Rapture, 4

So, whenever I feel like writing as a crazy person I stop using paragraphs. I'm considering just keeping that as the style, because it does convey a sort of chaos, no? Anyway, I apologise to your eyes if you decide to read this. Very sorry. As always, it's probably an editing nightmare. I'm not great with that stuff. Thanks so much if you've been reading alla my chapters.

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Boston moves very quickly around me. I cannot say exactly why the city is moving, because I know that cities are very stable. The people are moving. That is a more correct way of stating this. The people around me are all moving very quickly, and it makes it seem like the city is moving very quickly. It is not. The reason it seems like the city is moving quickly and I am not is because I have just finished a book, and whenever I finish a book I like I think about it for a long time and I become very slow. The book I have just finished is one hundred pages long, exactly. When I woke up this morning, I made a cup of coffee in my apartment and it spilled on my hand. My hand needed a bandage, so I asked the woman downstairs for one. I said: “Good morning, Mrs. Gambino, may I borrow a bandage?” and she called me “niño” and gave me one. Then I walked back upstairs and I decided I wanted a book, so I took five dollars in change and I walked out of my building and down the street to the pharmacy. There I looked in the section where they sell books, and most of them have women wearing sheets and lying down on the cover. Others have pictures of sunsets or apples. The one I chose had nothing on the cover except the title, which I liked very much: Death and other Diplomats. I also liked that it was exactly one hundred pages. I paid for the book and the cashier looked at my hand and said she was sorry I had to keep it all wrapped up and for some reason when I looked at her I felt very strange, and I wanted to reach into one of her hoop earrings and pull it very hard until it ripped through the rest of her ear. They were very gold hoops with her name in them, and her name was Keisha. Then I felt normal again and I nodded and I said: “Thank you, Keisha.” And I took the book and I walked back outside. Then I sat down on a bench and I opened the book, and I could tell I was going to like it right away because the first sentence seemed very interesting. Then a man in a very large jacket sat down next to me and started smoking a cigarette and I moved because I do not like breathing in smoke. The man on the first floor of my apartment calls them cancer sticks. I agree with him, and I hope that the man in the jacket gets cancer so he will realise how bad they are for him. Then I sat down on a different bench, and that bench is where I am now with the fast city and my book. I am watching the people go by and thinking about the book, which I liked. I liked the characters a lot. I liked the characters of Life and Death, especially. The main character, Sara, was a little bitch, though. Now I am feeling a little funny again, and I am confused. I do not like feeling funny. I like feeling normal. When I was younger, I would go see a doctor who would talk to me a lot and tell me what was wrong with me and I would tell him how I was feeling. At one point I felt very sad a lot and the doctor gave me some medicine that made it better. I wonder if I should go to another doctor, so he can tell me what I am feeling. I do not know what I am feeling right now. I am thinking deeply, and I have not known what I am feeling for a long time. I close the good book and stand up, and Boston moves again. I will go back to my apartment. I will make a cup of coffee, and I will not spill it. And then, I think I will read the book again. It was a very good book.

*

“So, we’re at a crossroads here.”

“I suppose we are.”

“What do you want to do? I guess that’s the simplest way I can word it. We can book you onto another kiddie show in a snap. They’re casting for a new one on Nick about these crime solving kids in space. So, we all know that’s right up your alley. But I’d like to think I know you pretty well, and you want to expand. Broaden your horizons. Am I right?”

Missy Donovan knew that her agent and manager was almost always right. Dominic Petranova had a reputation for never being wrong, which was why she very much liked working with him. She answered with little hesitation, as she had been thinking over her response for several weeks now.

“Of course you’re right, Dom. I’m a little sick of the children’s scene. You know, I’ll be seventeen in a month. I’d kind of like to be taken seriously at some point, and I’m going to get typecast if I don’t make some serious changes. But I know it’s so easy to ruin my career from here. You know, I don’t want to go into music or, you know, “leak” a strip-tease or something. I want to be respected. So that’s my problem. How does Leah Looper get cast as anything other than a Super Friend?”

“Well, I have some answers for you, Donovan. But… could you please, maybe, get the cat out of here?” Missy the cat licked a paw and stretched indulgently on her new owner’s Calvin Klein trousers. She clearly wasn’t going anywhere. “I respect that that girl gave you her cat and all, but this is my office. Is taking her everywhere going to be the new thing? Because as your agent, I’m not sure I approve.”

Missy the actress laughed lightly. “I actually think it might be.” She paused. “Wait. Think about it. Missy is kind of like the symbol of everything kid’s TV stands for. You know, love and friendship. Cats. Not to mention she’s a constant reminder of the seven year old who gave her to me. If I bring her with me everywhere, it’s a tie to my past. Even if I do more mature films and shows, I’ve got the cat.”

Dom scratched his chin. “You might be onto something. That might actually be perfect. I mean, you two seem kind of inseparable already. We’d have to hire a trainer. Make sure there’s no chance the cat is going to act up or run away or pee on the red carpet.”

“It’s perfect!”

“How about we look at other names, though. Two Missies is… a lot.”

“No. Celine named her. Her name stays.”

“Missy…”

“It stays.”

“Alright.” Dom tapped down a few notes on his smartphone. “So, I’ll make some calls. Get a good cat trainer. We can meet tomorrow, say… noon.”

“Yeah… wait, no. I have to give a little speech at a 9/11 memorial dedication in the city at noon. I can get back here by… three, probably, to play it safe.”

“Right. Yeah, I really need to sync my calendars. I had that down. So, three. Is your flat okay?”

“Yup.”

“Okay. Three it is. Cat hour.”

“Cat hour.”

Dom scrolled through his calendar to double check again, clearly embarrassed at having missed putting in an appointment.

“Okay, so let’s talk appearance for a minute here. You’re on hiatus right now. So you can pull that off for probably two more months but then people are going to start forgetting about you. Do you want to draw it out or book something? Because if you want to go another two months, appearance is going to be ridiculously important.”

“I think I like that idea. A little break.”

“Alright. Understandable. So, what we’ll do is schedule a few interviews. I think I can get you into Teen Vogue in a few weeks. That’ll carry you for a month. Then we need something that’ll make tabloids. How about… a new boyfriend? That sounds pretty good to me. Boyfriend buzz is always money.”

Missy shifted very uncomfortably and scratched the kitten’s head.

“I don’t think so. The interview is fine. But… nix on the boyfriend.”

“Missy. Come on. Have you even had one since… what? 2008? And that was a joke, really. Dayton Thomas, boy wonder.” He chuckled. “Everyone needs a little romance, right? Get some attention out of it, even if it doesn’t mean much of anything. You’re possibly the most beautiful girl in your industry right now. I mean, the numbers don’t lie. You’re a catch.”

Missy scratched at her manicure, a habit she had broken months ago. “I just don’t feel comfortable with that, Dom. Okay?”

Dominic Petranova knew when something was wrong, and he looked at his client very carefully. For a moment they sat in silence.

“Missy…? Do you want to tell me something? Is there something I don’t know?”

Missy Donovan had been acting long enough to perfect the art of lying. So when her “No” seemed extremely insincere, Dom knew there was something he wasn’t being told. Missy had a secret; one she needed to get out.

“Missy? You sure?”

Without much warning, tears sliced through the ivory foundation on the girl’s face. Her ice-blue eyes clouded up. The cat mewed and licked her cheeks concernedly.

“I’m sure, Dom. I’m sure.”

Dominic walked around his large cherry wood desk and patted her shoulder kindly.

“Hey, it’s alright. We’ll figure something else out. Alright?” He produced a small package of tissues from a deep pocket in his navy suit. “Here. Let’s clean up so the paparazzi don’t see you looking like a mess. We’ll get you home. Seriously, sweetheart. Chin up.”

Missy sniffed as professionally as possible, dabbing at her running mascara. “I’m sorry.”

“Don’t apologise. Let’s go. Tomorrow’s cat day, cat hour, alright? We won’t talk about boyfriends anymore. There are other things we can do.”

“Thank you.”

“Alright.”

They walked out together: man, girl, and cat.

*

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Hopefully this one was a little more exciting than installment 3? Let me know. Harsh criticism always appreciated.