Blood at the Premiere: A Day One Undead Adventure Read Online Free
Author: RR Haywood
times delivered to someone so influential and important. ‘Channel Four are the right people to be involved. Anyone else will seek the humorous side. Channel Five would just exploit the issues and…’
‘I’m not so sure about that subject,’ Dolan says, cutting across but not unkindly.
‘Women soldiers are on the front line now. How do they retain individuality of being feminine in such a male-dominated environment? Are they even trusted by the male soldiers? What about those that have been injured? With my background in bodybuilding I could really show how they regained their health and fitness while retaining their femininity…’
‘Fuck me, Henri. What the fuck you doing over here? Alright, mate. I’m Bennie, nice to meet ya,’ Bennie stumbles into the conversation grinning wildly and shoving a pumping hand at Dolan. ‘Big tits boring you, is she?’ he asks with a laugh that is too loud and too long. ‘Henri, you coming for some shots then or what? Here, hang on. Ain’t you that actor from
Emmerdale
? That farmer or sommit?’
‘I’m sorry, what?’ Dolan asks as those first so important tendrils snap cleanly through.
‘Bennie, I’ll come over in a minute,’ Henrietta says, smiling nicely but showing hard eyes.
‘THAT BLOKE FROM
EMMERDALE
IS HERE,’ Bennie shouts to the bar with an unsteady sway.
‘Young man, you have white powder on your nose,’ the rancid old haggard whore points out with a delightedly haughty tone of voice.
Lurching round, Bennie wipes the back of his hand across his mouth and nose before fixing a toothy grin on the old woman. ‘Yeah, it’s coke innit. You want some? Ha! It’s good stuff. Here, Henri. You comin’ then or what? I bet that bloke over there I could feel your tits without getting slapped…’
‘We’ll talk another day, Henrietta,’ Dolan says, quickly seizing the opportunity to extract himself from the increasingly embarrassing scene unfolding as Bennie tries to sell cocaine to the rancid old haggard whore.
Gone so fast she cannot get a word out that might prevent his egress but left instead to watch the drugged young man. Degrees of separation and if only Bennie had stayed the few metres away on the side of the room dominated by the young, foolish and beautiful instead of venturing drunk into the serious side to ruin the dreams of a woman now seeing a future of tits and smiles.
Chapter Two
The mortals that cling to the barriers
Henrietta Swallow does not give in. Every minute into the event is a calculation of movement and forward planning, and with the exit of Dolan so she gains a greater world view and another internal chastisement.
The editors. The scriptwriters. The lighting technicians. The make-up artists. The producers, directors, unit managers, sound engineers. Groups within groups but as she watches them from the relative comfort of the reality television personalities she becomes aware of something she has known for a long time. They all know one another. They all talk to one another. Lighting guys drink with the sound engineers. Sound engineers know editors who trade jokes with writers who talk to producers about the FA Cup. How could she be so blind to think she could simply step from the top of one ladder to the next? It doesn’t work like that. You go down the first ladder, step across and climb up the next.
This is her ladder. The drunk and drugged hogging the bar. The rejects from singing contests and talent shows. The nearly wons who the public reacted to and who were picked up like bait to lure the money from the masses. Doing the rounds of panel shows, chat shows, reality programmes and already peaking at the height of their fame before they slide to obscurity and watch the likes on their Facebook pages dwindle by the thousands. This is her ladder and like the queen at the top she holds court over them all.
Plied with drinks. Flirted with. Chatted to. Some are respectful and polite. Others step over that line with hands on
‘I’m not so sure about that subject,’ Dolan says, cutting across but not unkindly.
‘Women soldiers are on the front line now. How do they retain individuality of being feminine in such a male-dominated environment? Are they even trusted by the male soldiers? What about those that have been injured? With my background in bodybuilding I could really show how they regained their health and fitness while retaining their femininity…’
‘Fuck me, Henri. What the fuck you doing over here? Alright, mate. I’m Bennie, nice to meet ya,’ Bennie stumbles into the conversation grinning wildly and shoving a pumping hand at Dolan. ‘Big tits boring you, is she?’ he asks with a laugh that is too loud and too long. ‘Henri, you coming for some shots then or what? Here, hang on. Ain’t you that actor from
Emmerdale
? That farmer or sommit?’
‘I’m sorry, what?’ Dolan asks as those first so important tendrils snap cleanly through.
‘Bennie, I’ll come over in a minute,’ Henrietta says, smiling nicely but showing hard eyes.
‘THAT BLOKE FROM
EMMERDALE
IS HERE,’ Bennie shouts to the bar with an unsteady sway.
‘Young man, you have white powder on your nose,’ the rancid old haggard whore points out with a delightedly haughty tone of voice.
Lurching round, Bennie wipes the back of his hand across his mouth and nose before fixing a toothy grin on the old woman. ‘Yeah, it’s coke innit. You want some? Ha! It’s good stuff. Here, Henri. You comin’ then or what? I bet that bloke over there I could feel your tits without getting slapped…’
‘We’ll talk another day, Henrietta,’ Dolan says, quickly seizing the opportunity to extract himself from the increasingly embarrassing scene unfolding as Bennie tries to sell cocaine to the rancid old haggard whore.
Gone so fast she cannot get a word out that might prevent his egress but left instead to watch the drugged young man. Degrees of separation and if only Bennie had stayed the few metres away on the side of the room dominated by the young, foolish and beautiful instead of venturing drunk into the serious side to ruin the dreams of a woman now seeing a future of tits and smiles.
Chapter Two
The mortals that cling to the barriers
Henrietta Swallow does not give in. Every minute into the event is a calculation of movement and forward planning, and with the exit of Dolan so she gains a greater world view and another internal chastisement.
The editors. The scriptwriters. The lighting technicians. The make-up artists. The producers, directors, unit managers, sound engineers. Groups within groups but as she watches them from the relative comfort of the reality television personalities she becomes aware of something she has known for a long time. They all know one another. They all talk to one another. Lighting guys drink with the sound engineers. Sound engineers know editors who trade jokes with writers who talk to producers about the FA Cup. How could she be so blind to think she could simply step from the top of one ladder to the next? It doesn’t work like that. You go down the first ladder, step across and climb up the next.
This is her ladder. The drunk and drugged hogging the bar. The rejects from singing contests and talent shows. The nearly wons who the public reacted to and who were picked up like bait to lure the money from the masses. Doing the rounds of panel shows, chat shows, reality programmes and already peaking at the height of their fame before they slide to obscurity and watch the likes on their Facebook pages dwindle by the thousands. This is her ladder and like the queen at the top she holds court over them all.
Plied with drinks. Flirted with. Chatted to. Some are respectful and polite. Others step over that line with hands on
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