The Best Shot - C. Grant Maxwell

Another Short Story for Morbid Ink Magazine

I added in some of the pictures used in the magazine.

“Don’t look so miserable, Lee.”

“That’s how I look when I need to write a review on a crappy movie like that!” I replied. “Queeny, don’t they have film schools anymore?”

Tonya Queen laughed at me, and I eyed her with a smirk. That’s how our date nights seemed to go lately. We follow a similar routine. I’d take her to a movie which I needed to review. Then we’d sit through something either atrocious or boringly the same. Tonight, I carried decent hope for yet another adaptation of The Cabinet of Doctor Caligari. It turned out to be an overly pretentious waste of time, which made me want to gag.

“It’ll gross enough to suit the boss,” she sparkled while locking her arm with mine.

Her other hand held her phone where she used her thumb to flip through an app with amazing speed. I paid little attention as we walked through the small lobby of the renovated art house cinema. The place kept the ambiance of the past, with art déco décor and red carpet. Despite our casual clothing, it wasn’t hard to make believe we were leaving a golden age film from seventy years ago. 

“Well, making money is what art is all about,” I groused while pushing open the door. “Horror sells, even when you’ve got the junk actors trying to do Shakespeare. So, what do you expect this time?”

“Oh, it’ll do alright,” my date replied casually. “The margins are good since we’re not dealing with the green screen. Low budget means we’re probably close to fifty mil profit when we shake it out through distribution and streaming.”

My automatic nod at Queeny’s explanation came because I already knew she was a financial whiz kid. I let her ramble on because she really got into the numbers. After all, the executive producer of the film didn’t hire her to lose money on his media projects.

“So, it’s your turn to pick the next place,” I reminded Tonya.

“Oh, we’re invited to a party. I’ve already got us a ride.” She released my arm and pointed to a ride share car waiting for us.

“Anybody we know at this party?” My annoyance showed up in my tone.

Tonya chuckled at me as she waited. She eyed the back door of the car. With a sigh, I played the servant’s role and opened it.

“Thank you,” she smirked as she slid into the seat. “Also, there’s probably no one there you’ll like. But it’s free booze and food, so you’ll fit right in.”

After I slid in next to her, the woman gave the address to the driver.

“By the way, holding a door open for a woman is benevolent sexism now. Your friends won’t like it.” I leaned over and kissed her on the cheek.

“I’m still royalty, so they can deal with it.” Tonya stated with a smile.

We arrived at a mini mansion in the suburbs after following a winding path through the foothills. A dozen cars parked in the circular front driveway told us we were in front of the right house. I followed my date inside with mild trepidation. She knew I liked more intimate settings with our group of friends. However, her boss invited her to the party, so getting out of it was an impossible task. I got her to agree we could skip out early.

Aspy Cinder stood at the door when we arrived. No doubt because Queeny notified her already since my girlfriend seldom looked up from texting away on her phone. The woman at the door was short and overweight, but she held keen and cold green eyes. Her comfortable clothing of slacks and a blouse made her look more like a housewife than a major player in the film industry. She was one of the few producers in Georgia who could pull a profit out of the worst tripe they called movies. Aspy was also notorious for her ability to get inside information within the industry.

“You’re late!” she informed us with a hint of a Southern drawl and a smile.

“Blame him,” Queeny didn’t look up from her phone as she nodded to me. “I’m finishing the Murdock deal. He’ll be on your calendar for the fifteenth.”

“Don’t you let this girl stop working for me,” Aspy hugged me lightly.

“Please, she lives for this stuff.” I replied with a sigh.

“No doubt, she’s got a one-track mind. That girl knows how to make me money,” the producer agreed.

She hugged Tonya when she finished her text.

“Well, both of you are wrong,” Queeny replied. “So, where’s the food?”

“It’s in the kitchen, of course,” Aspy smirked as she pointed to the back. “We’ll talk later. I’ve got a couple of potential clients we need to line up for the next project.”

She left them and the couple wandered through the multiple groups. Tonya stopped several times to speak with those she knew while I looked on. When we finally made it to the kitchen, I grabbed a bottle of hard cider for both of us. Queeny insisted on a glass, so I made her kiss me on the cheek to act as her bartender.

“I thought I saw the resident critic come in.” the familiar, irritating voice caught our attention.

“Hey, J.J., I didn’t think Aspy allowed the cockroaches into her kitchen.” I sent a shot over the bow.

“Lee, you’re still an asshole without an amusing bone in your body,” James Earle Joyce said as he planted himself in front of Queeny.

“Dump this guy. He’ll only drag you down, honey!”

“It’s too late,” the woman smiled lightly, then winked at me. “Where’s Clarance?”

“Oh, he’s stumbling around. I should go find him since he’s been eying one waiter. He’s such a bitch in heat at these things, but that’s why I love him.” The man waved his hand in the air dismissively.

“Have you heard about Ulrich’s new project?”

Now, the question got my attention. J.J. had a knack for getting information about the slimiest side of movies and actors. That was Joyce’s method, which he rehashed as insider news. It got him paid enough as a streamer to enter the world of producing movies. Tonya told me the guy had a good sense of backing the right concepts to make money.

As for Armold Ulrich, his name came with plenty of slime attached. The guy started off as a vtuber who gained notoriety with strange porno and cartoons before somehow getting into low-budget horror. Ulrich quickly became synonymous with pushing actors to the limits in truly terrifying situations. 

I watched Tonya’s reaction with interest. Her expression remained stoic, but I felt the icy gaze in her eyes. She despised Armold Ulrich with every fiber of her lean body. The director broke young actors and actresses who left the industry while he exploited them. It got so bad; he left the states for a while. Tonya dealt with him once when she just started out as an actress. She never spoke about it to me, but the hateful vibes she gave were enough to not mention it.

“So, that bastard hasn’t died yet?” She deadpanned.

“No, deary. Sad but true, he’s still around,” J.J. grinned. “He’s got a super-secret project that he’s only getting a few people involved. Clarence and I ran into him the other day and he gave us an exclusive look at the concept. I’m afraid you’ll need to see my latest write up about it.”

He leaned over with a conspiratorial air.

“It’s called The Unseen, and I can tell you it’ll make a big splash! Maybe like the first Blair project.”

My eyes widened at that. This town isn’t Hollywood, and a lot of money floating around comes from news and sports networks. But two hundred million on a low-end budget will get people’s gums flapping. Also, Joyce obviously was pitching this for his cut.

No wonder he’s here. He’s already selling the concept to producers!

The slimeball in front of us must have partnered with Ulrich. It wasn’t too surprising. J.J. lacked any scruples when it came to money. Nobody wanted to work with Ulrich after his last movie. Shot in Central America, Ulrich’s Torture King was a cruel gore film that carried some of the worse examples of sadistic violence. Sordidly moving beyond tastelessness, the movie carried a nasty rumor. Ulrich simply filmed cartel gang violence up close and personal to make a splatter fest. No need for special effects when one human will hack apart another for a few bucks. I certainly wouldn’t put it past the guy. Certainly, his reputation went downhill after leaving the states.

Damn it, J.J., now she’s getting drunk!

“You could triple the gross and I still would love to see him slowly drown on set from an accident,” Queeny replied coolly. She turned to me. “Another glass, dear!”

With a grimace, I nodded.

Our drive back to the apartment was quiet. Tonya was leaning on my shoulder, unconscious from too much cider. Fortunately, she threw up right before we got in the car. Still, her breath stunk to high heaven. Thinking about the conversation, J.J. even tried to pitch the idea of Queeny acting in Ulrich’s new film. Of course, Tonya shut that down immediately. She quit acting after her experience with Ulrich in the first place.

Right before we left, I found myself surprised at the unexpected invitation from Joyce who sent me a text invite to see some of the dailies from Ulrich’s project. Now, I’m not likely to give any good press to this movie so I didn’t get the angle. My text back told J.J. I wasn’t into gore. Almost immediately, he replied.

“It not along those lines, but it’s more of an interactive experience. It’s how the future of films will happen.”

Thinking about the man’s comment, I put my phone back in my pocket without a response.

~~~

Over the next week, I heard nothing more from J.J. Not that I was really paying attention. Our lives continued to stay busy. A few days after the party, Tonya told me her boss had talked with J.J. that night. However, nothing came of the conversation. My instinct told me that Aspy would never finance something which might hurt her financial wizard, Queeny. Even if she believed there’s no such thing as bad publicity, I was pretty sure Aspy wasn’t about to get involved in something risky. It wasn’t her way, and Tony confirmed my hunch.

When Friday rolled around, I finished up my movie review, which I sent to the editor. After a quick video meeting with one newspaper that still found column space for movie reviews, I suddenly got a call from Aspy. She asked about the whereabouts of Tonya.

“I’m not sure.” My confusion came out on the call. “She told me this morning she was coming to see you today. Didn’t Queeny text you?”

“Oh, she did, but she didn’t arrive for lunch. I’ve tried texting her several times with no response. I wondered if you kidnapped her early for a long weekend.” Aspy left a hint of amused frustration in her tone.

“I’m innocent,” I chuckled. “She probably just got into another meeting. Maybe the service is poor there.”

After I hung up, my mind went to the worst scenarios, only for me to shake my head at the idea. More likely we just have crossed wires, I thought.

The buzzing on my phone caught my attention, and I recognized Queeny’s number.

“Hey beautiful, you know Aspy’s looking for you?”

“H—he’s telling me you’ve got a forty-five-minute drive to Route 860 exit—off the interstate.” Tonya’s voice sounded out of it, but there was fear there as well.

Before I could ask, a male voice in the background came from the speaker.

“Lee, you got fifty minutes to get your girlfriend. Otherwise, her naked body is going to be left wandering in the hood tonight. I’m sure the gangbangers will put her to good use. Your choice, but no cops. I’m watching!”

A scuffle came through the phone.

“Lee, the bastard drugged…Lee it’s…”

I heard a slap while she struggled with the phone before the call went dead. A moment later, a text came in from her number. The picture attached showed Tonya with a ripped open blouse. There was a man’s hand holding a knife in front of her chest. Another text immediately followed with the barest directions.

Pull behind the abandoned gas station. Follow instructions attached to the pole. If I see cops, she’ll make a lot of guys happy tonight!

Son of a bitch!

For a moment, I sat there in disbelief. Finally getting my act together and growing enraged, I grabbed my keys and headed for the front door.

I need to call the cops!

As I opened the door, I stopped at the sudden thought. But I dismissed it almost immediately. There was no way I would risk it.

Turning, I opened a small closet door and pulled a leather sheath holding a hand forged boot knife from a hook on the wall. A bitter smile crept to my face as I slid the sheath into my sock and wrapped the strap around my calf. Tonya gave me the knife as a present after some asshole mugged us coming out of a restaurant downtown. Ever since that thug threatened us with a gun and stole my wallet and Rolex, she urged us to carry protection. However, the stupid city laws made it illegal to carry anything that might hurt a criminal, so the knife was mostly worthless except at home.

Now, I’m not a fool enough to think I can take on criminals like some guy wearing a hood and cape like a bat. But a bit of paranoia comes out quickly when thugs rob you in the middle of a public street and the cops don’t show up until an hour later. I never heard if they caught the bastard, but I highly suspect not. No use bringing in the bad guys to jail when the politicians just send them back out on the street.

Hurrying out the door, I checked my phone to monitor the time. Sliding into the car, I tried to remain rational. Even if my stomach is doing somersaults, my mind kept going over the reasons behind the call.

Was it a scam? Shouldn’t I call the cops first? Wait, I can do that on the road.

There was no way Tonya would pull a joke like this. And I definitely heard her voice. I remembered a news report about an old lady who lost her savings by crooks spoofing her son’s voice using some type of artificial intelligence. From the news report, it seemed she heard threats and screaming, which convinced her to fork over her life savings to some guy on the phone. From what I remembered; the new AI networks could make a fake kidnapping look authentic enough to throw your cash at crooks.

But the guy didn’t say anything about money! So, what’s the reason?

As I drove away, my hand reached into the center console for the small steel baton that expanded for self-defense. It was the backup plan that Tonya and I came up with once we realized you can’t carry a weapon like a knife around. I clipped it to my belt while trying to keep my focus on the road.

Yeah, I guess I got a little paranoid after being robbed!

By the time my car got to the freeway, I kept going back and forth in my head about calling the cops. According to the map on my phone, the exit was in Bradford County. Even if I called the police there, I wasn’t confident they would believe me. So, my thought focused on getting there to assess the situation first, since 911 works everywhere. However, I returned a call to Aspy. I let her know where I was going and that I’d let her know more when I did. Of course, I didn’t let on that Tonya was in trouble, only told her it was something vague about a car problem. Luckily, she didn’t ask about how I got the message.

When I reached the interstate, my mind kept scrambling around for answers to strange questions about the reasons behind this. The only thing I was sure about was the danger to Tonya. But drawing me into the mix made little sense. The only practical thought came from a motive. But what could it be? I took out money since the man said nothing about it.

Naturally, the only thoughts left to me were insanity or retaliation. That consideration gave me a chill. I’ve seen way too many horror movies. So, I needed to consider the possibility of a crazy bastard wanting to hurt us both.

My best guess finally came down to revenge against me. Otherwise, the guy wouldn’t have me running to get if it was against Queeny, would he? Wouldn’t he just hurt her in the first place? Either way, it still left the biggest question.

But who the hell hates me enough to do this?

Sure, I’m a film critic with plenty of ego. So, I don’t keep friends with thin skin. Most of the time, the actors, directors and producers will only like a person when they rave positively about a film. If it stinks, they get their feelings hurt. It’s the nature of the beast. Still, I’m not the only one who bashes an awful film. So, I can’t see how I’m going to be the center of a revenge plot.

Driving as fast as the traffic would let me, my feet constantly worked the pedal like a madman. On the open stretches, I floored the gas while keeping a sharp eye out for the cops. It reminded me of my decision not to call the police. It weighed on me.

Was I making the right decision?

Normally, I can live by deciding and sticking with the plan. But now, I considered the option that Tonya’s life was on the line. The knife the guy held wasn’t just for show. Everything I did might affect the outcome. Knowing I couldn’t make a mistake only made me more apprehensive since I had no plan and no idea of what lay ahead for me.

Several miles later, the traffic finally opened up. I played out a scenario in my head for when I arrived at the destination. First, I’ll check out the gas station by a drive around the area. Then I can follow the instructions while I make the call to the cops. If I play for time, the police should show up while I distract the bastard holding Tonya hostage. Even when I repeated the idea aloud, my shoulders gradually slumped. To my mind, I sounded like a John Wayne character, so sure I could stop someone who probably set up a trap for me.

God, I’m delusional!

 ~~~

I arrived ahead of schedule, taking the exit towards some town I had never heard of before. I came to a stop at the lonely highway and looked around to verify I was at the right place. Fortunately, an abandoned gas station sat half a block away. The small building of rusting white metal panels stood alone on an open lot filled with weeds and a few piles of garbage.

Looking across the highway, I noticed an open field but no other buildings. Behind the building was a line of trees. Even the old highway road bridge that ran over interstate had no cars as far as I could see. I turned into the log and stopped the car. After glancing at the text message again, my eyes focused on the old building for a bit.

Nothing moved.

Finally, I drove the car around the lot slowly while looking around for any signs of the kidnapper. Unfortunately, as I got to the back of the building, the overgrowth of small trees and dense shrubs forced me to stop. I opened the car door and used the bottom of the car door frame to look into the back lot. In the middle of an open spot, I saw two rusty poles next to the remnants of gas pump.

The bastard is playing games!

I scanned the area again. However, nothing appeared out of place. The only noise came from the interstate and the wind whipping around the brush. While I felt someone watching my movement, my focus went back to the poles. That’s when I noticed the movement on one of the poles. A closer inspection revealed something tied to the pole. After closing the car door, I looked around one more time, then headed into the overgrowth.

After retrieving the note, I unfolded the paper. The line caused me to flip it over, thinking there must be more.

It’s been a while!

A noise behind me made me turn around, and I felt a sharp pain in my shoulder. While I stood there with one hand holding the spot, fanatical eyes stared at me from behind a masked face. The stranger held up one hand. A man’s chuckle followed as he dropped the hypodermic needle he held.

“Night, night!” A distantly familiar voice said.

Turning away, I took a couple of steps and fell. The darkness painfully swallowed me as I hit the gravel.