The Client's Photograph

Elizabeth was confused. They had been dismissed. Nothing more from The Leader. She sat on her side of the bed, beside her fiancé.

"Liz, I don't understand," he admitted.

"We're not meant to," she replied. "Kevin wants to keep it all vague. Keeps us on our toes."

"No, I mean your task. And his name's not Kevin, is it?"

Elizabeth just looked down at the large, eight and a half by eleven photograph she held upon her folded legs.

"Companion," he snorted. "Sounds like a euphemism. An inappropriate derivation of what you do. I don't like it."

"Look, honey, I'm gonna be candid about this..."

He folded his hands on his chest, and turned his head to make eye contact.

"I've had to play a few men to get where I am."

He bit his upper lip, "I know that."

"The leading lady on a day-time soap opera. As talented as I am, acting isn't what got me where I am."

"And he paid you off, to quit the show. They wrote you out of the plot, killed off your character, and you don't care at all?"

"I'm not saying I want to do anything questionable, but I do have to make the man fall in love with me."

They were both staring at the picture on her lap.

"Well, I suppose his isn't the ugliest face in a crowd."

She smiled, "You'll get the big picture. Gotta novelize it. After all, you are The Writer."

 

The End

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