HELL OF A DEAL, a supernatural satire

Twenty Seven

27

A month later Ashlyn Krumb finally walked back into Al Smith Jr.'s office. She showed no smile, and she appeared stiff in her dark business suit. Her main reason for coming in was to take care of the medical bills that had arrived from Canada, over in a different department of the studio.

Ashlyn's voice rasped like sandpaper. "Hi Al."

Al wasn't sure if Ashlyn had taken up smoking or if her vocal chords had been damaged permanently somehow.

"Ashlyn, sit here." Al jumped up, behind his desk. He motioned his hand toward his refrigerator. "Would you like anything to drink?"

"No. I just thought I should come in." Her eyes seemed spacey and they moved slowly.

Al sat. "What have you been doing?"

"Just getting better." Her face showed one last lump from a hematoma on her left cheek. She'd covered it with make-up to lighten the darkness, but her face was still not ready to be photographed in a professional context.

"You're looking spectacular," Al said.

"Thank you."

Ashlyn seemed so uncomfortable before him that Al didn't want to prolong her stay.

Ashlyn looked away. "You were right."

"No, you don't—"

"About me recovering. It looks like I'll be okay after all." Her eyes seemed vacant, hollow, and her body wanted only to escape the room forever.

"It's a damned shame it worked out this way, Ashlyn. I should never have even given Seaford that deal in the first place."

Ashlyn jerked negatively. "No. It's a learning experience. And besides, I'm going to be in Lou's next movie."

"His next movie?" Al was startled.

"Yeah. It's with a different studio."

"I had no idea."

"I should really go." Ashlyn's face ground with anguish.

"Am I keeping you?" Al stirred in his chair.

"No."

"Then why go?"

Ashlyn bit her fingernail. "I feel like I'm suffocating."

"Let me take you to lunch? I miss you, Ashlyn."

"No. No. I have to go." Ashlyn stood quickly, and she retreated back from the desk one step. Her eyes were heavy and moist.

"What's the matter Ashlyn? Please? I just want to make it better?"

"I'm very confused." She jerked about.

"Why? Why? Please?"

Ashlyn turned away, and she stepped over to the windows.

"No?" Al moved lightly in pursuit of her. "I have a new network series," he said. "Do you want to hear about it?"

She shrugged, and she wiped her eyes with a tissue. With a small compact mirror she touched up her makeup.

Al circled around to his windows. "All right. It's called Stories of Hope."

"It's on TV?"

"In the fall."

"What is it?"

Al leaned against the safety glass, and he caught her eye. "They find the most hope-filled stories from around the world, and then they re-enact them each week."

"Okay." She smiled briefly.

"You could probably appear in a couple of episodes, if you wanted to?"

Her head shook, almost imperceptibly. "My agent said to stay away from television if they still want me in features."

"Oh. You have an agent now. Okay. It's your call."

"But thank you, Al. For everything."

"Thank you."

Ashlyn turned, and she faced him full on. She shot two steps forward, and she wrapped her arms around him, kissed him on the lips hard. Then she walked out of his office.

Ashlyn Krumb's face eventually healed. Her mind, however, did not. Ashlyn was no longer sprightly, no longer happy, and no longer comfortable being near Al. Neither of them knew why. Eventually they lost touch altogether.

Anna Holt tapped on Al Smith Jr.'s sanctuary door. "Hello? Mr. Smith?"

"Yes, Anna. What is it?"

Anna stepped into the office sheepishly. "Have you heard from your father?" She forced up a smile.

"No. No I haven't."

"It's just, it's his birthday today."

"Oh my God. I forgot all about it."

"And I just wanted to wish him a happy birthday. It's been so long he's been gone."

"That's very considerate, Anna."

"If you talk to him, could you ask him to just give a call? I'd like to know that he's all right."

"If he calls in, I will let him know."

"Thank you."

"Thank you."

Anna stepped to the doorway, but paused. "I just miss talking to him." She disappeared from Al's line of sight.

Al drove alone to the restaurant where he had taken Ashlyn Krumb out dancing. He ate his salad alone, followed by a slice of triple chocolate cake. He glided over to the ballroom, and he absorbed the sounds of the salsa band, but he did not dance.

Al returned to his vehicle, and he drove back to his house for an early night's sleep. He started feeling old again.