Note: While authors are asked to place warnings on their stories for some moderated content, everyone has different thresholds, and it is your responsibility as a reader to avoid stories or stop reading if something bothers you.
Dinner is Prompt-ly at Eight - 14. Prompt #384 The Big Sleep
The Big Sleep
Prompt #384 – First Line
“Since when do I have to tell you everything?”
The swarthy Middle Eastern man growled at Donnie, giving him a dirty look. “I’m trying to save your life. Now tell me, what did the police say to you?”
Donnie looked out the glass at the whirling white snow. He was scared, confused, and now barreling down the Interstate in the middle of a blizzard. Donnie felt like he’d been kidnapped not saved. “You’re the one who got me into this mess. That’s according to you,” he finally barked while rubbing away the fog on the inside of the car window.
Donnie saw Fahd’s cheek twitch in anger. His face was bunched and tense. Instead of heading to the airport, the man decided it was too risky to get on a plane even with a fake driver’s license and credit card. The so-called butler’s behavior had made Donnie even less cooperative. ‘Why the hell should he trust him? Because of a kiss?’ the man thought and pursed his lips more tightly.
“I didn’t know this would happen,” Fahd said, a little more quietly this time. “I told you. I didn’t set up this for someone to get killed. It was a stupid television program, I swear.”
“I don’t believe you,” Donnie said, rubbing his eyes. “All you’ve ever told me are lies. You admitted tricking me to be part of this reality show. How can I trust you?”
“I told you,” Fahd said, putting his hand on the other man’s shoulder. This time Donnie didn’t have the heart to shrug it away. “All those reality TV shows are scripted. People play parts and there are lines and rehearsals and everything. This idea was to film people who are not alike living together and interacting naturally, or at least as spontaneously as we could get. I had no idea when they cast you it would end up like this.”
“What was the name of this fake show again?” Donnie asked, looking deeply into the other man’s eyes. He figured he could catch the man lying if he could see his reaction.
“It was called ‘Strange Bedfellows,’ Fahd said with a sigh. “It was supposed to be a cross between ‘Wife Swappers’ and ‘Big Brother.’ I really thought it was a great idea.”
“So, you never cast me in the part?” Donnie asked, peering at the other man.
“No,” Fahd said, glancing over at him. “You have to believe me. Everyone else was handpicked by me except for you. The producer said it was you or no one else.”
Donnie figured the man was telling the truth, or at least he seemed to be from his behavior. Fahd was obviously nervous and driving through the snowstorm was harrowing, but he wasn’t evasive or dismissive. That was a good sign he was telling Donnie what he really believed to be the truth.
“Fine.” Fahd snorted and dug into his pocket. “I know you still don’t believe me about how I set the whole thing up, but this will prove what is happening is real.” He handed Donnie a folded piece of paper. It was printed off a computer and the line at the top said it was from the San Francisco Chronicle. “Read it!”
Donnie started with the headline, “Local actress found shot in front of home.’ Underneath it was a picture of the woman he’d married and knew as Kevyn. Sure enough, it was her round face, toothy grin, and square features. The caption on the photo said her name was ‘Brenda Flannigan.’
“Police were called to the Mission District of San Francisco with reports of shots fired. Bystanders described the scene as like out of a movie. ‘The man was dressed in a tan overcoat and pork pie hat. He stepped right up to her and shot her dead. It was unreal,’ said Anita Planter, a neighbor. ‘I couldn’t believe my eyes. It was just bang, bang, and she fell right over.’
Authorities aren’t releasing any details except the name of the victim, Brenda Denise Flannigan. Flannigan is a well-known local actor in the theater scene here in the city. Recently, she was rumored to have been rehearsing for a part on a reality television show. Ms. Flannigan’s agent was not available for comment.”
Donnie let his hand drop. He heard the paper crumple in his fist. “Somebody really shot her.”
Fahd nodded, squinting into the maelstrom of white outside the car. “They tried the same with me. I grabbed the gun from his hand and threw it into the alley.”
Donnie felt dizzy. His thoughts were as opaque as the swirling snow. This was so strange, twisted even. It reminded him of the old movies he watched with his grandpa who called them ‘hard-boiled.’ In those black-and-whites the private detective would race to save the girl only to find out she wasn’t who she seemed. Shots fired into the night and lips would kiss with deadly impact. He could also remember when his grandfather explained what the title meant. It scared him.
Donnie shivered. “It’s like ‘The Big Sleep,’” he whispered. Fahd looked at him briefly, a confused look on his face. “Nothing is real and it doesn’t make sense until the end.”
“This is real,” Fahd said, softly. He paused and asked, “Why are you talking about sleeping?”
“No,” Donnie said, shaking his head. “The Big Sleep is death. It’s a movie where nothing is as it seems.”
Fahd didn’t say anything for a moment. Donnie looked at him and saw the man was chewing thoughtfully on his dark red lips, lips that only an hour ago had been latched on his.
“Why did you kiss me?” Donnie asked, realizing his voice sounded breathless, meek.
Fahd wiped his cheek. “I had to. I wanted to…I...when I saw you I was so relieved.” The man wouldn’t look at Donnie instead staring out into the gray filtered light.
“You like me?” Donnie asked. “Is that why you kissed me?”
Fahd sighed and nodded slowly. “You know this whole project was a bust. Nothing was working right. Brenda was emoting like a puppet and you were so sweet. The only interesting shots I’d get were when you thought Brenda was fooling around with the employees. Your face was so hurt and filled with despair.” Fahd cleared his throat. “It was useless footage of course. Who wants to watch a reality show with such honest emotion and sadness?”
Donnie thought about what Fahd said and turned to him. “You started caring for me, didn’t you?”
Fahd nodded and looked over for a minute. The swarthy man’s eyes were full of longing. “I wanted to comfort you and make you know someone was there.” The man gave Donnie a tight grin and his eyes returned to the road. “I fell in love with you.”
Donnie snorted. “You did not.”
“I did,” Fahd said, his voice like a dry, lonely wind. “I had to come for you.”
Donnie looked down at his hands. He saw they were clenched so tight his fingernails hurt. “Why didn’t you say anything?”
Fahd just wiped his cheek again.
- 10
Note: While authors are asked to place warnings on their stories for some moderated content, everyone has different thresholds, and it is your responsibility as a reader to avoid stories or stop reading if something bothers you.
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