“Thomas!” a young woman shook the man, who sat up unexpectedly, making her jump. She was wearing all red, a cap on her head and a coin dispenser on her hip.
“Beth? What are you doin’ here!?” he looked down to see the not so luxurious stained hoodie and ripped jeans. Studying the rows of seats, he didn’t see the smiling faces looking
back at him.
“I was just makin’ my rounds through all the Areas. What are you--?” she trailed off, following Thomas' eye to the nonexistent audience.
“Ge-get off me,” he frowned, pulling away from the ticket collector.
“Right, sorry bout’ that. The better question is why are you here? I thought you resigned two months ago when--,” trailing off again, she scooted away from the man.
“Actually,” Thomas took a peek back at his phone screen, where Charlie sat winking. “That’s why I’m here. I need your help with the file cabinets.” He stood tall, closely followed by Beth, who looked slightly frightened.
“Oh, well I think I can help you there,” she brushed the dust off her slacks and pulled down her uniform. “Follow me. The office is right this way,” she stomped her way to the smaller room to the side of the stage, Thomas following closely behind.
He glanced back where Charlie stood, dangling on strings, yet only a pane of glass remained, his dark reflection and red being the only thing he could see.
“Here we are mister,” Beth unlocked the office doors, but was suddenly knocked aside as Thomas' hunger grew ever more.
“Where is it?!” he fumbled with many papers on a desk, knocking off various stationary like scissors and pens. Facing a cork board, her tore it down with one simple swish of his hand, looking behind it for the hidden paper.
“What in Davy Jone’s Locker are you lookin’ for?!” Beth reached for Thomas' shoulder, which was shaken off immediately.
“The papers! The ruddy papers where the hell are they?!” Thomas looked devilish, smoke pouring out of his narrow nose and ears. Looking all around the room, he found a monitor where Charlie sat, looking rather unaffected by her friend’s frantic.
“honey calm down, ask her where the guest list is for the day of our showing,” Charlie picked an insect leg out of her teeth, flicking it across the screen.
Thomas took a deep breath, unclenching his fists. “Beth. Could you show me where the VIP guest lists are? Specifically dating back two months ago.”
“Oh! When was tha--,” she stopped herself, realising it had hit a soft spot in Thomas, whose face had turned many shades of scarlet and violet. “Nevermind, sorry Tom. The archived cabinets are over here,” she said softly, ambling over to a very large dark and dusty cabinet. Flipping through the files, she arrived on April, pulling out a huge file. “Ah, I remember that month. We had so many guests! Your show really cranked up the bucks! It’s a shame what happened…”
“What happened?” Thomas moved over to Beth, breathing on her with anticipation.
“Right,” she gave him a weak smile, clicking her empty coin collector nervously. “Here we are! April 23rd. The list is pretty long so you will want to go--,” he grabbed the stack out of her hands, making the rest of the April files fall onto the ground. “Hey! Don’t do that now imma have to resort em’ all!”
Thomas ignored her, moving down the alphabetical list into the C’s. “Cameron Diles.”
“Who?” Beth snorted, on the floor sorting through the pile of loose papers, lazily shoving them into the folder.
“Cameron Diles! I remember him, rude little fellow. Helped with the lighting,” he paced around the cluttered office. “Blinded my darling. Nasty fella’,” he said to himself so Beth could only hear an utterance of words coming from his general direction. “We can do it now Charlie! I can put on your show!” he looked into the desktop, where the actress sat smiling back into the lit up eyes of her colleague.
“What about Charlie--,” Beth started, before the wiggling of the knob began. They both jumped when an older man swung the door open, looking furious.
“Beth your shift ended fifteen minutes ag--,” he was interjected by the very, very tall man standing before him, Thomas' stomach puffing out to meet the other man’s chest.
His eyes scrunched up a little, turning his head. “Thomas? As in Thomas T?! What are you doing here? And, Beth, what are you helping him with? Are those the VIP lists?! Someone tell me what exactly is happening here!” he stood erect, trying to match Thomas' height as best as he could.
“Oh, boy,” Charlie sighed from the desk. Thomas looked over at the computer for her. “We’re gonna have to take care of him. Still got ma lucky glove?”
Thomas pulled a white glove from his pocket, painted red as white roses are. He looked back at Charlie, nodding.
“Use it,” Charlie spat bitterly, gesturing to her neck, wrapping her hands around her mouth and falling back into the technology.
Once she was gone from the screen, Thomas knew what to do.
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