HELL OF A DEAL, a supernatural satire

Twenty Four

24

Saturday night Al picked up Ashlyn at her parents' house. It was in a limousine paid for by the studio, and a deductible business expense.

Ashlyn had purchased a shimmering silver low-cut gown that appeared more expensive than she could possibly afford on her salary. She sparkled from the tiny reflectors woven throughout the sheer fabric. It was devastating how the light wrapped around her, and yet the dress revealed so much of her arms, shoulders and back that one couldn't focus purely on the garment.

Al jumped from the limo to hand Ashlyn a pink rose, and to kiss her delicate hand.

Ashlyn smiled with delight, and she slid into the limousine.

The line of cars crept slowly to the front entrance of the auditorium, and numerous flashes ricocheted in through the windows each time another vehicle stopped and unloaded its cargo of celebrities.

Al reached and squeezed Ashlyn's hand. "Are you ready?"

Ashlyn nodded her head in a rapid burst.

"Think poise and grace. That's all they want."

Ashlyn closed her eyes, and she inhaled deeply. When their limo arrived at the front for the paparazzi Al opened the door, and he stepped out first.

Al waved directly at the photographers. With a grand sweep of his hands he directed their attention to the unknown girl emerging onto the red carpet for the very first time.

Ashlyn radiated innocence and sexiness entwined, and she provoked quite a flurry of flash photography.

Al milked their moment, not moving on right away, and he urged Ashlyn to turn slowly at various angles toward the press. "Turn slightly. And again. Keep smiling. All right. Let's not hold up the show."

Al and Ashlyn strolled inside the theater entrance together as random flashes popped behind them.

The evening seemed long and tedious to Smith. Al drank to keep in spirits. He had attended so many of these obligatory functions that the magic had been long dispelled.

Ashlyn gawked at various personalities sitting at the nearby tables. Al told hushed jokes at their expense.

Finally Al's movie was mentioned by the speaker on stage. When the winner was revealed Fight 'Em Over There took the win, and the television cameras panned over to the Smith table.

"Smile," he said to all.

Ashlyn waved at the sound designer who rose up in his black tuxedo, his long dark hair tied in a ponytail behind him.

Grinning uncontrollably the audio man ran up on stage for his moment in the spotlight.

Al shook hands with the film's director. "Excellent," he said.

The soundman's speech rolled on without incident. The award was accepted.

Ashlyn grabbed Al's hand. "Congratulations."

"Thank you."

The excitement at Al's table subsided. The award was passed around, and each guest took a turn inspecting the crystal statue.

Al felt pressure shoot up inside, and he had to excuse himself. He leaned in toward Ashlyn's ear. "I'm gonna go to the little boy's room."

"Okay." Ashlyn peered out at heartthrob Billy Xavier who had smiled back at her from his adjacent table.

The restroom off the lobby was deserted but for Al. He did his business at the long line of urinals. He washed his hands, and he heard the door squeak open behind him.