Sunday, February 21, 2016

Finger on the Pulse of The Rich and Famous - @FlashMobWrites

Challenged myself to write this for FlashMob while on an airplane enjoying free wi-fi. Maybe next time I should include an airplane in the story.

Finger on the Pulse of The Rich and Famous

“Let’s see, today was pretty normal. I had an actress, a singer and a couple of normal people too. Nothing notable”

Sheila wrinkled her nose. It did seem like a normal day. “Who was the actress?”

“I think she was on a couple of Love Boat episodes back in the seventies. Darla something-or-other.”

“What’d she come in for?”

“Her heart.” Hank yawned. Her husband was always tired when he got home and eager to get in the shower to wash off the smell of his work. Sheila knew if she didn’t get any leads from him now he’d be too tired or disinterested in revisiting his work day to share more than he was allowed to.

“What about the singer?”

“Yea. I knew him off the bat.”

Sheila’s pulse quickened. Hank was unplugged from the entertainment world, so if he recognized the person, it had to be a big name “Who?”

“The fella who sang that one song. You know the one.”

She started rifling through the Rolling Stone covers she’d cataloged in her memory.

He cleared his throat, “Da, da, da, dum Family Auto Mart, it’s where the wheelin’ and dealin’ starts.” Hank smiled, pleased with himself. “You know that guy. The one from the commercials.”

Her stomach sank. Of course this would be the notable person that Hank would remember. Living in the middle of Hollywood, surrounded by celebrities and her husband got excited by the used car salesman.

He shook off his jacket and kissed her on the cheek, heading for the bathroom. “If it makes you happier, he at least came in with a pain pill overdose,” Hank offered.

Normally this would have been just the morsel of information she’d want to know, but a local TV commercial spokesperson didn’t have the cache anyone would be interested in gossiping about. Oscar winners, and nationally known celebrities were ideal. Even a celebutante would do if they were notorious enough.  Today she’d have to settle with Darla something-or-other.

Sheila waited until Hank was out of the room before picking up the phone and speed dialing the number she’s conspicuously labeled Dry Cleaner.

“Sheila?” came the voice on the other end of the phone. She never met him in person, only seen his organization’s name on the checks that came in the mail.

“Slow day,” she started. “You remember the actress Darla from the Love Boat?”

“I can look her up.” Sheila could hear his keyboard already clicking on the other end of the phone.

“Yea, heart failure.”

“Hmmm. That’s it?”


“Well, there’s always tomorrow,” the voice said, before hanging up.

Sheila sighed. She thought her journalism degree would lead to more than being a tabloid informant. She also thought marrying someone who had daily access to celebrities as a technician at the L.A. County Coroner’s office would have generated more leads than this.

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