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CAST LIST LEAKED FOR HIGHLY ANTICIPATED FILM ADAPTATION
America's Suitehearts made Mavin Ross a household name in the romance world back in 2009. The incredibly popular book follows the thrilling romance novel that had young adults all over the world hooked with mysterious characters, the memory loss trope, and a strong, brave woman as the main character. It’s a formula that her fan base can’t seem to get enough of — and soon, it’ll make its way to the screen with a movie adaptation.
Very soon, in fact. Patrick Stump, who serves as one of America's Suitehearts ‘s leading male roles, recently offered fans an update about when the thriller will arrive in theatres. We’ve been chomping at the bit for more details about America's Suitehearts ever since it was announced in October last year, so of course, we’ve got everything you need to know about the adaptation below. Keep reading for Stump’s full breakdown of all the details revealed so far, including the cast and release date.
And what a cast list it is! Of course, Patrick Stump as lead Dean Rigby can hardly come as a surprise – his golden locks and bubbly smile were almost a given for the caring husband role. His rivalling role, however, contains some surprises, though – Michael Way, a relatively unknown New Jersey actor, in one of the leading roles. The casting director must have seen more from him than we have!
But perhaps the least surprising of all is notorious Petunia Wentz, cast in the role of witty and daring Novena Angelus. We had no other actor in mind than this young heartbreaker to play the eponymous main character! Wentz has been making waves in the industry since being pulled out of her drama academy in only his first year, and has flitted from role to role ever since. And who could be surprised, with that poster-girl face of hers?
America's Suitehearts has had more than just its cast revealed in the past week, though. Just a matter of hours later, the next big announcement came through (and perhaps this one was more planned) – the film location, we are happy to report, is right here in Chi-town! This news was met with enthusiasm from the book’s large fanbase, as the book is set in a city clearly modelled on the Big City. We can hardly say we’re surprised.
Christina shoved the morning paper away from her with a grimace. What a load of rubbish, honestly. She didn’t buy tabloids for a reason, but she’d read everything in the house and scoured the entirety of the local library already, and the only fresh text she’d get was from heavily exaggerated “news” papers that talked more about hair than actual news. Besides, sometimes the stories would actually be interesting, or funny, in a way.
This news was particularly unwelcome. Chris cringed at the thought of her precious city getting overwhelmed by some ridiculous film set, disruption everywhere, just for one more below-par film to get its hour of fame. She didn’t recognise the names of any of the actors, not that she cared. Seems like someone Shelly would probably know, though.
Thinking of Shelly, she’d be here in five minutes, and Christina was nowhere near ready. Gulping down the last of her coffee (too much grind), she got to her feet, running a quick hand through her hair (she needed a haircut, honestly. She’d rather go bald than tend to that early in the morning). She spent a few minutes shoving the majority of the dirty dishes into the sink until her buzzer went off.
Shelly entered the flat with her usual charming grin, despite the rather frazzled appearance of her hair. She walked straight past a dishevelled Christina and into her kitchen, flicking the kettle on and grabbing a mug. “Well, since we’re already late to the opening shift, might as well just have the first coffee here.”
“Oh, no, sorry–” Christina shifted the jar of coffee away from Shelly’s line of sight. “Uh- Layla. She dropped the jar this morning, you know? And this,” She pointed at her own cup, “Was the last cup of coffee I could make.”
“Ugh, fine… But what am I supposed to do when you’re busy washing the dishes for the next– I don’t know– half hour?”
“Read the morning paper or something, I guess?” Chris was already picking up her worn-out scrub daddy sponge. The yellow smiley face was ripped at one edge, and it looked oddly menacing when it was more brown than sunshine yellow.
Shelly picked up the paper, but her eyes stayed fixed on Chris’s.
Chris glanced back at her with an eye-roll. “Seriously, I’m working as fast as I can. You can always head right to the cafe if you don’t want to stick around and wait.”
Shelly’s eyes widened in horror.
“Or stay here,” Christina held her hands up, then put them down at once as suds dripped down to her elbows. “But I’m not going to be much company, I’m afraid.”
“That’s perfectly fine,” Shelly rushed to emphasise. “You just – focus on your… soap? – and I’ll…” she glanced around distractedly, then settled for the newspaper in front of her.
The paper was still open on the article from earlier. Shelly’s brows shot up. “Wait – America's Suitehearts’s being filmed here?”
“Hm?” Christina barely glanced over. “Oh. Yeah. Apparently.”
“Wow.” Shelly buried herself in the article, her eyes flickering down the columns with interest. “Think they’d let me sneak onto set?”
“Why, do you want to steal the camera equipment for your cat vlogs?”
“Of course not, why would you even say that,” Shelly answered blandly. She continued to read through the article, nibbling on her lip. “Why’d you even get the Digest, anyway? Thought you hated tabloids.”
“I do. Don’t have anything else to read, though.”
“Ohhh.” Shelly continued to read in silence, though she gave a low whistle when he reached the leaked information. “Good cast list. Never heard of this Micro Wave guy, though.”
Christina hummed distractedly. “I’ve never heard of any of them.”
“Oh, come on, yes you have.”
“Nope.”
Shelly rolled her eyes. “You’ve been with me and seen films with them in, so I know you have.”
“Huh.” Christina paused in her scrubbing for a moment to fix Shelly with an arched brow.
“Yeah. Patrick Stump was Dr. Francis in The Doomsday trilogy?”
Christina narrowed her eyes. “Blond-ish? Pretty eyes?”
“That’s him, yeah.”
“Oh yeah.” Chris turned back to her pan. “What about the other one?”
PJ consulted the article again. “Oh, Petunia Wentz? Don’t tell me you forgot! You liked her.”
“Did I?”
“Yeah, she was in Midnight.”
“Oh!” Christina brightened a little. I mean… Midnight had been decent. “Who’d she play?”
“The lead… Bella Fawn?”
“Huh.” Chris pursed her lips. Bella was one of her favourite lead characters. It was a good plot, and the actors had played the creepy story well, focusing on the cinematography and expressions more than jumpscares like most movies did. And Bella… She didn’t remember much about her. Except maybe the fact that her The face was interesting, long and full of warmth. And she had nice eyes. Hot whiskey eyes, Shelly had called them.
“Think we should check out the film set sometime?” Shelly asked, flipping through the rest of the article. “It’s going to be in the city centre from… tomorrow?”
Chris groaned.
“Oh, it won’t be that bad.”
“Traffic’s going to be a nightmare.”
“Traffic’s always a nightmare. C’mon, we’ll leave early, and I’ll buy you some Portillos fries when I’ll come for my shift.”
— — —
The Next morning, Chris was late to work.
She hurried through Belmont Ave, diet coke in hand, bag slung over her shoulder. How very cinematic, yeah? The epitome of a working student – except, she was late. As she tends to be. Oh, how Christina hated being late. Usually, she left the flat with at least half an hour before she was due anywhere, but somehow she’d always get distracted… And this morning was worse; that morning she’d overslept. Her eyes still itching from a full night watching whatever new show Elle recommended, she had barely stumbled out of the flat, stopping off at a vending machine before rushing up the street towards her usual bus stop.
Problem: the road containing her trusty bus stop was closed.
Closed??
She stopped at the edge of the road, joining a small throng of people congregated around the big traffic cone with the sign that read ROAD CLOSED next to it.
Oh well. A fifteen minute walk never hurt anyone.
— — —
“Oh, Chris, you’re late again?” Travie was behind the counter, shuffling through the change left by the closing shift. “One of these days, Ray’s gonna get you fired.”
Christina, still sweaty from her jog to the cafe, huffed out her response. “Roads were closed, I’m sorry. I’ll get on to it. Can you put on some good music before the customers come in?”
She slipped behind the counter and opened her bag up to get the apron– wait. She forgot the motherfucking apron. Dude. If only the roads weren’t closed so she didn’t have to rush, and she would’ve checked on the bus, and she would’ve gotten the apron– ugh.
“Why the hell would they close the roads in the first place?!” She said, out loud, her back to the counter.
“Maybe because of the filming,” a distinctly amused voice said from behind the counter.
Chris almost jolted out of her skin. Customer. Behind her. Aw, shit. Also… Filming, right here? She turned slowly towards the customer, a sheepish smile on her face. “Filming? Oh, wait. Sorry.” She fixed her hair a bit, and prayed she looked presentable as she said, “Welcome to Novena Cafe, what would you like to order, ma’am?”
The customer tilted her head. “I mean… America's Suitehearts is being filmed in Chicago, right? And I’d love an iced matcha, extra sweet, please.”
Chris blinked again. Fuck, she should’ve slept a bit more, she was just too groggy for this. She pursed her lips. “Bloody Hollywood. What on god’s green earth possessed them to come here? Oh and, sorry, love, we don’t do matcha here.”
“Aren’t you happy?” The customer asked, sounding surprised. “Hm.. if there’s no matcha I think a Iced Hazelnut Macchiato would do.”
“Happy? God, no.” Christina scoffed. She turned around to get the espresso machine set up.
“Why not?” Chris didn’t have to see the brunette customer’s face to hear the distinct confusion in her voice. Must be a big fan of the books, then.
Chris shook her head, still focused on circling the glass with vanilla syrup. “I mean, because of the state of the city! Everyone’s late for work, my boss is going to kill me, and I couldnt even get on the damn bus stop because of– because of some stupid second-rate film that’s never gonna live up to the book.” She turned around, gesturing with the syrup in one hand and a glass in another.
There was a silence, in which the expresso machine behind Christina whirred and clicked.
Eventually, the customer answered. “So you don’t like film, huh?”
“Oh, don’t get me wrong, now.. I love movies. I… I just don’t like mediocre adaptations of good books that are fine the way they are.”
The customer flicked her hair behind her shoulder and leaned on the table in front of her, a glint in her hot-whiskey eyes. Had Chris seen this girl here before? “Well,” She glanced at chris’s nametag, “Christina, How do you even know this one’s gonna be mediocre?”
Oh, Christina was starting to dislike this customer, a bit.
“I just do.” Chris scoffed. “I mean, have you seen the cast list? Havent heard of any of them. Do they even have any awards or anything?” She got the ice into the glass, and got ready to get the espresso from the machine. “Say, you’re not a big coffee-lover, are you? I mean. This is such an all sweet no coffee order.”
“Is that so?” The voice was cool.
“Is what so? I mean– the coffee or the cast?”
The customer looked a bit… annoyed? Chris found that she couldn’t read the expression on her face. She wondered if she’d said too much about the cast; but then again she didn’t really care. The only star she remotely liked was that of Petunia Wentz, and that was in the one role she’d seen her in, and she barely remembered her face.
“I’m sorry, I guess. I’m just kind of pissed about the road block.” Chris was putting extra hazelnut drizzle on. She made a star and smiley face as an apology to this pressed customer.
“I’m sure it’s not their fault.”
“Yeah, well,” Chris groaned, sourly. “I’d rather they took their crappy adaptation somewhere else.”
The customer raised one delicate brow. “Crappy adaptation?”
“Probably, I mean. America's Suitehearts is a great book, so it’d be difficult to do it justice even with good actors.”
The customer’s brow raised even higher. “Not impressed by the cast list, are we?”
Chris shrugged, too focused on getting the right amount of 2% milk into the glass. “Don’t know much about Hollywood, but they’re probably just pretty faces with plenty of fans.”
“Well, you certainly seem to know lots about it.” The voice was almost cutting.
“Not really. I just read the article. You want sprinkles on this? On me.” Chris glanced at the customer, actually paying attention to her this time. Her face was nice and sharply featured, and a hint of a smirk was playing on the edge of her lips. She had dark brown hair styled in a slanting fringe across her forehead, and her eyes were a warm, reddish sort of brown. Hot whiskey eyes, supplied Shelly’s voice in her head.
…Wait.
Chris took a step back, her eyes widening.
The woman tilted her head, the smirk fully settled on her lips now. She held herself with the easy grace of someone whose confidence bordered on bored arrogance. This girl… she looked exactly like Bella, Chris’s favourite character from Midnight, she realised in growing horror. (Oh, and the worst part? She was even more gorgeous in real life.)
“Uh. Um.” Chris wiped her sweaty palms on her Karma Is A Cat shirt, wondering if she was imagining it. Well, only one way to find out. “What name would you like on the order?”
The woman got her elbows off the counter, eyes never leaving Christina’s. Lazily, she answered, “Petunia. Petunia Wentz.”
What. The. Fuck?
Christina’s face dropped. Fuckshitbitchohmyfuckinggodhellno—
“And how much will that be?” The woman— Petunia fucking Wentz — was glaring daggers into Chris.
Fuck her stupid. Chungus. Life.
“That would be… 4.50$.” Her hands were shaking as she passed the drink to Petunia’s calm, still ones. She took the 5 dollar bill from Pete’s hands, a stupidly long silence holding until she counted the change and gave it back. She was still looking at christina with that burning gaze. Well… She certainly understood the hot in hot whiskey eyes now.
“Well, it seems I have to get to work,” the woman drawled, her brown eyes filled with mirth. “You know. Have to try and make this film better than a crappy adaption.”
Christina’s face drained of all colour. She spluttered. “I didn’t- uh i mean- it wasn’t supposed to…”
“No?” Pete snorted. “Certainly sounded like you meant it.”
Chris nearly choked. She could feel that early morning diet coke swirling in her stomach. “I didn’t— I didn’t know you were, you know— you!”
Pete’s metal bracelets clinked against each other as she ran a hand through her hair.
“Right… So, you would’ve been sputtering niceties at me if you knew?”
“Probably?” Chris felt like she was lying through her teeth, though it was technically the truth. “I mean, I have nothing against you, um. You’re like. Petunia Wentz.”
She chuckled. “I’m aware, yes.”
Chris just stared at her as she turned around, her brain far too scrambled, her cheks flaming. She tried to make a cohesive sentence; say something that would make the situation just a tiny bit better, but she didn’t have to break the awkward silence, for Petunia turned back before she stepped out the glass doors.
“Oh, and Christina? Love the coffee.” She shook the glass, ice rattling. “I think I’ll be coming here often, these next few months.”
The fuck just happened?
Chris felt her cheeks flood with heat once more, but this time it was less embarrassment and more anger at how absolutely snobby and stuck up his once-favourite actress was.
Christina glared after Pete’s back until she realised that there were fans outside. And they were staring at him, open-mouthed. The rest had followed Petunia Wentz with adoring expressions.
Straightening her back, Chris forced herself to turn away from the dozen creepy eyes of fans from outside the glass windows, and called out to her co-worker.
“Uh, Travie! Yo, McCoy, I think you’ll need to handle the customers for a while…”
The perfect start to a perfect day, she thought bitterly as she walked into the broom closet in search of a spare apron. Oh, and to make things worse? She had hazelnut drizzle from Miss Perfect’s extra sweet coffee order. Oh, the horrors.
— — —
“How did you forget about the shooting?”
Christina glared at the Portillo fries Shelly had brought him as if they’d caused him personal harm.
“I don’t know, man, I had other things on my mind, I guess…”
Shelly studied her quietly from behind her glasses before turning back to the shelf. “Well, it doesn’t matter now, you know? You’ll be prepared for tomorrow. Where do I keep the matcha, then?”
“Yeah, won’t happen happen again. Put it next to the sprinkles, I think.” Chris was sure she’d have a heart attack when she remembered the insults she’d spewed at the casting for the film to Petunia Wentz herself. Oh, gods. If Petunia Wentz hadn’t been so unpleasant and arrogant, Christina would almost have felt sorry for her.
Well, the closest thing she was getting to an apology was the matcha Christina had asked Shelly to buy for the cafe.
Work was quiet for the rest of her shift, if we’re not counting the few fans that came in asking for Pete’s order. She and Shelly loitered by the cash register, or asked Travie about how it was going between him and Matt.
By the time her shift drew to a close, it was already dark outside. Christina wrinkled her nose at the prospect of walking all the way back to her flat— in the freezing Chicago snow, she’d be lucky if she didn’t slip and fall down some undiscovered sewer shaft.
Shouldering her bag and thanking the heavens for the fact that she hadn’t forgotten her coat like she had her apron, Chris made her goodbyes to Shelly and started the long walks home. The pavement was crispy with frost that would be covered with snow by morning, and Chris shivered, drawing her coat tight around herself.
Chicago was as alive as it usually is in the early evenings, but the crowded streets were a bit less busy. The roads were blocked off with the same signs that had soured her morning, and Christina wondered why there was such disruption for one movie set. She wondered what scenes they’d be shooting here; America's Suitehearts mostly took place indoors, though some of the murders did take place outside. And then, of course, there was the whole wedding night drive thing in the beginning of the movie… How did they plan on shooting the murders, Christina wondered.
There were some sounds coming from a few streets away, accompanied by the occasional flashing of light. Christina narrowed her eyes. Her route home passed by that street. Hesitantly, she began to wonder if she was even allowed to walk this way – the roads were closed to traffic, but there were no signs up to indicate anything about pedestrians. She pursed her lips. The city couldn’t come to a complete halt just because of some film – she needed to get home.
She paused for just long enough to glance up the road, taking note of a haze of smoke and some flashing lights. There were camera trails along the ground, and a number of tripod-like shapes were just visible through the smoky haze. A few shadowy figures wandered around together, too far for Christina to take note of who they were.
Filming was happening right here, then.
And right on Christina’s way to work.
She heaved a long-suffering sigh as she continued on his way home. This disruption was awful – it was going to mean she’d have to leave a good hour earlier for work than she was used to. That was fine for a later shift, like today’s, but sometimes she had to open up at 8am. Waking at 6 really didn’t feel acceptable to Chris. No, not at all.
She made it back to his apartment in the dark, closing the door firmly behind her.