Drama Dolls: A Novel: [Dark, Suspenseful, Fast-paced, Exhilarating] (21 page)

The jewels, they were stacking up in the spare bedroom. Making it look as if multiple heists were taking place, Lena, she had schemed up a plan to “help” the sickness. Help the healing. Help her friend.

Pacing around the room, gauging her surroundings, Brittney turned on the television. Pushing play on the DVD player, Bing Crosby singing “White Christmas” on the screen, her life was becoming surreal. Huddled in the center of the spider web of cracks, the holiday movie calmed Brittney down.

One of Brittney’s favorite things to do with Her was watch Christmas movies. The winter holiday, Brittney’s favorite, always made the couple feel grateful. Grateful for each other, the lives they were able to live, and the fact that they were both healthy.

The season was magical for the couple. Coming in quickly, only to exit as fast. Much like Her death, and Brittney’s grief afterward, the cheerleader’s reality had the same feeling of Christmas.

Emily passed out on the bed, sleeping because she was tired, she was always tired, Brittney pulled out the porno stash under the bed. Shuffling the movies aside, she grabbed the Pink Lady Fleshlight and untwisted the cap. Pulling down her panties, lifting up her skirt, Brittney serviced herself to Rosemary Clooney.

On the screen Bing Crosby was talking to Rosemary Clooney.

The answering machine blinked new messages.

“Your father is worried about you,” and “Why don’t you come over for dinner?” Unreturned calls from Brittney/Jeffrey’s parents.

There were new messages from the realtor. “Please call me back,” Jane said. “There is an offer on the house.” Jane, the realtor, a bereavement group attendee, her twin brother had passed away. Helping Jeffrey was helping herself was helping Lena. After each “burglary,” Jane and her assistant would enter the house and clean up. Rearranging the bedroom and putting it back together again. She convinced herself that keeping the house orderly would assist in the house selling faster.

Standing on the front porch, the sound of the movie sifting out the window, the television’s alien light flickering into the night, William, he said, “You’re feeding into his sickness!”

Defensive, attacking back, Lena said, “You’re trying to sabotage him!”

“I’m trying to help him!” William said. Anger in his face, his eyebrows lowered, William was standing stern in full cheerleader getup. “He’s fucked up! Can’t you see?”

Lena’s face was red from crying. Her throat was sore from screaming.

“When Jane was showing you the house, what do you think I was doing upstairs?” William said. Lena shrugged. Her was body quivering. “I was fucking cleaning the God damned house!” William said. “With Jane showing the house, she didn’t have time to clean it herself!”

Pacing, his mouth filling with spit, William said, “All so we could rob it again!” Fuming, breathing heavily, he said, “Now, you on the other hand.”

“I can’t help it!” Lena said. Breathing out all of her emotion onto William, she said, “I’m in love with him!”

A gunshot fired up above.

The television blared out old movie lines.

The light, blinking on and off as the scenes transitioned.

Lena crying, she said, “Jeffrey!”

In his bedroom, Jeffrey’s body was slouched in a pool of blood. Emily the RealDoll by his side. The black styrofoam hand, it sat bare on the vanity. Clothes in the closet were gifts for his wife. She would wear them on special occasions.

The inner voice, singing softly as the final breaths escaped it,
“When the music’s over. Turn out the lights.”

The RealDoll box stashed in the closet, the price just under five grand, it was a substitute when She passed. The box was filled with a cotton bag, a wig, and scented powder.

Emily Doll was wearing the wedding gown. The dress was stowed away in the attic’s closet. A high-wasted empire gown that cuddled the figure with an extra-long skirt that concealed her hips. Emily’s expression, her body’s demeanor, willing to be used and abused however one pleased. One hundred percent guarantee or your money back.

On the RealDoll’s finger was the wedding ring from the black velour hand.

Tipped over on the night stand was the bottle of antidepressant pills. It was prescribed by the pharmacist from the bereavement group.

Morrison’s voice, a ghost inside the inner Jeffrey, singing,
“When the music’s over. Turn out the lights.”

Jeffrey, he was almost naked. His panties were down around his ankles and the Fleshlight was between his legs. The black semiautomatic was in his hand. The drawer where it resided was pulled open, sweatpants hanging out.

Cars that drove by, their lights shining through the window displayed a silhouette of two people in death.

Credits rolled up the screen, a classic coming to an end.

Emily, her expression unchanged. Staring into the ceiling with her olive colored eyes, alluring as they were. Her shiny black wig of a hair, falling down to the blanket, mixed with a purple red from the blood splatter.

Jeffrey’s brain was splashed around the bed. Little bits of human filling the humid room, the stink could be smelled down the hall.

The voice of understanding reason, it was singing to itself.

Jeffrey, ending his agony, he finally joined his wife. He finally joined Her.

And Morrison, he was singing,
“Until the end; Until the end.”

ABOUT THE AUTHOR

Jason Tanamor is the Editor and Founder of Zoiks! Online. Zoiks! Online offers the best in stand-up comedy and music.

He has 10 plus years of experience as an entertainment writer/interviewer for Yahoo!, the Moline Dispatch/Rock Island Argus, Cinema Blend, Celebrity Cafe, Strip Las Vegas Magazine, Pulse Magazine and Zoiks! Online.

Tanamor has interviewed the likes of author Chuck Palahniuk (Fight Club); comedians Demetri Martin, Jim Breuer (SNL, Half Baked), Aisha Tyler (Talk Soup, The Ghost Whisperer), Dane Cook, and Gabriel Iglesias; musicians Billy Corgan (Smashing Pumpkins), Ann Wilson (Heart), Taylor Momsen (The Pretty Reckless and Gossip Girl), Chad Smith (Red Hot Chili Peppers), and Henry Rollins (Black Flag); and baseball legend Pete Rose.

He has covered everyone from Steve Martin to Jerry Seinfeld and from Evanescence to President Obama.

He also is the author of the critically acclaimed novel, "Anonymous."

Visit him at www.tanamor.com.