Murder’s set began. She walked out to Scott Weiland’s Lady, Your Roof Brings Me Down. She loved a good modern electric guitar waltz. She surveyed the crowd for Grant and didn’t see him. She felt the coldest chill. Hopefully, he was just being extra watchful right outside the door. A few songs in, and she finally saw him. He was following a woman. A rather average-looking, brown-haired, late thirty-something woman who grabbed his hand and whispered something in his ear.
She realized she had stopped singing in the middle of a line. She couldn’t believe her eyes. Grant was kissing her!
The ballroom erupted in a collision of sounds and commotion as Murder’s guitar shattered to a hundred tiny pieces against the stage floor. She cried as she ran from the stage. The crowd gasped and yelled in shock. They chanted for her. Due to the Film Forum photos on the gossip columns, and her song dedication to Grant the previous night, everyone now knew that Lady Dreamscapes was Murder LaVoe. The crowd yelled MUR-DER! MUR-DER!
In that moment, she wanted to murder someone, but all she could do was cry.
***
When Grant snapped out of his stupor, he was outside.
Giselle walked by.
He was disoriented. She spat in his face. “You’re a horrible man and a fool!” She snapped.
He remembered it all very quickly, except how he got outside. He decided to be scarce for a moment as he collected his thoughts.
He called Maxwell’s cell. He didn’t answer. Grant didn’t know it, but he was inside defending his honor.
***
“I know how this looks Ms. LaVoe, but this whole thing doesn’t track. Something is wrong with Grant.”
Levi rolled his eyes. “He’s a despicable prick, that’s what’s wrong with him.”
Murder came to his defense. “No. Maxwell’s right. Something is wrong. I felt it. Levi, please find him. I’m going to finish this set.”
She wiped her eyes with the handkerchief she had claimed for her own and grabbed the backup telecaster.
***
Levi walked the block around the hotel calling for Grant. He found Giselle and relayed what Murder had tasked him to. Giselle covered her mouth with her hand. She shook her head.
“I spat in the poor boy’s face.”
“You did the right thing based on your knowledge of the situation. We also need to keep our eyes open for the brown-haired woman. Maxwell thinks this might have been the attack we expec— well, not the kind we expected. Oh, and the blond man, Colin.” He showed her his photo.
***
Grant found his way backstage to where Maxwell was on watch.
“Oh, Grant! I’m glad you're okay.” Maxwell hugged his old friend. “I defended you, and she believes in you. She only lost faith for a moment. Levi is out looking for you. I’ll call him.”
“Thank you, but she shouldn’t have had to lose faith, even for a moment. I failed, and that woman made me rip her heart out. I had no recourse. Maybe... I let my guard down? I’m so confused.”
“You’ve been enthralled,” Maxwell said studying him, looking into his eyes.
“God, I hope not.”
***
Murder’s set ended. The crowd screamed for her to do an encore. She removed the mask to reveal her face and her American accent.
“I have something I have to do right away. Thank you for coming and I love you all. Well, except that nasty woman that tried to steal my Grant away. Don’t worry. I removed her spell and she will rue the day she messed with Lady Dreamscapes!”
The crowd cheered and they believed it all to be part of the act. She stepped through the curtain. She was relieved to see Grant alive. If his story wasn’t good, she wanted to reserve the right to kill him herself.
He walked sheepishly towards her. “I’m so sorry,” he cried as she pulled him tightly. “It was like Frankenstein and the man who eats grasshoppers.” He paused and tried to say it again. “No I mean Dra-a-c— It was like I was looking out of my own eyes as someone else pulled the strings. Like a creepy marionette.”
“Do you know who that woman was? Grant, what is going on?”
“Yes, when she was controlling me, she flickered. Like she didn’t have enough power to hold her drab.”
“Drab?”
“The wrong words come out. Like my brain is scrambled. Like Grandma Ethel.”
Maxwell held up a magnifying glass to him. It glowed ever so slightly. “Magical Aphasia!”
“What?” Grant and Murder asked in unison. They half smiled.
“It took a moment, but my heart won over my eyes. I knew deep inside that you wouldn’t betray me like that.”
“Never.”
“If I say Nancy and then say I’m getting a soda, and maybe a sandwich, then I can also say Downs, but if I try to say Nancy Reagan...see! I can’t!” He frowned.
“You can't speak to magical people about anything you think is magical.” Maxwell finished his thought for him because he knew he couldn’t. He looked at him again with the glass. “It’s getting worse.”
***
Penthouse 1:00 am
Levi was stunned. He’d read about magical aphasia. He’d never experienced it firsthand. He had thought Grant was Genre/Pop-Culture illiterate. Truth was, he was well-read in both sci-fi and fantasy. He knew his Dracula from his Twilight; he just couldn’t get it right around anyone who used, or was influenced by, anything magical.
“So clearly, Grant knows something that someone doesn’t want out in the open.”
“Yes,” Murder agreed, and looked at Grant. “That’s probably why that dreadful woman was in your head anyway. The kiss was just for fun and to make me upset. Shooting me was one thing… I really hate her.”
Grant leaned back in his chair. “I even know exactly who she is, but it’s like when I try to tell you I get the wrong words. I’m trying to think of an indirect, nonspecific way to say it. When I try to say Anna Karenina, nope. That’s not right. Maybe I can say Natalie? Yes! Portman, Dormer!”
Murder’s level of shock at the revelation was much less than he’d anticipated.
“But why would Mother do that to me?”
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