responsible. And really I got to do that most of the time when I was nine too, and a little bit at eight. But before that I had to stay with neighbors and friends like Miss Nina or Mrs. Alvarez, who always had like a dozen kids there, so that was really fun.
Staying home alone isn’t so bad though. I get to watch as much TV and whatever movies I want, even if they’re R rated, with sex and cussing and people shooting each other. And I love movies. I think maybe one day I’ll be a movie star. Mom says I won’t be so pudgy when I grow up. It’s just baby fat, she says. And I’ll grow into my big nose, which must be my father’s because it’s sure not hers. At least I have her shiny blond hair and big blue eyes.
I grab one of her lip glosses and paint my mouth with it, making kissy faces in the glass. Suddenly my lips are on fire. “Shit!” I fan my mouth, tears springing to my eyes.
Iris laughs as I flip on the sink and try to get the gunk off. “Lip plumper,” she says when I straighten up and wipe my face on a towel. “That’ll teach ya to ask when you
