Page 63 of Devil Within
“Can I bring my best friend along?”
“Bring whoever,” he says. “It doesn’t matter.”
“Right. Thanks.”
“Cool.” He grabs my pencil from the desk and looks down at my sheet. “So what are you working on for your screenplay?”
“I don’t have a definite idea as yet, but I was really thinking along the lines of a camp slasher theme, but without the clichés,” I tell him.
“Oh, like Friday The 13th? I love that movie. What are the clichés though?”
“I haven’t started working on anything, to be honest,” I confess.
“Do you want me to help? I love movies and screenplays.”
I give him a small smile. “Sure.”
We spend the next half hour analysing the clichés and often used plot lines that are clearly lacking to who my villain is going to be.
“No virgin used as targets or bullied teens that turned into killers and now stalk the camp,” I say.
“Yes,” Blake taps the pencil against his bottom lip. “Those are always used.”
“I really love the idea of an Eldrich Abomination though,” I say. “And I can’t believe you also read H.P. Lovecraft.”
“Eldrich Abominations are the root of fear. If you add that to your script, it’s bound to make everyone go crazy.” He sits back in his chair. “And Lovecraft is the reason I love writing. He was the father of horror novels.”
“So you play hockey, have a band and love reading as well as writing.” I can’t hide the disbelief in my voice.
Blake rolls his eyes as he runs his hand through his hair. Something, I’ve noticed him doing quite a lot. Well, his hair does look super soft.
Back to the subject, please.
“Are you being sexist? If you are then I’m here to tell you that I can cook as well, Miss, and clean my room and tidy up after myself.” A serious look settles between those blue eyes.
I let out a laugh and hold my hands up in defence. “I’m not being sexist, I just had no faith left in 21st Century men. Do you really blame me if I didn’t expect you to be the “fuckboy” cliché?”
“Okay.” He grins. “You have a point and I don’t blame you, but just know that not all of us make up for the rest of the idiots out there.”
I nod. “Noted.”
“Okay, we’re done for the day,” Mr Hall, the Creative Writing Professor says as he dismisses the class. “I’m hoping to see some concrete work done by next week Monday as we’ll be reading out some of those screenplays.”
Blake stands up as I pack my things away. “I’ll see you at Ryder’s bar around 9:30-ish?”
“I’ll see you there.”
“Thanks again,” he says flashing me a warm smile, before disappearing with the rest of the crowd.
I press my head against the desk and hope for an evening with zero drama and hopefully a strong drink to erase my thoughts.
39
Ryder’s Bar
Parker
Ryder’s Bar is a local bar in Manhattan. Wedged in the East Side of town, it’s not as glam as the Éclipse nightclub Hudson took me to when we first did body shots, but it’s warm and buzzing with all kinds of people.