Fright Night

Typical summer's day in Hollywood. Scorching heat. Zero breeze. And across the street from a park where kids are playing, there's a dead actress in a doorway. Golden hair splayed across the weeds, ants scurrying along her bronzed skin. She's hot — and not just in a ''doesn't this slinky chocolate brown dress look amazing on me'' kind of way. She's sweaty. And worse. ''It reeks of urine down here,'' says Sarah Michelle Gellar. ''I'm just tellin' ya.''