This is my first attempt at flash fiction. I have Annie Arcane to thank for getting me into this. Unless this sucks, in which case I blame Annie Arcane.
Slamming doors and broken glass
My hands are deep in the box of house keys the Foley sound artist insists will mimic a crashing window for the fight scene we’re recording.
And I’d agree with the sound artists if he wasn’t such a know-it-all jerk. Sure, as the lowly intern what do I know. A degree in film from NYU doesn’t mean jack-shit to Mr. Sam Riley, the most sought after, and hottest, Foley guy in the biz.
“Try it again. This time shake the box instead of just mushing them with your hands.” Riley’s voice comes through from the recording booth on the other side of the glass. I spy him and his damn sexy black hair falling over his right eye.
I stretch my lips into a smile and nod. Because if I open my mouth to say anything it won’t be a polite, “Yes, sure, let’s try that.” It would be a, “You mean like I suggested in the first place?”
A few more takes and we get it. And when the last take happens, I know it’s the last one before Riley says so. I know because I recognize the sounds of shattering glass. I smile knowing I’ve actually created magic.
“You got it there. Good work.” His voice breaks through my moment of pride, but also adds to it.
“Thanks.” And I am pleased. Pleased that he finally recognized my ability, and pleased that I did win this internship spot, from all the others applicants, my recording demo was chosen. If Sam Riley could be simply brilliant and beautiful, my life would be perfect. But he had to turn into a brutal task master. Not that I haven’t thought about how hot his task mastering could be.
“Come on through,” he calls. “Leave the props for now.”
I nod and join him and the sound engineer in the booth. After standing awkwardly while they confer, Sam motions for me to follow him to the hall. He’s no Christian and I’m no Anastasia. But I do like it a little rough and Riley’s large hands and strong arms look like he could pin me to the wall and…
“Tasha, you’re doing great. I hope you’re getting everything out of this internship you hoped for.”
“I am learning a lot and it’s great working with you.” Fantasizing about you.
“No it’s not. No one likes my gruff style. But I hope I make up for it in recognizing talent. And it was your idea to shake that box of keys. So thanks. Your ideas won’t go unnoticed.”
“That means a lot to me. To be noticed by you.”
He stutter steps in the hall and comes to a stop. “I won’t cross the line and take advantage of the intern/boss position.”
“Will I always be an intern?” I invade his space to feel the heat from his arms radiate to mine.
“Just for three more months.” His voice drops, but the gravely tone vibrates against my cheek.
“And then?” I whisper.
“Then we’ll see what kind of noises you can make.”