Page 4
Story: Dealbreaker
We walk back toward my room, and my curiosity gets the best of me.
“Hey, Holly? Who’s in the room at the end of the hall?”
Her eyes turn sad. “Oh…that’s Willow St. Claire.”
“Willow… oh, the actress.”
“She had a bad fall, hit her head, and has been in a coma. They’re not sure when or if she’s going to wake up. It’s such a tragedy.”
“And that guy?”
“Her fiancé, Dylan Durand. You know, the big-time movie producer?”
I know the name.
Both names, actually.
Hell, you have to be living in a cave not to recognize their names.
They’re a Hollywood power couple, and in my line of work, it pays to know who’s who in the city of Angels.
And I intend to find out everything there is to know about Dylan Durand.
Two
Willow
Beep-beep. Beep-beep. Beep-beep.
The aggravating noise has been sitting on the edges of my consciousness all day, but try as I might, I haven’t been able to part the fog that’s sitting so heavily on my mind.
Beep-beep. Beep-beep. Beep-beep.
An alarm?
Am I late to set?
Or a fitting? Or?—
Beep-beep. Beep-beep. Beep-beep.
To meet someone…?
Who’ll be very upset if I’m late.
The beeping speeds up, the blackness surrounding my mind fading a little further.
Why would they be upset?
Why would that thought have panic clinging to the edges of my brain?
Why is everything so freaking foggy and confusing?
The frustration is enough that I finally hear more than just that godforsaken beeping. There’s the rattling of a cart, the heavy whooshing sound of an industrial air conditioning system, and closer…
A voice that has the beeping speeding even further.
“...what game you’re playing, but if I find out you’re faking it, I will fucking end you.”
“Hey, Holly? Who’s in the room at the end of the hall?”
Her eyes turn sad. “Oh…that’s Willow St. Claire.”
“Willow… oh, the actress.”
“She had a bad fall, hit her head, and has been in a coma. They’re not sure when or if she’s going to wake up. It’s such a tragedy.”
“And that guy?”
“Her fiancé, Dylan Durand. You know, the big-time movie producer?”
I know the name.
Both names, actually.
Hell, you have to be living in a cave not to recognize their names.
They’re a Hollywood power couple, and in my line of work, it pays to know who’s who in the city of Angels.
And I intend to find out everything there is to know about Dylan Durand.
Two
Willow
Beep-beep. Beep-beep. Beep-beep.
The aggravating noise has been sitting on the edges of my consciousness all day, but try as I might, I haven’t been able to part the fog that’s sitting so heavily on my mind.
Beep-beep. Beep-beep. Beep-beep.
An alarm?
Am I late to set?
Or a fitting? Or?—
Beep-beep. Beep-beep. Beep-beep.
To meet someone…?
Who’ll be very upset if I’m late.
The beeping speeds up, the blackness surrounding my mind fading a little further.
Why would they be upset?
Why would that thought have panic clinging to the edges of my brain?
Why is everything so freaking foggy and confusing?
The frustration is enough that I finally hear more than just that godforsaken beeping. There’s the rattling of a cart, the heavy whooshing sound of an industrial air conditioning system, and closer…
A voice that has the beeping speeding even further.
“...what game you’re playing, but if I find out you’re faking it, I will fucking end you.”
Table of Contents
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