2 Broke Girls x 1 Rich Man

AN: Leave some early reviews lol. Yeah, I know, there are only 4 chs. 😅🫡

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Morning sunlight streaming in through the windows of Brightstar Studios cast long shadows upon the highly polished marble floors of the offices. My new working space was light-years from a cramped apartment where I had spent countless restless nights hammering out scripts. This was slick, modern, and buzzing with creative energy-it was all surreal.

Technically, that is when my life as a scriptwriter actually began the moment I signed on. The credits of the Forrest Gump screenplay went directly to me. Vanessa Harper wanted me in this project until its completion; it wasn't what I expected but most definitely welcome news.

"This is your story," she had told me once in our meeting. "We want your voice guiding this project.

And guide it I did.

In the weeks that followed, I found myself swept up in the whirlwind of pre-production. Meetings with directors, producers, and casting agents became a daily affair. I had thought my job would mostly involve writing, but I quickly learned that being a scriptwriter on a major production meant having a say in almost everything related to the story.

Casting sessions were the most fun. It was surreal to watch actors auditioning for the role of Forrest. There were some known faces and some new ones. I did my best to maintain my composure. Anyway, I had written the character keeping Tom Hanks in mind, but here, in this alternate world, he was just another actor trying to land a breakout role.

When he came into the room, I almost fell out of my chair. He spoke a monologue from the script with a raw vulnerability that left the whole room silent when he finished. When he was through, Vanessa turned to me and smiled knowingly.

"What do you think, Alex?"

I nodded, barely able to speak. "He is Forrest Gump."

At the end of the day, Tom Hanks was locked in, and the project finally felt real.

The first day of shooting was a mix of chaos and magic. The set—a small Alabama town recreated on a sprawling lot—buzzed with activity. Trucks unloaded equipment, crew members shouted instructions, and actors rehearsed their lines. I stood to the side, watching as the world I had written came to life.

"Alex!" Vanessa shouted, waving her hand at me to come over. "We're ready to shoot the bench scene. Want to sit in?"

The famous scene. Forrest sits on a park bench, describing his life story to passersby. How could I decline?

Tom had already arrived and was dressed impeccably in his beige suit with a box of chocolates in his hand. He began running over his lines in front of a camera while seasoned veteran Carl adjusted camera angles.

"Life is like a box of chocolates," he said, his voice tinged with a Southern drawl. "You never know what you're gonna get."

It was perfect.

[1 week later]

The set, designed to look like a dense Vietnamese jungle, had been laboriously built over weeks. Artificial vines dangled from towering trees, smoke machines simulated the haze of war, and pyrotechnics were rigged to mimic explosions. Everyone was on edge; this was one of the most complex and expensive scenes of the film, and it had to go off without a hitch.

But fate had other plans.

When the news came out, the crew was already buzzing from pre-shoot activity. Vanessa Harper rushed to the set, her face pale. She motioned for everyone to stop and then spoke.

"Carl's been in an accident," she said. "Stable, but not returning for several weeks.

A ripple of shock passed through the team. Carl was the glue holding the production together, and his absence felt like a hole in the fabric of the project.

Before anyone could fully process the news, another blow landed. One of the producers approached Vanessa with a grim expression. "The Assistant Director's missing. He's in the hospital—overdose."

Vanessa rubbed her temples. "You've got to be kidding me."

The clock was ticking. A stop to the shoot was impossible; the budget and tight schedule would not allow for this. Replacing both key figures on such short notice seemed an impossibility. Vanessa and the other producer turned to me, with eyes that filled with both determination and desperation.

"Oh, no..." I took a step back.

"Alex, you know this story better than anyone. You've been here every step of the way. Can you direct this scene?" She asked.

I froze. Directing had never been part of the plan. Writing was my domain, my refuge. But there it was: the expectant faces of the crew and cast staring at me, telling me that wasn't an option. But then again, this was my chance. I have no idea if things work like this but, fuck it! I'm gonna grab the chance. I've seen Carl's work. I can do it. Yeah! Self-confidence is the key.

"Okay," I said, my voice steadier than I felt. "But first, let's have a contract drawn up. In case this film goes down the tubes, I am not going to be blamed. And I want both scriptwriter's and director's pay separately."

Vanessa didn't bat an eye. "Done."

The legalities were finally sorted, and the set was ready to roll. I sat in the director's chair, headset on, script in hand, and an entire crew waiting for me to give them direction.

"Okay, let's set up for Scene 42," I said, trying to sound confident. "Explosion on Mark A, soldiers enter from Stage Left. Pyrotechnics, are you ready?"

A chorus of affirmations followed. The crew sprang into action, and I felt a jolt of adrenaline. I know I can do this.

The scene revolved around Forrest's time in Vietnam. It was intense, packed with emotional beats and high-stakes action. Tom Hanks, as Forrest, had to carry a wounded soldier through the chaos, dodging explosions and gunfire.

"Action!" I called, and the set erupted into motion.

Tom Hanks sprinted across the jungle terrain, sweat pouring down his face. The pyrotechnics team executed a series of controlled explosions, sending plumes of dirt and smoke into the air. Extras dressed as soldiers shouted, stumbled, and fell, creating a vivid sense of war-torn chaos.

"Lieutenant Dan!" Tom screamed, his voice raw and desperate. He lifted the actor playing the lieutenant onto his shoulders, stumbling but determined. "I ain't leaving you behind!"

The camera followed closely, capturing every grimace and bead of sweat. The authenticity in Tom's performance was electrifying. Between takes, I approached him.

"That was incredible," I said. "But let's add a moment where Forrest hesitates, just for a heartbeat, before he picks Dan up. It'll make his decision to save him feel even more heroic."

Tom nodded, his eyes lighting up. "Got it. Let's try it again."

The next take was interrupted by a misfire explosion, which was showering too much dirt around an actor. No one got hurt, but it rattled everyone. I called for a brief break to recalibrate the effects.

"Safety first," I reminded the crew. "No shot is worth someone getting hurt."

The amendments worked, and the takes the following day were faultless. Tom's added moment of hesitation gave the scene an emotional depth that left the crew aghast.

[4:30 PM]

It was finally time for the last shot of the day. The crew applauded. I felt a wave of relief and pride.

Vanessa approached me. She was smiling. I guess things went well and the producers are happy. "Not bad for your first day as a director," she said. "Maybe you've found your second calling."

I laughed, exhaustion creeping in. "Let's not get ahead of ourselves. This was just my first day."

"And you wrapped up 2 days' worth of shooting in a single day without anyone complaining," She responded. "That's rare. And the number of retakes is also minimal. I don't want to say this but did you go to some academy or something? Where did you learn directing?"

"Nope, never been to an academy. Just saw Carl working and decided to imitate him," I said with a smile.

"You are either a quick learner or a natural."

I nodded and looked around the set. The crew was packing up the equipment and getting ready to leave for the day. A sense of accomplishment washed over me, but I knew that this was just the beginning. The next few weeks would be just as demanding as today, if not more. But I was ready for it.

I couldn't wait for the next shoot.

As the next week rolled around, the atmosphere on set shifted. We were moving into one of the film's most intimate and emotionally charged scenes—the bar performance. Robin Wright had been cast as Jenny, a character whose complexity demanded both vulnerability and strength. Her role in this scene was pivotal, revealing the raw, unfiltered depths of Jenny's struggles.

The set was a dimly lit dive bar, perfectly aged to look like it had seen better days. Neon beer signs flickered on the walls, and the stage was a small, creaky platform at the far end of the room. The crew had scattered empty bottles, cigarette butts, and crumpled napkins across the floor to complete the lived-in feel. A vintage microphone stood at the center of the stage, its chrome gleaming under the soft, smoky light.

Robin arrived early, dressed in a pair of cutoff denim shorts and a loose-fitting shirt that hung off one shoulder. Her wardrobe for the performance was equally minimal—just her underwear and a guitar slung across her chest. It was a bold choice, but one that captured the desperation and defiance of Jenny's character.

As she stepped onto the stage, the room seemed to hold its breath. The guitar hung low on her body, her long blonde hair cascading over her shoulders. Robin adjusted the strap and looked at me, her eyes searching for reassurance.

"How do I look?" she asked, her voice steady but tinged with nerves.

"You look like Jenny," I said. "You're going to be incredible."

The scene was designed to showcase Jenny's vulnerability, her desperate bid for attention and validation in a world that had repeatedly let her down. In this moment, she was both exposed and powerful—a contradiction that made her one of the most compelling characters in the story.

"Alright, everyone, quiet on set!" I called out, the familiar buzz of anticipation coursing through me. "Lights, camera, action!"

Robin began to strum the guitar, her fingers moving with practiced ease. Her voice, soft at first, filled the room with a haunting rendition of Bob Dylan's Blowin' in the Wind. The raw emotion in her performance was palpable, and for a moment, it was as if we were all transported to that dingy bar, watching Jenny bare her soul.

The camera captured every nuance—the way her eyes glistened with unshed tears, the slight tremble in her hands as she played, the way she held the audience captive with her presence. It was mesmerizing.

As the song ended, a lone drunk in the corner of the bar shouted a lewd comment, breaking the spell. Jenny's expression hardened, and she shot him a withering glare before walking off the stage, her guitar slung over her back. The moment was pure magic.

"Cut!" I yelled, unable to hide the grin on my face. "Robin, that was phenomenal."

She stepped off the stage, her cheeks flushed. "Was it too much?"

"It was perfect," Vanessa chimed in, walking up beside me. "You brought Jenny to life in a way I never imagined."

Robin smiled, clearly relieved. "Thank you. It's a vulnerable place to be, but it felt... right."

The rest of the day flew by as we shot close-ups and alternate angles. By the time we wrapped, the entire crew was buzzing with excitement. This scene, we all knew, was going to be one of the film's defining moments.

...

The following weeks were a whirlwind of activity. Each day brought new challenges—complex shots, intricate setups, and long hours of fine-tuning performances. But the energy on set was infectious, and with each scene we completed, the film began to feel like a living, breathing story.

Robin Wright's scenes were some of the most emotionally taxing. From portraying Jenny's heartbreak to her fleeting moments of joy, she poured everything into her performance. Tom Hanks, ever the professional, was a steady anchor, his portrayal of Forrest grounding the story in warmth and authenticity.

The scene we shot was the emotional farewell at Jenny's gravesite. Forrest, holding a letter from their son, stood under the shade of a lone tree, his voice cracking as he spoke to her. The crew was silent, save for the occasional sniffle.

"Life is a bit of both, Jenny," Tom said, his voice trembling. "Sometimes I guess there aren't enough rocks."

As the camera captured his tearful gaze toward the sky, I called, "Cut." The moment hung in the air, everyone too moved to speak. It was a wrap on the most poignant chapter of the story.

Our final day of shooting was the iconic school bus scene. Forrest, now a father, watches his young son board the bus for the first time. The scene was bright and hopeful, a perfect bookend to the film's journey.

The camera tracked Tom as he crouched to talk to the boy. "You're gonna be fine," he said softly, brushing a hand over the boy's hair.

As the bus pulled away, Tom sat on the bench, watching until it disappeared from sight. The shot lingered, capturing the serene expression on his face as the breeze rustled through the trees.

"Cut!" I called, and the crew broke into applause.

Vanessa approached me, her smile wide. "That's it, Alex. We did it."

I looked around at the smiling faces of the cast and crew, the people who had made this dream a reality. It was surreal.

As I packed up my things, I felt a deep sense of gratitude. 'Thanks, OG makers from my past world.' My life had changed in ways I could never have imagined.

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[10 advance chs] [3 chs/week] [All chs available for all tiers]

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