Amazombia

  Chapter 18.

  I help Riley up, and don't know what to say. Sorry? Hello, remember me?

  "Are you OK?" I ask.

  She brushes herself off carefully, sequins sprinkle to the ground, and feathers float about her like a magical aura. Her skin is covered in glitter and she has Cleopatra style make-up on, making her already ginormous eyes bigger than life.

  She stands there, Vegas incarnate.

  "Riley...you're beautif-"

  The ape in the suit puts me in a full nelson. I gag. He says, "Can you follow me please, sir?"

  Riley watches me get led down the long hallway blocked off by the velvet rope. As the ape removes the rope with one hand, and holds me by the neck with the other, he turns to Riley and says, "Riley, Mr. Hu wanted me to relay a message."

  "Let me go, you ape!" I say, and he responds by covering my mouth with his big ape hand. His hand smells like expensive cologne.

  "What is it, Larry?" Riley asks.

  He looks around, and tightens his grip on me as I struggle. "Maybe you should follow me." He holds me up, "this won't take long."

  Riley follows us down the long hall, and we stop at a small office with a little brass plaque with an engraving: Larry Lawrence.

  He opens the door to his office, and there's a small waiting room with olive colored chairs, and a small table with an old Sports Illustrated on it. It's pre era zombie, and has some no name college basketball player on the cover, big smile, with "Smexy" written underneath as he slam dunks and hangs on the rim.

  "Have a seat," he dumps me into a seat. All over the walls are pictures of Larry in barbarian outfits, or striking a pose in a karate outfit, or riding horses shirtless, or lifting two girls on his shoulders as he rides a horse. The only unchanged feature between the man in the pictures and the out of shape behemoth ape standing over me now is the moronic grin. He has that stupid, artificial grin in every picture. And he wears it now like some guys wear ascots. Annoying, flamboyant, and I secretly wish I could pull it off. I smile back at him, but it's no ascot.

  "We won't be long," he says as he opens another door leading into a small office and ushers Riley inside. He doesn't close the door.

  "Riley," he says, "Mr. Hu said to keep an eye out for you. I know this probably hasn't been easy at all, has it?"

  I hear Riley start to sniffle. "Nobody else wants me, Larry! What am I going to do, starve on the streets?"

  "I know. I know. And now with zombies," he says. He's smug, the insincerity oozes from him like an open sore.

  "So maybe Mr. Hu, you know, maybe I can renegotiate my contract with him. You know?" she asks.

  "I honestly don't. If you still have a contract-"

  "I don't-"

  "Well, to be perfectly honest, I'm in a terrible, terrible bind here, Riley. I just started as management yesterday. I received the promotion from a hard work ethic, but a small part of me can't deny Scott Harris not showing up for three weeks is partly reason too."

  "What happened to Scott?" Riley asks.

  "We assume the worst happened for Scott. But we are a machine. All machines experience attrition. MGM needs to watch its bottom dollar. I'm comfortable in my new role," he echoes words that are not his.

  "I know, just cut out the corporate banter, Larry. They kept you after you tore your knee up." She starts to wail, "They can't keep a girl like me?" She stammers. "Because why? I'm prettier than any one that tried out. A young girl is not reliable. I'm reliable! I know the routines. I have the wardrobe."

  "This...is...wow. How do I ask this? We need the wardrobe back. Can I send you home now with Milano to gather those, or shall we do it later?"

  "OK,” Riley says between sniffles, "now is fine." Her words trail off into soft whimpers.

  "And I...well...as a former showman...I understand showing up to work in costume. But...you know...you no longer work for MGM, Riley. I'm terribly sorry. We will need the outfit you have on now, too."

  She's streaming out the tears pretty steady. In between gasps for air, she composes herself and whispers, "OK."

  "I just want you to know, Riley, I really, really admired your past work. You're a trooper from the old school. They don't make them like you anymore. Mr. Hu, as well as I, offers you our best wishes in any future endeavors."

  Riley becomes a wailing, sniveling mess. I make a stand. That old school speech was over the line. I go in the room; he's sitting behind his desk. She's standing.

  "Hey, Jerk, what kind of guy are you not to offer a seat to a lady?" I say.

  The ape looks at me, Riley's got snot bubbles percolating out of her honker. I wish I could say she has a button nose, but she doesn't. It fits her face perfectly, and it is small, just a bit...European. If her eyes were normal sized, she'd have a honker, though. I offer her a tissue from a box sitting on the ape's desk.

  "Sir," Larry - The Ape - Lawrence says, "I thought I told you to. Wait. Outside."

  "And another thing, you can't fire this girl. She gave MGM the best years of her life, and all you're gunna do is throw her out on the street? Take her shirt off her back...albeit a very, ornate, feathery...you look very pretty, Riley. You wear feathers very nicely."

  "Thank you," she offers me automatically, a reflex reaction from a girl that hears those words probably fifty times a day. Less if she hunkers down at home after every performance. But I doubt she does that, I deal in reality.

  "Run for it, Riley!" I shout. Riley stands there, I halfheartedly hold on the door jamb like I'm about to bolt. The ape stares at me.

  Then the ape begins to rise out of his chair. I gulp, very audible. I look at Riley, my eyes pleading for help. Then I gather my courage and say, "Now you-"

  "Sit down, Larry Larry, I'll have you know I know karate. And my karate can beat the crap out of your ju-jitsu any day."

  I wish I said that line, but it came from Riley. I said, "Now you listen to reason," but what she said was more effective.

  I look at her admiringly; offer her another tissue because she's got snot running all over the sequins. That must be hell on the dry cleaning budget.

  "Here, you want the shirt off my back, Larry? You ass kissing has been? Take it!" She starts taking off the ostrich feathers. Larry picks up the phone, but luckily, they're up and down these days. So I see him struggle as he pretends the line is working.

  Riley starts undressing. As much as I wish I knew karate, or were a few inches taller. As much as I wish I studied just a little harder in school, or didn't resemble Paul Williams so much. More hair, money, cleaner fingernails, you name it. Above and beyond all things, I wish I didn't faint when I saw such a beautiful girl in a nude colored body stocking.

  Of course, I fainted.