The Muse

by Stephen Monaco

  "No, just wanted to give you time to work. It's not exactly a secret that George pulled strings to get you this gig and that Nicky isn't happy with anything you've produced. She's pretty much told everyone except maybe the Pope and the President that she hates your work. Some people think she hates you because you're better than her. You got people talking, which isn't always a bad thing in this town." He gently grabbed her chin and turned it so she was looking at him. "So what ya got?"

  She sighed. "I've got nothing. I can't draw anything right in Nicky's eyes. I think I'm gonna have to talk to George and go completely around Nicky. Show him, and maybe he'll see something in them she doesn't."

  Gitch flipped through her stack of sketches. "I hate to say it, girl, but the walking Cheeto's right. These are pretty ordinary. This is your main guy, right? The hero? He's gotta have a thing that makes him stand out. Indiana Jones, with the Fedora, had a look that you recognized, even in silhouette. Vito Corleone, Harry Potter, Tony Stark, they all had a look. Freaking Princess Leia had that awful hair, but you instantly knew it was her. You gotta give these characters something unique that screams these people are different. It doesn't only have to be clothes. You can do it with makeup or hair too. It's all part of their 'look'"

  Some people are special, but being special comes at a cost.

  She winced, again.

  "What's wrong?" Gitch asked.

  "Nothing. Nothing really. Long day, and I think I'm getting a migraine."

  Gitch frowned. "Okay. I'll let you work. We need to go for a drink. Not a dive bar this time, though. I'm still having nightmares about my feet sticking to that nasty carpet. And ugghhhh, that stale smoke smell. I swear to Cher, I feel like I need a shower just thinking about it."

  She nodded. "Ya, I'll call you."

  She spent the next six hours making sketch after sketch of the characters. Several of the drawings added to the pile of wadded paper on the floor around her. A few she kept despite the fact that something about them still didn't feel quite right. She hated to do it, but she thought she might have to go beg for Nicky's help. If she would just help her understand what to look for in the script to make the characters memorable, that was all that she needed. A little push in the right direction. Maybe Nicky was right, maybe school focused too much on design theory and not enough how to apply it. She wished she had a bottle of vodka, gin, whatever, stashed in her desk.

  "I gotta do it. I've gotta just ask for help on this one. Once she teaches me, I'll be set and able to figure it out on my own from there."

  Go talk to her.

  Asia gathered up her stack of drawings and headed to Nicky's office. The door was closed, and the shades pulled shut, but a little light leaked under the door and between the slats on the blinds. She tapped on the office door. No response. She knocked harder.

  "Oh, shit, who's here," someone inside said.

  It sounded like George.

  Asia flung the door open. George was there. He was finishing buttoning his pants. He didn't have a shirt on. Nicky was sprawled, naked on her couch. She made eye contact with Asia and smirked.

  "It's not what it looks like," George said. "We...uh... I didn't know Nicky was expecting visitors."

  Nicky lit a cigarette and blew a cloud of smoke into the room. "What's wrong, Barbie? Never seen a couple of people fucking before? No, of course, you haven't. I bet you're frigid as hell. Brrrrr! I can feel the ice from here!" She cackled and blew another cloud of smoke. "Well, sweetheart, this is what it looks like when a real woman gets screwed."

  George didn't make eye contact and pushed past her out of the room. Before she could stop herself, she imagined a whip grabbing him by the ankles, sending him sprawling onto the floor. The whip uncurled itself from his ankles. It popped like a firecracker exploding in a closed room. Then it snapped down across his bare back. He screamed, and his back bowed. The skin peeled back in a line from his shoulder blade to his pants line. Angry and red. Blood began to fill in the gash.

  The whip snapped again. This time another line split open intersecting the first one like a giant red cross. A third time. And a fourth. Each crack of the whip exposed a new line of muscle. Some cut to the bone. George screamed in agony. His back arched. His lips pulled back and his teeth clenched together.

  "What are you doing!" Nicky yelled. She got up off the couch and ran toward Asia.

  "Sit down, bitch!" Asia screamed back. Whips wrapped around Nicky's hands and feet. They pulled her legs and arms apart as if suspended in the air like a giant X. "You're next."

  Asia imagined herself shrouded in flames. The flames didn't burn her. They fueled her rage. She was clothed only in flames. They wrapped around her and licked at her bare breasts. "This could've been yours," she hissed at George. The flames intensified, burning white hot. Her eyes turned black as coal. Unblinking. Empty and skeletal.

  "I... I... Who are you?"

  Bubbling rage erupted inside Asia. How dare he pretend like he didn't know her! How dare he deny her. The bastard!

  She popped the whip again. This time it wrapped around his neck.

  "Aghhh." He choked out a couple other sounds, unable to struggle against the whip. It slithered around his neck like a snake working its way up a tree.

  "Let him go!" Nicky yelled, struggling against her bindings.

  "Aghhh. Aghhhhhhh."

  Asia imagined the whips tightening and his face flushing from lack of oxygen. His eyes bulged. His lips turned deep red. His back bowed, thrusting his chest forward. She wrapped the whip tighter. He fell limp. The whips unraveled, and he dropped to the floor.

  "Noooo! Michael!" Nicky cried.

  Asia released the whips holding her. Nicky rushed to George's side, picking up his head and pressing it against her.

  Asia imagined a flaming whip in her hand. She snapped it, and it tore across Nicky's chest, catching the corner of her chin. The heat cauterized the wounds, turning them a sickening shade of black. Asia smelled the burning flesh. Whiteness tugged at the corners of her vision. She lashed out with the whip again, this time landing across Nicky's back; she wailed in agony.

  "How dare you!" Asia screamed.

  Nicky clung to George's body. Tears rolled down her cheeks. She cried. "Michael, Michael."

  Asia imagined Nicky holding a pistol to her own temple. The white cloud crowded in around her vision. She resisted, but knew ultimately, she had to succumb. She felt the trigger pull and the gun roar before she let the white overtake her.

  * * * *

  Asia blinked her eyes. The sun was shining in her bedroom windows. A bird chirped outside. She was still in the clothes she was wearing the day before. Her head throbbed as she tried to piece together her memories from the night before. She remembered she'd caught Nicky having sex with George, but the rest of it was a blur of white and red. She thought she must've been into the vodka or tequila or something after she got home.

  She rolled over, and a colored pencil poked her in the back. She sat up. Her laptop was next to her, on top of it were several character sketches. They were full costume designs. They were amazing. "Screw Nicky, I'm taking these straight to the director," she thought.

  After showering, she flipped on the morning news. A reporter stood outside Blackrock studios, a grim look on his face. He said, "This morning, police are investigating two deaths at Blackrock Pictures. Costume Director Nicky O'Brien appears to have killed her boyfriend, Michael Jenkins, during fetish style sex and then killed herself. Police are unsure at this point if the first death was accidental or a homicide. We're told a statement from President of Talent Acquisitions, George Collins is forthcoming."

  The bird outside the window stopped chirping, and a crow landed on her deck railing. It stepped slowly across the rail and turned toward her. Its eye flickered like a television screen coming on. Asia's legs failed. She fell to her knees on the hardwood floor, sending a jolt through her.

  Suddenly, the memories flooded back. She remembered everything. The whips, the gun
, even the anger and letting the white rage take hold of her. She remembered George in Nicky's office. She heard his voice. She saw him. He was buttoning his pants.

  You just needed a little nudge. You saw what you needed to see. By the way, those drawings are exceptional. Greatness awaits. You're welcome.