Chapter 51.5: Information EmBasGo (Patreon)

Chapter 51.5: Information EmBasGo

Bas’ Caravan, Leavesden. November 2009.

Sinewy bands of muscle were constricting me to death. “Guh-kh.” There was a python strangling me.

I writhed and wriggled until I wormed a single solitary arm free. As soon as I slipped it out, I grew hopeful the rest of me could escape, too. Immediately, bulging, slithering meat plugged all the gaps. 

This wasn’t a dream. This wasn’t me filming a reshoot of the Nagini attack in Godric’s Hollow. “Ssss-!” I hissed. Chilly scales scraped themselves along my warm, swollen skin. The cold-blooded predator wasn’t satisfied with merely draining the life out of me; It wanted to sap the very heat from my body, too. 

I was on my last limb - literally. My free hand desperately clawed the surface beside me, yet my scrabbling nails found no purchase, only the mocking smoothness of silk. But even if I had managed to get a grip, my attempt would’ve proved futile. Corded steel coiled around my legs, my arms, and even my neck. All I could do was beg for - “h-help!” 

Then, just as I was about to relinquish faith in the persistent darkness - a ray of light. Shring! The curtains to my bedroom parted, a pillar of sunshine descended upon me, carrying hope. “Svegliati, Mr Rhys. It is time to wake up.” Fedex stood there, her silhouette stalwart in the middle of the dancing dust motes, beams of brightness framing her angelic form like a halo of salvation. I’d cry, but I was long since too dehydrated to do so. “You should hurry to get ready. You are expected in the editing bay, no?”

“Gimme a hand here, will you? The only one visiting the editors will be a ghost, if this keeps up.” 

“Gurney or gun?”

“Are you asking if I’m too injured, or are you asking if I need a weapon to free myself?”

“No. I am asking if you would prefer I call an ambulance in advance, or if you would prefer to be put out of your misery faster for when Ms Specter confronts you.” Fedex’s eyes panned over to Emma beside me. “Both.”

I felt another chill zoom up my spine - although that might’ve had more to do with my bedmate using me as a hot water bottle for her perpetually cold feet. “Just get me a cushion, will you? I need to get my day started. Bring me the long one from the sofa.”

Fedex did as told, and soon I had an effective body double to swap myself out with. Gingerly, I successfully performed the ol’ hug and roll, and carefully substituted the cushion for my figure, so that she wouldn’t immediately wake up at the loss of weight next to her. I was already in a bed of snakes. The last thing I needed was a boulder suddenly hurtling toward me, too. “Mmph, five more minutes…” She stirred for barely a second before burying her face in the cushion. Success.

Have you ever heard a pillow pop? No? Me neither. I’d come to learn, however, that if anyone could burst a bolster, it would be Emma.

“Oof…” Most people like cracking their backs in the morning. My ribs would concur should I give them an opportunity. The bruise was turning greenish yellow, which meant I was well on the mend, but I was still careful as I stretched and got to my feet. 

“Are you sure you do not need a gurney?”

“How about instead of sassing me,” that was my job and my job alone, “you make yourself useful and get me some breakfast?”

“Very well, I shall prepare some spare ribs.” Fedex was quick with the delivery. 

“Don’t do that!” She ignored me and walked into the kitchenette. “Those are for the editors, damn it.” 

“Brush your teeth. I shall reheat your offering in your stead. They cannot stomach any meal with your breath the way it is.”  

To the untrained observer, it may appear that Fedex was getting the better of me. She was, I just didn’t wanna admit it. Her humour was drier than my entire body felt right now - I’d been wrung out of every drop of moisture. My mouth reeked, my jaw was sore, my tongue was raw from flickering, and my little snake had gone into hibernation. It wasn’t a morning wood I woke up in, but a sleepy hollow.

When it became readily apparent that Emma was planning on spending the night, I never imagined that I’d be in for a prude awakening. 

Pardon the puns, but a night of fun tends to addle my brains the next morning. 

After I’d freshened up, Fedex met me outside the loo door with a tiffin in hand. She passed the bundle to me and waved me out the door. “Have a good day, Mr Rhys. Maybe if you return with due haste, you might be able to indulge in a little… afternoon delight?” 

Would you look at that? My salivary glands were working again - guess I wasn’t as dehydrated as I thought. “I’ll be right back!” 

–

The Cutting Room, Leavesden. November 2009.

One droopy eye peeked through the dark gap from the barely ajar gateway into the editor’s domain. “What’s the password?” Not a smile, not a greeting, not even a knock-knock joke.

“Yum Cha.” My answer served as a pick-me-up for the pair of dark circles suddenly lifting their bags in relief. Hopefully, our ritual spot of tea would bring Mark Day back from the brink of his apparent all-nighter. Know the feeling.

“Get in.” Mark swung the door all the way open, blasting me with the freezing gust of air conditioning and the lingering stench of caffeine fueled overwork.

“Here’s my entry fee.” I handed him the brunch hamper and strolled inside the dark room. Thankfully, I wasn’t left totally blind, because an entire city of blinking lights was guiding my path to the computer station. 

“Grab your seat. We’ve got a rather tall order to fill.” Or at least I imagine that’s what Mark was trying to say. His cheeks were presently too busy imitating a hungry gerbil, so all that came out was a long string of garbled mmphs and grrs. I did as bid; twirling in my rolly-chair while I waited for him to down the last of his meal with a last gulp and swirl of tea.

“Oh, that’s loads better. Feel alive again - recharged and re-energised. Now, stop faffing about; the colour grading isn’t gonna fix itself - for either film, mind you.”

“Wait, you’re working on both parts simultaneously?” We’d shot tiny bits for what was going to be in part two, but not enough to warrant a double dose of editing on Mark’s end, surely.

“Ooh Yes! Trying to find my balance for a consistent foundation despite two different visions.”

Diff-? Seeing as there wasn’t anyone else here right now, it didn’t take Sherlock to figure out why he was in such a decrepit state. “Did it not occur to you to maybe, I don’t know, use the rest of our extremely diligent editing team to help you lighten the load?”

Mark started clacking away on autodesk with the manic dynamism of a coked up maestro. “Don’t you worry your pretty little head about those layabouts. If I have anything to say about it - and I most certainly do - they’ll be swinging from fucking Notre Dam when I’m done with them.” Hunchbacks and nerd necks, I assume; the inevitable fate of a desk jockey.

“Still. We could stand to have someone elsewhere with us. It’s bloody depressing slogging it out here with you alone.”

“Heyman’s asked me to keep things low key so nobody goes off and rings the alarm bells. I’m not going at this as solo as you think.”

Cryptic. “What do you mean? Are we talking good news or bad news?”

The hinge on the door squeaked as it opened and shut behind us. A third voice entered the conversation. “I would like to hope that my presence is not considered, as you say, the bad news, Bas.”

“You-!?”

–

Bas’ Caravan, Leavesden. November 2009.

Like the miles of film I’d spent most of the morning parsing through, I was absolutely reeling. 

Recovering my equilibrium, however, is shaping up to be an impossible task. I’d made the erroneous assumption that slipping from Emma’s grasp would’ve seen me free for the rest of the day. The combo startling revelation and carnal anticipation left me woefully unprepared for the Anitaconda poised to strike as soon as I re-entered my lair. 

In the brief time we spent together with Steve Irwin, I learned an encyclopaedia’s worth of information. One of the key lessons he imparted is that when encountering a high venomous predator, my best course of action was to back away slowly. I had a single chance to get out unscathed. Most of Anita’s attention was directed towards Emma. “Easy there, fella.” I raised my hands in surrender. Anita’s eyes snapped to me, and I reached halfway down the steps to the trailer door. Before I could hop out and make a break for it, however, Fedex appeared from behind the door, shut it, locked it, and barred my exit route completely. 

“Do you really think you could get away from me? I’ve got eyes on the back of my head.”

Said pair of eyes placed her palms on my back and pushed me back into the room proper. “You made good time, Mr Rhys. It is reassuring to know that I am capable of incentivising you. More verses for the bible, no?”

“Care to explain yourselves?” Not really, Anita. Emma wasn’t gonna be much help, either. Under our agent’s pit viper glare, she was blushing infra-red. 

Truth is what you make it, and I shall be attempting to make it a mockery. “Nothing to explain, baby. We were just hanging out.”

“The only things hanging out were your privates!”

“Take a gander, Specter. I’ve got trousers and pants on. Plus, Emma’s wearing a shirt, isn’t she?”

“Yes. Yours!” 

Emma piped up. “It’s alright, Bas. The jig is up.” Please, I could dance the mamba all night.

“Nah. She’d got no proof. As far as I’m concerned, we rehearsed into the night like the dedicated workers we are. So you decided to sleepover because it got too late. Got any evidence to disprove that?”

Anita puffed up and inhaled. “Think of the smell! You haven’t thought of the smell, you bitch!” Ah, well, there is that. “Look, I’m gonna keep this simple. How you two want to define your relationship is entirely your decision, with all the good and bad that’ll come from it. You guys wanna go on a royal tour announcing your nuptials? I’ll get the commonwealth ready. You guys wanna slink around in the dark of night? I’ll keep the paps at bay. Even if you guys wanna dance around each other, I’ll hire a DJ who’ll set whatever mood you’re in. I just need the low-down so I can construct the narrative.”

As much as I’d like to say I gave a shit, I didn’t. The majority of my dalliances were dictated by the fairer sex. Serious or chill. Visible or hidden. 

Gemma used to like the parade, Keiko and Nat wanted it kept quiet, and Lea didn’t give a toss. I still cared for them all the same - Emma would be the exception only because I felt more for her. Ultimately, though, she had to establish it. 

Plonking down, I threw an arm over Emma’s shoulders and tucked her in. “Since I’m clearly the one who wears the pants in this equation, I fear it’s only right that I alone set the terms. So, here’s my decree. Emma - the choice rests solely with you. You have me; in whatever way you wish.” I don’t say this because I put pussy on a pedestal, but the out-and-out reality of it was, regardless of what my dating life is, my professional reputation wouldn’t be volatile. The same can’t be said for young actresses.

“Oh, Bas!” The boa was back, her arms choked me again. “I was so worried you would have thought poorly of me if I said anything that wasn’t a public announcement of us dating.”

Gasp! That was an instant decision if there ever was one. “Is that all I am to you? A dirty little secret?”

Further teasing would have to wait, because she unwound herself from me, and mushed my cheeks. “Please, please, please don’t misunderstand what I’m saying. Everything in my heart tells me to throw caution to the wind and let things play out as they might. But I don’t want my career overshadowed by this-”

“Which it totally will be.” Anita provided her expert opinion.

“Last night wasn’t the last of it. I’ve waited years for you to glance my way; don’t assume I want to wake from this dream in a hurry. But we’re both at such a pivotal point in our lives - It’s blink and you miss it. We need to preserve what we’ve captured, if that makes any sense? Oh, it doesn’t, does it? I’m just babbling and you think I’m horrible!” Her frizzy hair flapped everywhere, the frazzled frustration was cute. Luckily for her, I was fluent in insane, so I translated. 

Grabbing her wrists, I pulled her hands away from my face - but only long enough to place a couple of calming kisses on her fingers. “One night isn’t enough and forever is too far away. How about we just be for now?” Discreetly, that is. “Sure, Em. I wanted you all to myself, anyway.”

She tried to lunge at me, but my grip stymied that unlike her tears, which were threatening to spill. “Me too-you-I mean-I want you too!”

“Hey, there’s nothing to cry about. This is easy-peasy. We basically just had our first fight and got through that too, eh?”

“Prat!” Her laugh was wet, but at least her cheeks stayed dry. 

“That settles it, then. You kids have your fun, while we all collectively keep it hush-hush. No cute little hand holding, no cuddling when you think no one’s looking, which also means you two will have to do your utmost to actually try to observe the world around you rather than make constant googly eyes at each other. No PDA of any kind, you hear me?”

Agreed. Things had gotten too saccharine for me as well. Time to spice it up some. “Can I at least put my P or D in her A?”

I braced myself for a smack, but went un-hit despite flinching. When I turned to Emma in confusion, the look she gave me was considering rather than cross. “If that is your preferred method of reconciliation… I’d be willing to try it.”

Anita and Fedex teleported out of the room before I’d finished unbuckling my trousers. Emma had successfully charmed the snake - and now it was finally time I sunk my fangs in.