Creeps by Darren Hynes Read Free Book Online Page B

road?”
    Wayne looks away. “I’m helping Mr. Rollie direct and Marjorie’s one of our lead actors, so what would we do without her?”
    â€œI see. Well, they’re back, so no need to worry.”
    â€œOkay.”
    Quiet.
    â€œWhat were you writing?”
    Wayne lays his palm over the page. “Nothing.”
    â€œOkay. Goodnight.”
    â€œGoodnight.”
    His mother leaves and Wayne listens to her fading-away footsteps and her opening another door and then the silence. He takes his hand away from the page and writes:
    Mom just told me that your mom’s all right and I can’t tell you how relieved I am! Probably not as relieved as you though, eh? What happened anyway?She’s not sick, is she? Hope it’s not cancer or anything because Mom says that cancer is everywhere and even the young ones are dropping like flies. Anyway I’m glad she’s back and that you can go on living up the street.
    Oh, by the way, I was meaning to say that Mr. Rollie asked me to be assistant director. He says I can tell people how to say their lines if they’re not saying them right and I can help him with the script and things. Not too sure what I think about it ’cause I only wanted a part and what do I know about directing? But Mr. Rollie seems to think I can do it. He says I’m a leader only I don’t know it yet (ha ha ha)!!! Don’t know about that! I said I’d do it because it might be nice to be a part of something. Is that why you’re doing it?
    You might find this weird but I write these letters to say to people what I don’t have the courage to say in real life. I’ve been doing it for a long while now and I’ve filled tons of notebooks. I suppose if anyone ever read what I’ve written I’d have to leave town.
    I should go to bed now but I’ll just say that sometimes I feel like there’s no sense in anything. Do you?
    Your friend who feels like there’s no sense in anything,
Wayne Pumphrey

TEN
    Marjorie finishes her monologue and turns to Les Faulkner, but Les can’t seem to remember what comes next. In the script he’s supposed to go to Marjorie’s character, Bonita, and kiss her cheek and wrap his arms around her, but it’s like he’s lost the capacity to move. Those sitting on the other side of the room look frozen, too. Wax figurines. Sharon’s got a Snickers in her mouth, but she’s not chewing; Paul Stool is actually sitting up with nothing over his crotch (cured at last); Julie Snow is on her knees about to apply a fresh coat of watermelon lipstick; and Shane and Jason have stopped drawing tits and vaginas and dicks on their scripts.
    Mr. Rollie slides forward in his chair and wipes his eyes beneath his glasses and swallows and looks at the wall clock and tells everyone that that’s enough for today and we can go home.
    The cast needs a moment more to remember how to blink, breathe, stand up and put one foot in front of the other, swing their arms, and finally exit through the double doors.
    Mr. Rollie calls Marjorie back.
    She comes over and takes her place in front of the long table. Odd socks and too-short jeans and electrical tape over the toe of one sneaker. Bangs in her eyes and she’s chewing on her cheek and her legs are crossed at the ankles like she needs to pee.
    Mr. Rollie takes off his glasses and sets them on the table and looks at Marjorie. “Just wanted to say you were exceptional just now, Miss Pope.”
    Marjorie doesn’t say anything.
    â€œMr. Faulkner was a little thrown, but at least now he’ll know he can’t coast along as usual.” Mr. Rollie pokes Wayne in the shoulder. “What did you think, Mr. Pumphrey?”
    Wayne lays down his Razor Point extra-fine pen. “Awfully good.”
    Mr. Rollie nods. “Wasn’t it?”
    Wayne turns to Marjorie. “Better than the Hollywood crowd even.”
    Mr. Rollie offers Marjorie a