Free Playing Along by Rory Samantha Green

big break. When he died, my world shattered around me.” Fanny slips into her shoes and stumbles towards George. “He speaks to me now, George. When I’m meditating. Sebastian told me that you and I were going to be hot together. He told me it would all work out in the end. He was here last night watching us…”
    George is utterly creeped out and wishes she would leave.
    “Great!” he says a little too enthusiastically, steering Fanny towards the door. “Well then, Sebastian must be about as tired as I am, and probably has a hangover equally as gruesome. He’s going to want to rest. In your room. Do you know where it is?” Before he can dodge her, Fanny leans in and kisses George full on the lips, trying to push her tongue insistently into his mouth. He pulls away, aware that there are scores of men who would cut off any number of limbs to find themselves in this position, but ironically, George just isn’t feeling it. He hands Fanny her clothes.
    “You should get dressed.”
    Fanny takes the rolled up ball of fabric but doesn’t bother to put anything on. She opens the door and swaying down the hallway,
high blood pressure
on full display, calls behind her, “Reach out, George, reach out.”
    “Most definitely,” says George, closing the door as she vanishes around the corner. He briefly questions if he should worry about Fanny roaming the halls half naked, but reminds himself that surely in Vegas that’s hardly out of the ordinary.
    I’m such an arse
he thinks. He can’t even manage to throw caution to the wind without throwing God knows what else into the gale. The day looms ahead of him. A video shoot with a control freak director. Another forty-eight hours in this surreal city. Fanny, the ghost channelling stalker. At least he has the acoustic show to look forward to. He leans his back against the door and surveys the hotel room, a space so thoroughly devoid of soul. George has to be one of thousands of people staying in this beast of a hotel, so why, right at this moment, does he feel like the only one?

LEXI
November 13 th , 2009
Venice, Los Angeles
    Russell greets Lexi with a freshly prepared glass of green juice. “New recipe!” he declares proudly.
    “Thanks,” says Lexi who is still feeling the effects of her sleepless night.
    What she wants to do now is get to work, rein Russell in, and start making some progress. She’s decided that designing a website is the first point of call.
    “So,” says Lexi, enjoying her new professional vigor, “I was thinking website. Our priority now is to generate interest from organizations who might consider using your consultation services. We need to get businesses on board and then we can get testimonials. It’s all about word of mouth.” Lexi produces her iPhone from her bag.
    “I’m going to start calling contacts today. I know a brilliant website designer who I’m certain would give us a break on the price, considering the current climate.”
    “Okey dokey,” says Russell, “Boris and I will just take out the compost then. Boris has been a tad anxious ever since—”
    “No!” says Lexi, with more force than intended. “No Boris talk right now, Russell. The compost will have to wait.” She takes a sip of the green juice (a foul tasting concoction) and begins pacing back and forth, something that appears to have become a habit in this job.
    “I’ve been asking myself—what’s the most unique selling point of this business? And I realized the answer is—you. It’s your passion and expertise. It’s your stunning devotion. We have to get you out there as the face of Let The Green Times Roll. We need to make a video to play on the home page. You… talking to the masses… pleading with the consumers and the capitalists… inspiring millions… like a leader. Make the world stop and listen, Russell—I know you have it in you!”
    Russell looks deeply moved. Boris sits next to him on the kitchen counter staring uneasily at the juice.