Courtesy of Your Typist

Thanks to Rochelle for Friday Fictioneers!

PHOTO PROMPT © Jeff Arnold

Courtesy of Your Typist

The moment I turned over the script I knew I’d done a disservice to myself. Lloyd nodded, muttered, lit a Cuban before asking Angela for a Courvoisier.

“This will do, Kate. Thanks for the typing.”

Typing? My mouth falls wide.

He glances at me, waves his hand in dismissal.

As I sit in the cab reading the last seven pages of the manuscript where all of the pieces of the mystery fall together, I thank god my mother was a cynical paranoid who passed all of those traits onto me.

These last seven, glorious pages are ransom.

Salud, Lloyd, pseudo-playwright.

Sascha Darlington

16 replies »

  1. Don’t we all kind of fear that happening at some point? We don’t have Kate’s recourse in the digital age. Score one for the old-fashioned techniques.

  2. Now I’m thinking of Collette and how her husband made her write stories under HIS name… At least this lady had a smart mother to protect her with her wise teachings!

  3. Lloyd sounds like some bosses from my past. Competitiveness and exploitation are two of the more unsavory human attributes. Well-written story, Sascha!

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