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Apr-22-2010 21:04

"Cut!" The director screamed. He ran onto the movie set and stared at the lost man in a tacky detective costume. The director was a head shorter than most actors, but his stare was fierce. "I told you for God knows how many times, read your script as it is WRITTEN!"

"But real detectives don't say things like 'What were you doing at the time of the murder.' It's a straight give away to the suspect that a murder had taken place!" The poor man defended.

"God damn it, who cares what you say as long as it's a talkie film. A MOVIE!" The director slapped his script on the prop table. He turned to his crew, "Who hired this genius?"

The crew was stone silent. The cameramen wiped their bulky equipment fervently like their life depended on it. The lighting crew looked at their silver lamps as if they saw it for the first time. The soundman listened to his playback looking for noises that didn’t exist.

A young man in a plaid sweater put up his shaking hand, "but sir, you said you wanted an authentic guy to play the part, so I got you a real detective."

"I said I wanted an authentic LOOKING guy, Martin! Not the real deal. This is show biz, use your brain, if you're not SITTING on it!!" The stumpy director bellowed.

"But…"

A voice light as chimes cut through the quarrel. "Boys, if you don't mind, I'll just go powder my nose." The lead actress with white blonde hair and the figure of an hourglass floated back into her dressing room.

"Yes of course, certainly my darling." The director cooed. He then turned coldly to Martin and the detective. "We'll take a 15 minutes break for you two to sort this out."

"Break! 15 minutes!" Martin announced, he then turned apologetically to his friend, "I'm so sorry, detective Zeo. I know most of this doesn't make sense, but can you please stick to your lines?"

Joseph Zeo looked at his shiny detective costume and gave a weak smile, "I dig what you mean," he sighed, "and you know I wouldn't have taken the job if I wasn't low on dough.

May-12-2010 13:12

Silence fell over the kitchen as Vulkie departed, and Molly slowly crossed her arms and studied Tony with a blatantly appraising look.

"Why are you in my kitchen?" she asked finally, tilting her head, green eyes flicking over the man curiously. "You look like hell." she added. The Italian man rolled his head back to stare at her defiantly.

"Your lunatic friends brought me here. Called it a safehouse." he snarled.

"And who did that to you?" she asked, waving a hand at his injuries.

"Some crazy woman. Boots. Crazy eyes." he said, and Molly smiled in a thin-lipped way.

"I imagine you mean Riza Hawkeye. She is not one to cross." she said thoughtfully, then pulled up a chair and sat close to him, cradling her small pointed chin in one hand.

"What were they looking for?"

"Like I'm going to tell you!" he said gruffly, but Molly merely crooked one side of her mouth.

"I could just call and ask my friends. I rather figured you'd want to be spared the humiliation of not being in control of what happens to you, or indeed what you can tell me by yourself."

"They were asking about a job I did a while back on a guy named Johnny, and... some photos."

"Photos of?"

"Hell if I know."

"Tony." Molly said after a pause. "I don't believe you."

The silence stretched on.

"You know, I'm sure you heard one or more of those 'friends' of mine as you call them, state emphatically that I'm not particularly a friend. Joseph Zeo, I daresay." a flicker in his eyes confirmed her suspicion. "And, I happen to know you from the crowd at LCN. Lets just say, you can call me a friend of a friend. Now, I'm just as interested in protecting my benefits from...my friends at LCN as you are. If this mess was cleared up, well, it would be best for us, don't you think? So perhaps you ought to tell me what you do know, and I'll see what I can do about it."

Tony looked at her appraisingly, and she could tell by his expression that he now recognized her. With a deep breath, he leaned close...