[A hotel room. MURRAY and EMMA enter quickly and shut the door behind them.]
MURRAY: Did anyone see us?
EMMA: No. I don’t think so.
MURRAY: We shouldn’t be here. Together, I mean. We shouldn’t be together. It looks suspicious. What if someone sees?
EMMA: Who? Who would see?
MURRAY: I don’t know.
EMMA: The police?
MURRAY: Maybe.
EMMA: No one saw.
MURRAY: How do you know?
EMMA: No one knows you were there.
MURRAY: If they find out, if they know I was there, they’ll think I killed him.
EMMA: You did.
MURRAY: On purpose! They’ll think I killed him on purpose—that we were having an affair, and he caught us together, and I killed him!
EMMA: Well, that is the most logical explanation—isn’t it? That we were having an affair?
MURRAY: But we weren’t! We weren’t having an affair!
EMMA: No?
MURRAY: No!
EMMA: Are you sure?
MURRAY: What?
EMMA: Are you sure we weren’t having an affair? Because I totally thought there was something going on.
MURRAY: Oh my god! I never should have gone with you! What was I thinking?!
EMMA: You were thinking about your reward. Duh.
MURRAY: My reward?
EMMA: Oh, c’mon.
MURRAY: I don’t know what you’re—
EMMA: Don’t be stupid. I asked you to slay the zombie—
MURRAY: You don’t think I intentionally—
EMMA: Intentionally or not, you kept your end of the bargain.
[Taking off her dress.]
Now it’s my turn.
MURRAY: Are you serious?
[She continues to undress.]
You’re going to sleep with me as a reward for accidentally murdering your husband?
EMMA: Not as a reward. No.
MURRAY: A compensatory gift?
EMMA: I didn’t want you to kill him, if that’s what you’re suggesting. I expected a little subtlety. You are a writer after all. I thought you’d play some sort of mind game. Get inside his head. Disillusion him maybe. Not kill him.
MURRAY: A little subtlety?
EMMA: That’s right.
MURRAY: I wasn’t subtle enough?
EMMA: He’s dead.
MURRAY: He attacked me!
EMMA: All right. Look. It doesn’t matter. It’s done. He’s dead. I don’t want to argue.
MURRAY: All right. No arguing.
EMMA: It’s in the past.
MURRAY: Forgotten.
EMMA: We should just move forward.
MURRAY: Moving forward.
EMMA: You should probably take off your clothes. That would be a good first step.
MURRAY: You’re serious about this? You’re going to sleep with the man who just murdered your husband?
EMMA: It’s not like I have any other option. Not really.
MURRAY: No? You didn’t make the choice to come here? Who did, if not you? I mean, is there some stranger lurking in the shadows? Some mysterious figure manipulating events? Hiding just out of sight? Is someone twisting your arm?
EMMA: Yes.
MURRAY: What?
EMMA: Yes.
MURRAY: Yes?
[She nods.]
Someone is? Someone’s twisting your arm?
[She nods.]
Who?
[No response.]
Who is?
[No response.]
Who’s twisting your arm?
[No response.]
C’mon.
[No Response.]
I asked you a question.
[No response.]
Who is it?
[No response.]
Is it my wife?
[No response.]
Do you work for my wife?
[No response.]
You do—don’t you?
[No response.]
Did she pay you to do this?
[No response.]
To set this up? This whole thing?
[No response.]
Oh my god! She did! You work for my wife! How could I be so stupid! She somehow orchestrated this whole thing from behind the scenes! Like some kind of spider! Weaving her little web! Sucking me in! Knowing what would happen! Knowing I’d give her anything to keep it out of the papers! Oh my god! That’s assuming I don’t go to jail! I could actually go to jail! I mean, you could tell them anything! You could tell them it was intentional! It would be my word against yours! That fucking cunt! Whatever she’s paying you, I’ll pay double! Triple! Whatever you want! Name your price!
EMMA: It’s not your wife.
MURRAY: Oh. Good.
[Pause.]
Who then?
EMMA: Fate.
MURRAY: Fate?
EMMA: I told you before—
MURRAY: Honey, I told you before—I don’t believe in fate.
EMMA: Fate believes in you.
MURRAY: That’s the stupidest fucking line I’ve ever heard in my life.
EMMA: I didn’t write it.
MURRAY: You said it.
EMMA: I’m just the mouthpiece.
MURRAY: Then I’ll only blame you for the bad delivery.
EMMA: Do you want me or not?
MURRAY: I haven’t decided yet.
EMMA: Well, make up your mind, ‘cause I don’t have all day.
* * *
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Copyright © 2010 by Walter Wykes
CAUTION: Professionals and amateurs are hereby warned that The Fly is subject to a royalty. It is fully protected under the copyright laws of the United States of America, and of all countries covered by the International Copyright Union (including the Dominion of Canada and the rest of the British Commonwealth), and of all countries covered by the Pan-American Copyright convention and the Universal Copyright Convention, and of all countries with which the United States has reciprocal copyright relations. All rights, including professional and amateur stage performing, motion picture, recitation, lecturing, public reading, radio broadcasting, television, video or sound taping, all other forms of mechanical or electronic reproduction, such as information storage and retrieval systems and photocopying, and the rights of translation into foreign languages, are strictly reserved.
Inquiries concerning all rights should be addressed to the author at sandmaster@aol.com
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