Crimson Fire, Chapter 1 (partial)

Crimson slipped out of bed early. It wasn’t often she woke up quite so simply, not even needing a refresher to bring her back to consciousness. But for whatever reason, the green-gray hush of the morning had seduced her awake, and here she was, fully cognizant of her surroundings and feeling kind of philosophical, to boot. Not something she usually felt after a night with Mark, but her body was buzzing now, alive with the anticipation that today, this perfectly ordinary morning and whatever followed it, was going to be different.

 

Siren, Chapter 1

SIREN

Andy hated nothing so much as he did clouds.

Clouds were never harbingers of great things to come. He had his theories about the whys and wherefores, but the facts were clear. He had a forty percent chance of being given a dirty look when it was cloudy. That chance was less than twenty percent in fair weather. And he’d watched the stock market for a period of seven months, pegging it to the weather. There wasn’t an economic downturn that was preceded by a clear day. Cloudy days were, in fact, far worse than rainy days. Rainy days ended up with a clearing sky; clouds just got worse before they got better.

 

Part Five

One of the sad rules of television acting is that you can’t look attractive on the screen unless you look absolutely ridiculous in front of the camera. The spotlights wash you out, you get sweaty, you get pale, you’re underfed, you’re stressed. So before you go on, they make you up like you’re some kind of a baby doll. Rosy cheeks, painted lips. The effect is muted a little bit on-set, but when you’re in the trailer getting the stuff dabbed on you, you inevitably look perfectly ridiculous.

That’s why it’s somewhat easier to look at Ryan Markey today. We’re both getting our makeup done, and there is nothing quite like a tall, well-built man wearing what looks in this light to be cherry-red lipstick. Not that I look much better. But it eases the tension.

 

Part Four

So to make a long story short, the nut plot of “In Every Life” is this: Richard Hathaway was a cutthroat businessman all his life, until his beloved wife, Florence, died. In a fit of “you can’t take it with you,” Richard lost it and became what they call a Mad Philanthropist, which meant he started spreading his money around and funding whatever bizarre idea appealed to him. This made the town of Ferndale a magnet for gold diggers, entrepreneurs, and shady operations looking for a respectable cover. In the meantime, Richard Hathaway spread something else around– I think he’s now on Wife #7?– and has about a million kids.

That’s me. I’m one of the kids, Luke Hathaway. My character’s a thrillseeker. He likes wine, women, fast cars, and more women. I have at least two illegitimate children. One of ‘em moved away when his mom’s actress wanted to bump herself up to a movie career; the other one is on recurring status and occasionally appears like a fifteen-year-old set decoration to pout and scream at me.

Ryan Markey plays Andrew Starr, who I guess is unrelated to Brenda but is also a hotshot reporter. He’s out to uncover the dark side of my onscreen brother, Brian Hathaway, who is addicted to gambling and is apparently this season’s social-issue story. He found out through his former girlfriend, Ellen, who is now of course Brian Hathaway’s girlfriend. They had a sweet little love story, and once she had Brian in her clutches, Ellen immediately called her ex and said “Have I got a scoop for you!” Thus Andrew Starr’s entry into “In Every Life.” And I guess every life includes mine.

 

Part Three

“Are you gay?”

The question comes from a girl in an “I Heart Marriage Equality” T-shirt, such a bright neon shade of pink that I think my retinas are going to burn out just looking at her. And luckily her question is not directed toward me, but at Ryan Markey, who looks like he’s just been hit with an arrow. Poor schmuck. These fan Q&As can be brutal.

 

In Defense of Condoms

adult content warning – as if the title wasn’t an indicator!

please note this IS fiction. Any resemblance to anyone the author knows (in Biblical or other senses) in real life is purely coincidental.

They say condoms aren’t sexy.

 

Part Two

So when I got an agent the first thing he said to me was Gordon, you look like a star, but your name has to go. So from Gordon Solomon I became Jordan Sullivan and now I’m a star. Kind of. To tell you the truth, being on a soap is the closest thing to a regular old day job you can get. It’s just like the temp gig I had over at the Accounting Capital of the World right out of college, only we get up earlier, work longer, and deal with less interesting material. I’m exaggerating, but ‘it really is a daily grind’ is my point.

So you know, we go home exhausted some nights, and some nights we go out for drinks as co-workers. This is one of those nights, when we just ignore the paparazzi and let down our hair.

 

Part One

when I first notice, it’s a Monday. It’s six a.m., and we’re all bleary-eyed, trying to shake off whatever ruckus the weekend caused and get our heads back into the game. Me, I had an interview yesterday that felt a lot more like running an obstacle course. After that, all I wanted to do was hit the showers, but no, we had to go from that straight into a photoshoot. And the hairdresser’s DOG was there, no joke, right behind the camera, yipping and yapping and scaring the bejesus out of me right when the shutter clicked. Add that to someone’s perfume making me want to sneeze and I must have snapped some good pics, my ears perking up and my nose twitching.

But Monday’s a workday, so all of that goes by the wayside. We’re in makeup, trying to memorize our lines. I have a scene with Mark today. He and I are fighting over the girl. Look, I know the face I have to put on for the magazines. We love the storylines, we love our characters, we really care about the state of daytime drama. It’s bullshit. I’m sorry, I really do love my job, but let’s face it. Luke Hathaway is as far from a real person as you’re going to get. I mean, “I swear I’ll do everything in my power to stop you”? For real? People don’t say that these days even if they mean it.

But people do watch it, and that means I’m getting my face powdered up and mouthing “everything in my power” over and over with my caffeine-starved Monday morning brain. My kingdom for a cup of tea, swear to God.

So this is when I notice it, right? It’s when Ryan turns the page of his script and finds the paper isn’t really willing to comply. So he scrunches up his forehead– and I see this all out of the corner of my eye, since I have to look away to get the eye makeup (yes, they give us eye makeup, but I digress)– and he finally licks his forefinger and flips the page up.

And his face gets this very serene, pleased look on it. I think to myself, just an idle thought in the corner of my mind, if I were a photographer, I’d want to shoot him like this. Because with his eyes angled down like that and a bit of blush on his cheek like that he really looks almost like something out of another world. Just really fucking beautiful. And then I think about something else again.

It’s maybe a half-hour later when we’re well into shooting and I realize I’m still framing him in my head, getting good camera angles, appreciating the way he tilts his head and the heaviness in his stride. I’m filming a documentary on Ryan Markey in my head, and I’m the director and the cameraman. It’s bizarre.

I’ve worked with Ryan for what, about three months now? We don’t know each other that well, but mostly that’s because we haven’t shot together. He’s starting to get tangentially involved with the Hathaway clan– well, “Andrew Starr” is… and so now we’re shooting at the same time of day if not in the same scenes yet. This is the closest I’ve gotten to him.

I’m not quite sure I know what it means, if it means anything. But I come away from the day with the feeling that if nothing else, Ryan Markey’s a nice thing to look at. If only I didn’t have this feeling in the pit of my stomach that that’s not all there is to it.

 

Skipping Daydream

Written from a song prompt and minor revisions made. Don’t really know what this is but the image tickles me.

The streets hop with agitated energy. There’s a traffic jam in the rotary. Was there a car crash? I figure someone’s overheated, because everyone’s overheated today. The jam goes right around the fountain, and the drivers all look at it kind of jealously, wishing they could abandon their cars and toss off their ties and jackets and go for a wild naked romp under the water’s frigid sprinkles.

 

Old Dogs

I hate this, it gets didactic at the end, but I wanted to put it up. maybe will revise it.

From Seventh Sanctum’s Quick Story Generator

The theme of this story: dark character study. The main character: stressed politician. The major event of the story: failure.

What happened in the movies didn’t happen here. That’s what Mac had learned long ago, in his first year in the legislature.