Blankish Slates | Moonfall Vol. II

The Meal

Light and shadows danced madly across the walls of the living room as Jimmy erratically flipped through the channels of the oversized TV. Jerry stood off to side to avoid the pulsating glare of the screen in the dark room as he ran through tasks on his tablet. There was little downtime when he worked at Crystal Entertainment, but after leaving to continue as Jimmy's personal assistant, he found himself needing to kill time with the lack of work that required his attention.

The channel surfing grew increasingly agitated until Jimmy settled on a channel and let out a disgusted groan. Jerry peeked at the TV to find Celeste Cassidy in the midst of an interview with Walter Kilborn as part of a segment dubbed "The Rebirth of Crystal Entertainment."

"Rebirth my ass," Jimmy complained. "I gave her a perfectly good company and she's talking about it like it was on its last leg. Something has to die before it can be reborn."

"This does seem to be quite the exaggeration," Jerry commented.

"I'm not gonna watch this garbage," Jimmy declared. With a frustrated growl, he flipped the channel to an elaborate screensaver of a simulated lightning storm before tossing the remote aside. He didn't care how on the nose it was. It was an accurate reflection of his mood.

It wasn't until the fourth clash of lightning that Jerry looked over his tablet and realized Jimmy was staring at him. He let out a nervous laugh as he became self-conscious under the wolf's watchful eyes.

"Hey Jerry, any new messages?"

Dread started to creep up Jerry's body like he was sinking in quicksand made of the stuff. He went through the motions of switching over to the email tab, knowing there was nothing waiting for him there. The empty inbox confirmed his fears. He considered lying, but lies needed to be maintained, and Jimmy had been lied to enough.

"Nothing since the last few messages from this morning, sir," Jerry admitted.

"Could... could ya read them to me again anyway?"

Something inside Jerry plummeted after hearing that request. His eyes fell back onto the tablet only to find the inbox in the middle of an auto-refresh.

"Oh!" he said. A new email appeared in the inbox. "There's something here after all." He tapped the email without thinking and felt that quicksand pulling him down even faster as he read the message.

"What's it say?"

"It's, um... ah... a message from Lester McCray... from the Majestic." Jerry's eyes flickered back and forth from the tablet to Jimmy as if begging the wolf to let him off the hook. If Jimmy saw, he didn't react.

"Go on."

"He, uh... he says he has a position open... as his new assistant... and it's yours if you want it."

Jimmy's brows dropped in fury. "You tell that blubbery loser that he can assist my foot right up his ass!"

"I'll... let him know you're not interested."

"No!" Jimmy knocked back what was left in his glass, slammed it on the table, and pushed himself off the couch. Soon he was hovering over Jerry. "You tell him exactly what I said!"

Jerry could smell the whiskey on Jimmy's breath as he dictated the message to him. He wasn't satisfied until he saw Jerry send the message. Jimmy poured himself another drink and collapsed onto the couch, robe loose and nearly open, his drink perfectly balanced.

Seeing Jimmy sprawled out on that couch like that sent Jerry's mind into a spin and his heart into a sprint. The intimacy of the situation, that Jimmy was vulnerable and dependent on him. There was also Jimmy's lack of modesty, that the robe was open just enough give Jerry a good idea of what he was-or rather, wasn't-wearing underneath, the fact that Jerry hadn't needed to imagine what was under there since that night Moon seized the theater. The things they could get up to right now if they wanted to...