She sat at her typewriter and began with the clakity clack of the keys. She dove in
deep on page one seventy three of her manuscript:
She shoved the key into the doorknob and threw open the door. And to her
amazement, Darlene was sitting in the living room reading what would be
the last page she'd ever read. Donny charged into the room from the bedroom
with all his luggage, startling Darlene. Cherry's phone rang. A call from the Howling Angel.
She ignored it. Before she could say a word to Donny, he was out the door swiftly.
Cherry dropped her attache case, kicked off her high heels and hurried after him.
She caught up with him at the elevator. He turned to face her. They glared at each other.
In a sudden urge, Cherry reached for Donny's tie. He swatted her hand away.
There was the ding of the elevator. He turned and stepped in. Cherry's phone rang.
It was Chesterfield calling. She answered the phone, then hung up quickly. A memory
entered her mind. She thought of the day she had first met Donny at Furgeson's
near the deli she regularly visited. Suddenly, she was hungry for a tongue on rye.
She wished that she had a virgin bloody mary to gulp down. She walked to the
stairway and hurried downstairs where she nearly collided with a collie that was
romping its way upstairs. Her phone slipped out of her hand and collided with a steel
stair, cracking the camera lens. Picking it up, she cursed. She made her way
to the lobby of the hotel. The concierge saw her and advanced toward her.
Then he noticed her naked feet. The concierge held a tray of pastries. Cherry had
always admired the flowing blond hair of the concierge. Her pet name for him was
Bumfuzzle. But she knew his real name was Cory Corker or something that
sounded like that. He knew her as Three nineteen. When he'd see her, his mind would
sing the words Hey Nineteen from the Steely Dan song. Bumfuzzle approached
Cherry and told her that a couple had been asking about her. She whispered
something in his ear then ambled across the lobby and stood near a pillar, watching
Donny as he exited the building. She remained standing there for a moment. She
saw a woman approach the registration counter and tell the attendant that her
dog, a collie had gotten loose and was somewhere in the building and that she
needed to find the dog - Odette - before she left the hotel for the day. The woman looked
a bit like that tall actress onThird Rock From the Sun, Cherry thought. That was her favorite show growing up. She'd remained a fan of the actor Joseph Gordon-Levitt from the show whom she'd crushed over as a preteen.
Her feet feeling cold now, Cherry decided to do something about it.
It was at this point the writer stopped typing. Ever since she'd written the
line about the virgin bloody mary she'd been craving it. She stood up and walked to
her refrigerator and opened it, hoping she'd find something to drink to
quench her unusual thirst. She didn't find anything she desired at the moment. Then she had an idea. She walked to her cabinet and grabbed a can of Progresso tomato soup.
She opened the can and poured some of the contents into a tall glass
that her sister had given her. It had the inscription When you drink from thee,
think of me. She grabbed a little bottle of Tapatio and added about two tablespoons
of it into the glass. She then added some fresh ground pepper. She went back
to her fridge and removed a pitcher of chilled water and poured about two
cups of it into her mix. She stirred it and let the concoction cool for a
moment. She took a sip. It wasn't quite a virgin bloody mary mix, but
it wasn't far off either. She added a few ice cubes and after a moment
took a bigger sip. Not too bad. It served its purpose. She walked over
to her cabinet and retrieved a small bottle of worcestershire sauce and
added a few shakes into the mix. She stirred it and drank more. Better.
She could now get back to work. She walked back toward her typewriter
but caught her reflection in the glass of a framed photo hanging
on a wall. She noticed her hair was standing up and was, well, frizzy was
a good word for it. She'd never given it much thought, she was
not one to consider such things before but now she wondered about what
product would keep her hair from being so
frizzy and untamed. She decided she would take the steps to find out
what could help her with that. Later. She took a long look at the photo
in the frame and her mind took her back to the time the photo was taken.
It was an artsy black and white photo of herself and a woman she
briefly dated. This photo was taken before they dated - they were merely
good friends goofing off and in the photo were touching tongues at the
suggestion of the friend they were celebrating with. Not celebrating anything
In particular, It was a road trip from West L.A. to the beach of Santa Barbara.
But back to the typewriter. She stood above it for a sec, sipping on her concoction
and studied the paper within the typewriter. She could see that the letter L
wasn't hitting the paper as hard as the other keys. It was typing light.
No big deal. She knew she wouldn't do anything about it. She placed the
back of her palm against the small of her back and leaned back on it,
stretching a bit. After a few more sips from her drink, she sat back down
at her desk. The chair was comfortable. She felt comfortable, with a window
open and a modest breeze encompassing her. You know what? - she
thought to herself - I could use some caffeine. She picked herself up
and headed to the kitchen. She loaded the coffee machine with Death
Wish coffee. It brewed. She poured a cup then sat back down at the
typewriter.
Page one seventy four.
As Darlene turned the page of the book she was reading, the paper cut
her finger. She examined her finger for damage and decided she'd better
do something about it. She laid the book down, got up and proceeded to the
bathroom for a band-aid. She found one in the cabinet and applied it.
She could hear her phone ringing in the living room. She took a swig
of Listerine and headed back. The call was from a number she didn't
recognize. She answered anyway. She walked to the kitchen, swished twice
and spit out the Listerine. After a moment she put her phone in her pocket and
left the room out the front door, nearly colliding with Cherry who, with chilled feet,
small-stepped quickly into the room.
"Where you going?" asked Cherry.
"I'll talk with you later about it." said Darlene as she hurried down
the hallway.
"You smell fresh." Cherry commented.
"You shut your mouth, now!" - a voice is heard from the hallway.
A scuffle is heard. It sounds like two men wrestling. There's no obvious location
this ruckus is coming from. Suddenly an ice bucket, full of ice slams into the
hallway wall, strewing ice and ice bits all over.
The writer pauses. "This is going nowhere" she thinks. There's no reason
to keep typing unless something dramatic happens. Just then, there's a loud thud
from the roof. It's so loud she involuntarily hunches for a moment. Somehow
something has dropped onto the roof of her house. Something heavy.
