Phantasmic (A Sexy Romantic Comedy)

by Evie Long

  I did, however, find one site that would sell me a DVD copy of Out of the Shadows. I paid for it with my credit card, ordering it express shipping.

  After that I tried to do some work on my own screenplay but I was too distracted. There was no way to know if my dream guy actually really was Carlo Portino, until I saw the movie – but still, I couldn’t help but wonder.

  Then, suddenly I remembered the one place – only a few miles away – that might actually have more information. I grabbed my keys and headed out to the film library.

  After giving them my ID and practically letting them strip-search me, I was allowed into the cool, teal confines of the Motion Picture library where I filled out the necessary form and was handed a slim, old-looking file for “Carlo Portino.”

  I hurried back to an empty chair and spilled the file’s contents onto the table. There were a few yellowed clippings, one of which was Carlo’s obituary. I scanned it quickly and read that Carlo Portino, an up-and-comer who was recently cast in the upcoming flick Bounders, was found dead in his bungalow. He’d been shot by his lover, Audrey Czerny, whom he tried to kill by…stabbing…four…

  My heart pounded so fast I couldn’t see straight. I told myself to slow down and breathe as I reread that last part again: “…shot by his lover, Audrey Czerny, whom he TRIED TO KILL BY STABBING FOUR TIMES!”

  I stood up, aghast. I looked around, everyone in the library was busy working quietly. So I sat back down, my heart racing.

  I was dumbstruck.

  This was my dream lover? A crazy, jealous murderer?

  I finished the other articles and learned that apparently Carlo been obsessed with his lover, Audrey Czerny, who was sleeping with another man – the director of the movie they were both working on, “Bounders.”

  And this same director had just fired Carlo from the picture that very day. So after weeks of obsessing over Audrey, Carlo finally snapped and when she came over to break up with him, he stabbed her repeatedly. But she was able to grab her gun and shoot him before he could kill her.

  So my ghost lover was a psycho killer. Just my luck.

  I turned in another form and got the file on Audrey Czerny – which had a few clippings, most of which detailed her near-death experience at the hands of her boyfriend, Carlo Portino.

  Sadly, it seemed that her career never took off and she died, not long after Carlo, of suicide.

  I stared at her photo which showed a pretty, young woman who looked older than her age – probably due to the unflattering hairstyles of yesteryear.

  And as I studied her photo, I couldn’t help but feel bad that she wasn’t around in today’s Hollywood – where a story like hers would have sent her career soaring. At the very least she’d have had her own reality show: The ‘MY BOYFRIEND TRIED TO KILL ME BUT NOW IT’S TIME TO START DATING AGAIN AND COVER UP MY STABBING SCARS MAKEOVER SHOW’ or something.

  I put the clippings back into her file and pushed it aside. Holding my head in my hands, I told myself again and again that just because this guy’s scripts were in my new house, that didn’t mean that his ghost was there too. It could all just be some weird dream phenomenon that felt really real and left hickeys on my neck.

  I returned all the files to the front desk and went to meet Lilly for lunch at the El Torito in Beverly Hills – but feeling as confused as I did, I decided to walk. Of course I couldn’t tell Lilly about any of this as she already thought I was crazy enough for talking about my dream guy. If I now told her he was not only REAL, but also a MURDERER, she might have me committed. And at this point I wouldn’t really blame her.

  CHAPTER 9

  “What do you mean your ghost lover is real? And a murderer? Are you nuts?” Lilly asked.

  Okay, yes, I told her. I guess I just find it hard to keep secrets from her. Something about her judgementalness and critical attitude always made me want to confess all my lunacy - like maybe she could offer me absolution or something.

  In this case, however, she offered me nothing but a roll of the eyes and scornful look. So I decided to explain it all very maturely and rationally without whining at all.

  “Lillyyyy, listennn." (Okay the whine was still there.) "I’m telling you, the guy I dreamed about was real! He told me his name was Carlo and then I found a box full of stuff belonging to a guy named Carlo! Conicidence? I think not!”

  “Pfft,” she scoffed, taking a decisive sip of her iced tea.

  “There are things in this world that we just don’t understand,” I said mystically.

  She rolled her eyes again. “So how did you even find this box? Don’t tell me you went up into the attic.”

  “Pfft. Of course not. I got my neighbor to do it.”

  “The cute one?”

  “Yeah.”

  “And?”

  “Nothing. He has a girlfriend who’s modelishly beautiful with huge boobs.”

  “But how big are her brains?” she asked pointedly.

  “Mmn, I don’t know. Probably brain-sized,” I shrugged. I shoveled some extra guacamole onto my chip and into my open maw. I never really bought into that whole ‘men really love a girl with a big brains’ thing – and even if they did, I really wasn’t so sure how big my own brain was – so really it was moot.

  She rolled her eyes and took another sip of her tea, frowning.

  “What?” I asked, through another mouthful of cheesy goodness.

  “I don’t want to encourage your…delusions. But you know my grandmother used to be a costumer – she worked at practically every movie studio at one point or another. Maybe you should talk to her. About your ghost.”

  “Really?” I swallowed hard and took a sip of soda.

  Lilly shrugged. “She might have known the guy – and if she did, she’d probably remember him, him being a murderer and all.”

  “Wow! That would be great!” I said. “But I mean…she’s alive?”

  “No,” Lilly said snarkily. “I’m putting you in touch with ANOTHER GHOST. Of course she’s alive. She’s really old, but she’s still pretty sharp – for the most part.”

  I nodded excitedly.

  “I’ll talk to her and if she knows anything, we can go visit her this weekend.”

  “Yay.”

  CHAPTER 10

  I had to admit I was a little scared to go home, now that I knew my roommate was a killer. I thought about asking Lilly if I could sleep over, but I didn’t think her boyfriend Scott would want me there.

  So go home I did, and I forced myself to work on my script - comforted by the thought that I hadn’t seen Carlo all day.

  Maybe he’d moved on.

  But still, any sound I heard made me jump.

  I was just falling asleep when I felt a weight pushing down the mattress next to me, to my right. “Trevor,” I said, too tired to turn my head. “Get down.”

  But upon hearing his name Trevor started scratching behind his ear…on my left.

  “Uh oh,” I said softly, as Carlo leaned down over me, spreading my lips with his tongue. Kissing me. Sucking on my lower lip.

  “Oh no…no….” I was partly turned on, partly afraid for my life. “I can’t do this.”

  “Yes you can,” he breathed. His low, raspy voice sounded like a cat purring in my ear. “All you have to do is…”

  A moan escaped from deep within my throat as he proceeded to lick and nibble my earlobe causing me to shiver in serious ecstasy.

  Then he licked his way down my neck, pausing at my shoulder which he kissed with the gentlest of butterfly kisses. His hand reached up under my tee shirt and caressed my breasts.

  I sighed. Moaned. Unable to stop myself. My breathing grew loud and ragged as his hand moved down between my legs.

  “You’re so wet,” he said, his low voice making me even wetter.

  “Oh no…” I said, trying to sit up. But he pushed me back down and crawled on top of me entering me with a powerful thrust. I gasped. “Ooohhh. Yessss….”

  “Yes,” he repeated. “
Yes.”

  “Aahhhh,” I shivered, trying to catch my breath. “Carlo…I can’t do this anymore,” I said. But my voice, ragged with spasms, probably sounded less than convincing.

  Afterwards, he lay next to me, holding me and stroking my hair as I panted. “Really, you can’t do this. You can’t come back here.”

  “But I live here,” he said, his voice enveloping me like a silky kimono.

  “No. You don’t. Live. I mean…”

  His arm was stroking me from my neck to my belly. I was growing so tired.

  I conked out and awoke ten hours later feeling totally relaxed. Even though the phone was practically ringing off the hook.

  “Arden! She remembers him!”

  “What? Who?

  “My grandma - she remembers him. We’re going to talk to her. Get dressed and be ready in twenty minutes.”

  Lilly hung up before I could argue.

  CHAPTER 11

  Twenty minutes later Lilly was outside, honking in an irritating manner.

  I got into the car.

  “You look happy,” she said.

  I shrugged nonchalantly.

  “Oh my gosh! You did it, didn’t you! You slept with the psycho ghost lover! Again! You really have some serious self-esteem issues!”

  I stared out the window, not answering as she backed out, driving in her jerky, stop and start manner. By the time we reached her grandmother’s I’d be lucky if I didn’t lose my lunch. Or actually my breakfast. Actually all I’d had was a few sips of coffee so maybe I’d be okay.

  As we drove off, I saw my cute neighbor sitting on the stoop of his house, drinking a mug of coffee and sketching. His dog was sniffing around nearby.

  He saw me in the car and nodded. (The cute neighbor not the dog.) Then his modelesque, blonde girlfriend walked out and sat down behind him, snaking her arms underneath his. She sat, holding his chest, her head leaning into his. The two of them looked like a Calvin Klein ad. Eternity-ty-ty-ty-ty

  Ugh - must be nice.

  We got to Lilly’s grandmother’s place about 18 minutes later and headed up the door of a red brick apartment building in Beverly Hills Adjacent. As we entered the lobby I realized it was actually an old age home rather than an apartment, so I nodded and smiled at the various oldsters who were watching us as we walked in.

  I followed Lilly into the elevator and up to the 3 floor to room 312. Lilly knocked loudly on the door several times until her Grandma Rosa finally opened it up.

  “Hi Grandma!” Lilly said loudly, hugging the little gray haired woman who was standing in the doorway.

  “Come in, Come in!” Grandma Rosa ordered, motioning with her hand and heading inside. We trailed behind her into the room at a snail’s pace.

  When we were all seated in the small, doily covered living area, Lilly turned to Grandma Rosa and spoke loudly, enunciating clearly.

  “Grandma, this is my friend, Arden, who’s curious about Carlo Portino.”

  “Arten? Vhat kind of name is Arten?”

  “Um, sort of an artsy name I think. My parents were sort of hippies. I mean not really but…”

  “Vhat?”

  Lilly shot me a look. “Your ethnicity,” she sighed, as if I were a moron.

  “Oh. It’s English. My people are from England.’

  “Achh. Vell…” Grandma blinked her pale blue eyes several times.

  “So, Grandma. Carlo Portino…”

  “Ahh. Carlo. Yes.”

  “Wow, so you really knew him when he was alive?” I asked excitedly.

  “Vhat? As opposed to vhat?”

  “Of course he was ALIVE when she knew him!” Lilly hiss-whispered (hisspered?) shooting me a look. Then she turned to Grandma. “So you really knew him, Grandma?” she asked sweetly.

  “Yes! Of course I did! Vhy not?”

  “Did you know his girlfriend?” I yelled each word clearly so she could hear me.

  “Ach yes. Kurva.”

  “Um, no…not, not Kurva. ‘Audrey,’ I think….

  Lilly rolled her eyes. “Kurva means whore in Hungarian.”

  “Oh.”

  Grandma nodded. “Vit the dyed hair and the ten different boyfriends.”

  “Audrey had lots of boyfriends?” I asked, then realized that I’d probably said this too quietly for her to hear. “Is that why he killed her? All the boyfriends? He was JEALOUS??” I screamed the last part so she could hear me.

  She looked at me with pale, blue watery eyes – the same color as Lilly’s – and I wondered momentarily if Grandma had been a tall, blonde beauty too, when she was younger.

  The fact that she now barely reached four feet in height probably ruled out the ‘tall’ part but her still beautiful skin and eyes confirmed that the beauty part was probably true.

  “Ach! She vanted him to be jealous!” she spat out. Literally. Spat. “She tinks that vill keep him! But it won’t!”

  “Well it did. I mean…he wanted her enough to be with her forever. To try to kill her.”

  “Yeh,” she said sadly, nodding. She shook her head looking down. Then she sighed and stared off. “He vas such a beautiful man. A beautiful man. Vas goink to be a big star too.”

  I shrugged my shoulders. I didn’t want to tell her that Carlo’s role in Bounders was only 5 lines. I’d seen the script. Let her think it if she wanted to.

  When we left I suggested to Lilly that perhaps Grandma Rosa had a bit of a crush on Carlo.

  Lilly gasped, stomping the brake even harder than usual. “Of course not! Grandma was in love with Grandpa! He was the love of her life!”

  I nodded in agreement. After all, why disillusion her? And why make myself any more car-sick than I already was?

  CHAPTER 12

  I invited Lilly to come hang out with me – to go to a mall. Or a movie, or the beach. Or for a run. Or to pretty much do anything so that I wouldn’t have to go home, but she was busy with her boyfriend. So I decided to grab my computer and my dog and go sit at a café and work.

  I planned to get down to some serious writing.

  But when I got home, I saw it there – on my doorstep. The movie!

  Yay! I could finally see if Carlo Portino was really my dream man! And I could finally have a legit reason to procrastinate on my script without feeling guilty! (These were life and death questions after all.)

  I was so eager to see if my Carlo was the same Carlo who played, ‘Drummond, the night clerk,’ that I didn’t even make my usual popcorned butter. Instead, I poured a glass of Sauvignon Blanc, turned out the lights and settled in.

  The moody, brassy intro music began playing as the opening credits rolled - in dramatic white against a cloudy grey background.

  Then the movie began, it was noirish, tough-guy stuff, all black and white and shadowy. I picked up the script from my coffee table and followed along – knowing that Carlo’s scene wouldn’t come until the end of Act 1 which was about 35 pages and another half hour away.

  As his scene drew closer, I grew more nervous. Then finally, ‘Drummond, the night clerk’ made his appearance.

  Carlo.

  It was definitely my Carlo.

  Gorgeous, alive, talking, acting Carlo. Speaking his three lines with a low, sensual Italian accent.

  He was real.

  As I rewound and watched his scene again, I suddenly sensed him near. I felt him brush against my arm, his presence sending a tingle across my skin.

  “I know this,” he whispered. “Can I get you a room? We only take cash.”

  I looked over at him as he watched the movie, rapt. “I remember this...somehow…" He shook his head, frowning.

  Then he inhaled sharply. I followed his eyes to the screen.

  “I know her.” He was staring at the actress on screen. “Audrey…I think…”

  “That’s Audrey?” I hadn't realized she was in this movie too.

  He nodded. “Yes, I think…I think maybe I knew her.”

  “You did!” I practically screamed. “She use
d to be your girlfriend!"

  He shrugged noncommittally.

  “Yes! You were in love with her!" I was going to say more but I hesitated, wondering if it was such a good idea to remind him. I didn’t want to spark any kind of murderous rage after all.

  But he just shrugged. “No, I don’t think so.”

  So maybe he blocked it out. Which I wouldn’t blame him for. If I’d killed someone in a grossly violent manner I might not want to remember it – or her – either.

  I felt him watching me. I turned and froze when I saw the look in his eyes. His piercing stare was totally freaking me out since I couldn’t tell if it implied 1) dark, seething lust or 2) dark, seething murderous intent.

  I stood up and backed across the room.

  “I’m sorry – but I really can’t do this. I can’t be with you anymore.”

  “But why not?”

  He got up and walked slowly towards me. Hypnotizing me with his intense, green eyes.

  I forced myself to snap out of my lustful trance. “I just can’t!” I said. I considered telling him that there was someone else but then I remembered what he did to his last girlfriend who told him that.

  “Um…” I said, thinking frantically. “It’s not because I have a boyfriend. I would never cheat. Never. I hate cheaters!"

  He shrugged. “Then why?” He was looking at me with one eyebrow raised skeptically. Seductively.

  “Um…I just….I….I’m…thinking of becoming a nun!”

  He looked dubious.

  “No it’s true. I really like their outfits. I love them!”

  “Their habits…”

  “Yes! Their habits are good too- all that praying and charity stuff...wonderful. Wonderful habits.”

  “Their outfits are called habits.”

  “Of course!” I said frantically, “Of course. Hail Mary!” I was practically shouting as I pseudo-crossed myself – and probably wound up doing more of a four leaf clover than a cross.

  Carlo walked away, shaking his head. “I wish you had told me this,” he said. “I never would have tried to corrupt you. I have the greatest respect for the church. I would not like to do anything sinful.”