Never drive faster than your Guardian Angel can fly.
Author: amberthetired
Prompt #: 12
Warnings: None?
Wordcount: 783
A/n: Yay Dialogue!
Ray Gallo is not a good man. A talented writer? Without a doubt, in his younger days. Now, he was more prone to alcohol and pills. Although the pictures on his books show him tanned and trim, age has not treated Ray well. The slim figure of his younger days has rounded into a large paunch, and his tan now looks fake and orange. Right now he is driving down a highway in Nevada, just outside Las Vegas. He is on the phone with his agent, arguing about the latest contract Ray has so far failed to fulfill. It’s for a compendium of sci-fi/mystery short stories. Ray has been too busy indulging in what Vegas has to offer to even think about this short story. His agent, Allan, is hoping to persuade Ray that he should write the story, and fast. Ray tries to explain why he hasn’t done any work yet to Allan.
“Look, I’ve just been...” His mind flashes back to last night which he had spent with two hookers and a bottle of tequila. “Just busy, ok? I haven’t had time to write it.”
“Ray, the deadline is in a week. I need you to write this story. Just one short story,” Allan tries to placate him.
“Jeez Allan, can’t I just catch the next one? I’m not in a sci-fi kind of headspace right now.” Ray takes a large bite out of the Big Mac he had picked up just before receiving Allan’s call.
“Ray, you’ve been ‘catching the next one’”- Ray can hear the air quotes in Allan’s voice - “for the last three projects now. We can’t keep breaking contracts like this. You’ll be broke.”
Ray stuffs a third of his burger into his mouth. “Nloog,” he says, then decides to chew a bit first. When he finally swallows he takes a big slurp of cola before replying to Allan, “Look, you can just get me another gig, and we’ll be back in business, right? C’mon Allan. It’ll be fine.”
Allan sighs. “Look Ray, it’s not that simple.”
Ray’s grip tightens on the wheel. “What do you mean, ‘not that simple’ Allan? You’re my agent aren’t you? You’ve been my agent for fifteen years, haven’t you Allan?” Ray is shaking his head in disbelief.
Allan sighs again. “You have to understand Ray. It’s hard to be your agent when you won’t write anything. Word spreads. People don’t want to ask you for work because they don’t think you’ll come through. It’s not worth the risk for them.”
Ray gnashes his teeth together. “Allan, I’m Ray Fucking Gallo, of course people wanna hire me. I’m the mother fucking prince of -‘’
“Ray,” Allan cuts in, “You’re not a hot shot young writer anymore. You’re 45. You haven’t produced anything of note in eight years. I had to call in a favour to get you this job.”
Ray pounds the steering wheel presses a bit harder on the accelerator. “Excuse me cocksucker, but I think I wrote a series of crime drama novels only two years ago.” Ray downs the last of his cola.
Allan snorts. “That series was a joke, Ray. People only bought them out of loyalty. Nobody liked them.”
Ray’s knuckles are white around the wheel now. He’s leaning forward in his seat and his car is starting to be travelling in a less than straight path. “SO,” he says triumphantly, “the truth comes out. Have you always felt this way, or just since I started getting all the hotter chicks?”
“Ray, this isn’t about the women. It’s about me being your agent, in that I CAN’T anymore if you don’t write this piece!” Allan is as close to shouting as Allan ever gets.
“WHAT?” this is a curve ball that Ray’s not expecting. He snarls and presses down on the accelerator even more.
“Ray, we used to be friends, but I feel like I don’t -“
“You can’t do this to me Allan!” Ray is definitely shouting now. “You’ve been my agent for fifteen years! You can’t just walk out on that! Allan - ‘’ And that’s when he feels it. His left arm has gone numb. There was a pain in his chest, like someone had stuck their hand in, and was squeezing his heart. He was short of breath and suddenly sweating profusely. He realized he was having a heart attack, and in that instant, Ray Gallo knew he was going to die.
“Allan,” said Ray, “I’ve always hated you.” Then he lost consciousness due to cardiogenic shock, and his car swerved into a telephone pole. Ray wasn’t wearing a seatbelt, but was dead long before his body was hurled twenty feet from his vehicle.
Prompt #: 12
Warnings: None?
Wordcount: 783
A/n: Yay Dialogue!
Ray Gallo is not a good man. A talented writer? Without a doubt, in his younger days. Now, he was more prone to alcohol and pills. Although the pictures on his books show him tanned and trim, age has not treated Ray well. The slim figure of his younger days has rounded into a large paunch, and his tan now looks fake and orange. Right now he is driving down a highway in Nevada, just outside Las Vegas. He is on the phone with his agent, arguing about the latest contract Ray has so far failed to fulfill. It’s for a compendium of sci-fi/mystery short stories. Ray has been too busy indulging in what Vegas has to offer to even think about this short story. His agent, Allan, is hoping to persuade Ray that he should write the story, and fast. Ray tries to explain why he hasn’t done any work yet to Allan.
“Look, I’ve just been...” His mind flashes back to last night which he had spent with two hookers and a bottle of tequila. “Just busy, ok? I haven’t had time to write it.”
“Ray, the deadline is in a week. I need you to write this story. Just one short story,” Allan tries to placate him.
“Jeez Allan, can’t I just catch the next one? I’m not in a sci-fi kind of headspace right now.” Ray takes a large bite out of the Big Mac he had picked up just before receiving Allan’s call.
“Ray, you’ve been ‘catching the next one’”- Ray can hear the air quotes in Allan’s voice - “for the last three projects now. We can’t keep breaking contracts like this. You’ll be broke.”
Ray stuffs a third of his burger into his mouth. “Nloog,” he says, then decides to chew a bit first. When he finally swallows he takes a big slurp of cola before replying to Allan, “Look, you can just get me another gig, and we’ll be back in business, right? C’mon Allan. It’ll be fine.”
Allan sighs. “Look Ray, it’s not that simple.”
Ray’s grip tightens on the wheel. “What do you mean, ‘not that simple’ Allan? You’re my agent aren’t you? You’ve been my agent for fifteen years, haven’t you Allan?” Ray is shaking his head in disbelief.
Allan sighs again. “You have to understand Ray. It’s hard to be your agent when you won’t write anything. Word spreads. People don’t want to ask you for work because they don’t think you’ll come through. It’s not worth the risk for them.”
Ray gnashes his teeth together. “Allan, I’m Ray Fucking Gallo, of course people wanna hire me. I’m the mother fucking prince of -‘’
“Ray,” Allan cuts in, “You’re not a hot shot young writer anymore. You’re 45. You haven’t produced anything of note in eight years. I had to call in a favour to get you this job.”
Ray pounds the steering wheel presses a bit harder on the accelerator. “Excuse me cocksucker, but I think I wrote a series of crime drama novels only two years ago.” Ray downs the last of his cola.
Allan snorts. “That series was a joke, Ray. People only bought them out of loyalty. Nobody liked them.”
Ray’s knuckles are white around the wheel now. He’s leaning forward in his seat and his car is starting to be travelling in a less than straight path. “SO,” he says triumphantly, “the truth comes out. Have you always felt this way, or just since I started getting all the hotter chicks?”
“Ray, this isn’t about the women. It’s about me being your agent, in that I CAN’T anymore if you don’t write this piece!” Allan is as close to shouting as Allan ever gets.
“WHAT?” this is a curve ball that Ray’s not expecting. He snarls and presses down on the accelerator even more.
“Ray, we used to be friends, but I feel like I don’t -“
“You can’t do this to me Allan!” Ray is definitely shouting now. “You’ve been my agent for fifteen years! You can’t just walk out on that! Allan - ‘’ And that’s when he feels it. His left arm has gone numb. There was a pain in his chest, like someone had stuck their hand in, and was squeezing his heart. He was short of breath and suddenly sweating profusely. He realized he was having a heart attack, and in that instant, Ray Gallo knew he was going to die.
“Allan,” said Ray, “I’ve always hated you.” Then he lost consciousness due to cardiogenic shock, and his car swerved into a telephone pole. Ray wasn’t wearing a seatbelt, but was dead long before his body was hurled twenty feet from his vehicle.