Lloyd blinked
rapidly. “Well, this is new.”
Once more, he’d ended
up in some new territory. Maybe he’d hit
his head harder than he thought; last he checked, he wore a hospital gown, not
his regular clothes. And last he checked
the world had other colors besides black and white.
He clutched his head. He never knew he’d see the world in black and
white so literally; not a single shade of gray stood before him. It looked as if everything around him had
been outlined on blank paper. And more
to the point, those black lines wobbled like the goo of a lava lamp.
So where was he
exactly? He couldn’t say he’d ever been
to a place made of lines, but he could at least make out the area’s purpose. He sat in a director’s chair behind a long
desk; a stage lay several feet before him, with colorless curtains hanging on
its left and right. Wires trailed from
Lloyd’s side of the room onto and past the stage, allowing each light to --
theoretically -- shine on. Tall studio
lamps stood behind him, balancing on needle-thin tripods; dozens of spotlights
hung from the rails above, as well. A
white screen had been propped up in the stage’s center, and far behind it Lloyd
spotted a few props -- chairs and cameras, planks and paint cans, even the
occasional boulder and tree.
Lloyd stroked his chin,
more amused than afraid. If I didn’t know any better, I’d say this
stage was going to be used for an audition.
But that would be silly. He
pressed a hand against the table, hoping that he could push right through to
its underside. Rats. For a second, I thought I
was a ghost.
Frustrated, he shuffled
the pages about on the table, spreading them until each one lay even. Still unreadable, of course. They looked like the work of a drunk who
called himself Rembrandt.
This world doesn’t seem particularly useful, Lloyd mused. But
there’s no sign of a door anywhere. So I
guess I’m stuck here? Maybe I should try
checking backstage? Or maybe I’ll have
to break out of here on my own?
But before he could
throw himself at the nearest wall, Lloyd looked back at the stage. Footsteps -- from a light body, but treading
heavily nonetheless -- echoed into his ear.
“Is someone there?” he called out.
“Y-yeah, it’s me. Yer ready down there, aren’t ya?”
Lloyd reared back a
bit. That voice -- that southern
accent…it had to be her. But why
here? Why now?
“Did ya hear me? I said are ya ready?”
“Um…yeah. You can come out anytime you like.” He waved for her to come out.
A sigh drifted from
behind the curtain. Seconds later, she
emerged -- Lloyd’s blonde savior, Trixie.
“Sorry about that. I’m a little
nervous, ya know,” she admitted. She
scratched at her head with her free hand, and pressed the other -- one
clutching a handful of blue sheets -- against her hip. “It’s not like I’ve ever done this before.”
“And what exactly is
‘this’ supposed to be?”
Trixie leaned
forward. “What’s that supposed to
mean? Yer the one who called me here!”
“I am?”
“Yeah! Ya don’t remember? Ya said ya wanted me to audition, so here I
am!”
Lloyd tilted his head
and smiled wearily. I don’t remember that at all, actually…but I’d better not tell her that
right now. Maybe it’s for the best if I
play along; she seems like the type of person who’ll resort to violence if
things don’t go her way. At least, if
her threats of death by surfboard are to be believed.
Trixie let out a sigh
and scratched at her head again.
“Sorry. I shouldn’t be lashing
out at ya like that.”
“Don’t worry. I’ve taken much greater abuse from women in
the past.”
“That doesn’t sound too
fun.”
“It is when they’re
chasing you. But that’s enough of
that.” Lloyd covered his mouth in
contemplation. “If you’re here for an
‘audition,’ then let’s see what you can do.
Entertain me, my dear.”
Trixie nodded
jerkily. “Uh, okay, right. So, first…”
Her eyes darted about the room before focusing on Lloyd -- and even
then, she couldn’t make eye contact.
“Uh, I should introduce myself first, shouldn’t I?”
Didn’t we already do that? Wait
-- does she not remember? Or could it be
that this Trixie and the one back in that hospital room are different people? He leaned forward expectantly. There’s
no sense in trying to guess; I’ll just have to follow this trail wherever it
may lead. “Go ahead,
sweetheart. Tell all.”
“Gotcha. So…um…I’m Trixie Walters, and I’m here for
the audition. I-I know I’m kinda looking
like a moron up here, but I hope I’m good enough to win ya over.” Finding a bit of nerve, she nodded bravely at
Lloyd. “I’m counting on ya. Make me a star!”
Ka-WHOOSH!
A ball of blue gas
emerged from Trixie’s chest -- and with it came a fish-shaped mask. While the average flounder could probably
give Lloyd nightmares, the mask looked downright cuddly; it stared back at him
with a cartoonish, dimple-faced grin.
Its skin was little more than a solid yellow canvas, made out of some
dull plastic material. Past its fins, he
spotted plenty of white ribbons extending from its edges, and wrapping themselves
around the gas ball.
“Whoa! That’s a little disturbing!” Lloyd blurted,
pulling his hands over his face.
“What is?” But before she could get an answer, Trixie
hung her head. “Crap. Don’t tell me yer gonna boot me off
stage. Did I screw up already? Aw, dammit -- I knew this wasn’t gonna
work…” As she spoke, a quartet of stars
started hovering around the masked ball.
Only one of them shone brightly -- and even then just its left
half. The other three, dimmed, merely
orbited about.
“U-uh, nothing! Never you mind, my dear!” Lloyd practically
shouted. While Trixie tried to find even
a shred of courage, he turned aside and covered his mouth. So it
looks like she can’t see those things hanging over her chest. And on top of that, she’s acting like this is
the first time we’ve met. Plus she seems
rather willing to put me in a seat of power. He looked at his chair. It
looks like under the circumstances, I am.
But what to do with that power…?
He stared at the
half-filled star. Just looking at it
made him uneasy; it blinked on and off, on and off like hazard lights. Not that the other stars made him feel any
more comfortable. Their motion seemed to
drag the more they spun, and at times they almost looked ready to wobble out of
line and fall to the ground. Even that
mask changed; its sunny smile gave way to a frown more fretful than anything
Lloyd could ever make.
I’m pretty sure I don’t want to see what happens when all those stars
go dim. Is there any way for me to boost
them? Come on, Lloyd -- put that purple
head of yours to good use!
“Uh, are ya okay down
there?”
Lloyd turned back
toward Trixie and waved rapidly (hoping that she didn’t notice he’d started
sweating). “Fine and dandy, thank you
Mandy!” he sang. “E-even though…you know,
you’re name’s not Mandy.”
“Uh, right. So does that mean ya still want me to try
out?”
“Try out…? O-oh, yes, of course! Don’t even think about leaving that stage
until you’ve made your stand! A woman as
passionate as you has GOT to be able to move me!”
“Ya think so?”
Lloyd shot her a
thumb-up. “Probably!”
“Uh, I guess that’s the
best I should hope for. But anyway,
thanks. I feel a little bit better now.”
But he didn’t need her
to tell him that. The half-filled star
shook, and suddenly brightened in full.
The mask shifted as well; its fretful frown turned into a…well, not a
smile, but it didn’t look as likely to have a heart attack. Lloyd pumped a fist into the air. Success! I managed to avert a -- hopefully
hypothetical -- disaster!
“You’re sure you’re
okay?” Trixie asked.
“Feeling fine,
milady.” In spite of Trixie’s skeptical
gaze (with a raised eyebrow for added suspicion!) Lloyd stroked his chin and
nodded. I see. So the better she feels,
the greater her star ranking. In which case,
all I have to do is compliment her, and she’ll be better off -- but what would
happen if I boosted the count to four stars?
He looked down at the papers on the table. And
just what might these do? Well, I
suppose I should start with what I can do, and improvise from there.
“Trixie. Your voice is delightful!” Lloyd
exclaimed. “Such volume! Such clarity!
And there’s something arguably erotic about your accent!”
“I-is that supposed to
make me feel better?”
“You mean it doesn’t?”
“Well…I…I dunno! Sorta!
Maybe a little!” Trixie turned
aside, her face reddening. “Nobody ever
really says I got a good voice or anything like that, so…it’s just weird,
hearing it from someone I never met.
So…I guess I’m trying to say that I appreciate it.” She turned back to him and glared
furiously. “But who the hell goes around
saying people have an erotic voice? Yer
brain broken or something, pal?”
That is probably the case,
Lloyd thought. But he cut his pondering
short; he’d managed to fill in another half-star, and the fish mask went from
slightly worried to a stoic stare. Looks like I’ve managed another step
forward. Now then, if I can just keep up
this pace -- presumably, without any sudden outside influences throttling me
out of this theologically complex experience -- then I --
--STAGE OFF--
“Hey, what
happened? Are ya dead?”
Lloyd rubbed his head;
no, he wasn’t dead, but for a moment he wished he was. His brain felt like it had an axe lodged
inside it. Was it because he’d imagined
that audition room? A delayed reaction
to his injury? Or --
“Sorry about that,”
said Trixie. “But ya were giving me this
weird stare, and ya weren’t saying a thing, so I thought ya froze up on
me. And, uh, I kinda hit ya in the
head. Sorry ‘bout that, pal.”
Lloyd shook his
head. “Think nothing of it,” he said
(though his pounding skull said otherwise).
“By the way, I don’t suppose you saw…well, any of that just now, did you?”
“Any of what?”
“Oh, nothing. I suppose I should save the explanation for
another time.”
“Yer not making much
sense, pal.”
Lloyd shook his head,
hoping to set the matter aside for now.
“At any rate, you must have hit me harder than you thought. Why, judging by your height and strength, I’d
wager you’re more Amazon than southern belle!”
Trixie furrowed her
brow. “I don’t have to take that from
some perverted dandy,” she argued. She
turned her back on Lloyd. “Jeez. And to think I was worried about ya. Had me all riled up…” She folded her arms. “I even lied and said I was family just to
stay past visiting hours! Ya know how
much trouble I could get in ‘cause o’ that, pal?”
Normally, Lloyd would
have fired off some hammy bit of dialogue or a nonsensical quip. But something in his gut told him to hold
off; he could feel an air about -- in the room, coming from Trixie, and even
around himself -- that he’d never sensed before. Was it the first sign of his splitting brain? No, it couldn’t be. His slapstick-induced attack had stopped
hurting ages ago; this sensation felt more pleasant than painful.
In spite of her anger,
Trixie turned an eye over her shoulder to Lloyd. “But I guess it was worth it. Somehow, talking to ya makes me feel a little
better.”
“Is that right?”
“Yeah. Don’t ask me why, though.” She looked at the door, and then at the
window. “Well, guess I’d better get
outta here. As long as yer okay, I can
sleep tonight.”
Lloyd stifled a
laugh. Apparently she only snored that
loudly during her little catnaps.
“Crap, how am I gonna
get outta here without making a scene? I
really don’t wanna crawl out the window -- then I’ll really look
suspicious.” She let loose a groan of
defeat. “Guess I got no choice. Ya mind if I sleep in here tonight?”
“I’ve no objections.”
“Seriously, do ya
always talk like that?”
“Do you?”
“…Touché.” Trixie flopped in the chair opposite Lloyd
once more; he could already see her eyelids starting to droop. “Man, what a day. Never woulda guessed I’d be saving a life
today.”
Lloyd leaned against
the headboard, letting the pillow massage his back. “I never would have guessed I’d be saved.”
Trixie nodded. “Lloyd?”
“What is it?”
“I’m glad yer all
right.”
“I suppose I’m just
lucky to have a guardian angel like you.”
He pressed a finger to his chin.
“Although if God was really looking out for me, I doubt a Ferris wheel
would have fallen on me in the first pla-”
He stared at
Trixie. Apparently, she’d fallen asleep
again.
“Oh, you’re not
listening to me rant. That’s kind of
depressing,” Lloyd mumbled to himself, hoping that a tear hadn’t formed in his
eye. But he shook that thought out of
his mind, and replaced it with memories of that audition room.
For a moment he thought
about wondering what it was exactly, but quickly stuffed it. No, he had a bigger focus -- namely, on the
effects it had on the real world. Not on
himself, of course. Trixie -- or some
version of her -- appeared in that room.
And then, the real Trixie seemed to change soon after. The woman he’d thought of as quick-tempered
but generally decent showed him an unusually kind gaze, and her voice had
softened a few degrees (compared to when they’d first met, at least). Was it just relief in seeing him alive and
well? Showing a bit of her true
self? Pity for the purple-haired
prince?
As all of those and
more ran through his head, Lloyd shut them down one by one. I have
a sneaking suspicion that none
of those have any impact. He covered
his mouth as his mind picked up speed. “Somehow, talking to ya makes me feel a
little better.” I don’t think there’s
anything I said beforehand that could have comforted her. I only had one chance to do that -- and that
was in the audition room.
What was it? But again, he
realized that wasn’t the question he needed to ask. Little by little, he formed a better inquiry
-- and as he did, a sly smile stretched across his face. Or
better yet, how do I use it to my advantage?
TO BE HEARTINUED...
TO BE HEARTINUED...
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