Deadman, A Dark Romance [Part 1 Completed - Nanowrimo Project]

The Dead Man

Sindee hated Mondays. They were always so jarring. Spending all weekend in the dark of her apartment with her animals, then being thrust into the one-hundred-and-fifty thousand watts of light on the movie set, it was quite hell. Being a PA didn't help either. The shit always rolls down hill. Monday's were always full of shit.

Sindee had discovered that waiting to solve problems as they happened was suicide. He solution was to set her watch one hour ahead of the actual time, so that if there was a problem, she would catch it before any oh her higher ups had a chance to catch wind of it. Her problem this morning was she had a missing actor, a man named Jimmy Mason.

He had not signed into the call sheet. This meant only a few possibilities: One, he was lost wondering around the studio lot somewhere. Two, he had forgotten to check in and went straight to costumes and makeup. Three, he was dead. If it was option one or two, when Sindee got her hands on him, it he would be wishing it was number three.

Sindee Briskly walked through the empty costuming department before making her way to makeup. Inside the makeup artists were setting up their kits at their stations. Since each artist used their own kits, they had more setup to do than costuming. If Sindee's lost actor was wonder about. there was a good chance he would end up here.

"Excuse me," said Sindee, "I'm looking for and actor."

"If you wait about forty five minutes, you'll have your pick of them," said Sheila. A couple peopled snicked at the joke, almost everyone smiled.

Sindee didn't like being the butt of a joke, and her face was showing it. One of the older ladies named Flo took notice before any one else.

"What's his name, honey?" Asked Flo.

"Jimmy Mason," said Sindee. At the sound of his name, everyone in the room began to hum to each other and giggle.

"You want the dead man," said Sheila.

Was that a necrophilia joke? Did Sheila find out?

"The who?" Asked Sindee, who was getting more visibly annoyed. 

"Jimmy," said Flo, "that's his nickname, the dead man. He only plays dead bodies."

A warm flushing feeling came over Sindee. She found it hard to speak.

"Well is this dead man," oh, the feeling of saying such a thing out loud, "often late for work?"

"Well, not in the way you think," said Flo, "He... well... he kind of... naturally looks like he's dead. So... He's real easy to do make up for, so he always goes last."

"Yeah," said Shelia, "you know, in case of a crunch. We can take as much or as little time as we want with him."

A man who looks like he's dead... naturally. Oh my god, thought Sindee. She was feeling more than warm now, she was feeling damp. A sudden insecurity came over her. She wondered if anyone could notice the tight denim clam digger jeans becoming darker around her crotch area. She moved the clip board down to waist level, just in case. 

Flow noticed Sindee's heavy breathing. "Don't worry," she said, "Jimmy's a professional. He made millions of pictures, never missed a day in his life. If he ever get's replaced with one of those rubber manikins, it will be over his dead body."

Sindee took several deep breaths.

"Do you want us to tell him to come see you if we see him, Honey?" Asked Flo.

"Um..." God, why is talking so hard right now? Shut up, you know why, you idiot. Sindee took another deep breath. "No... That's okay. If he's a professional like you say, there should be no problem."