Jane's Hidden Identity

     Jane carefully and quietly slips through the open window as she's done many times before.  But this time is not like all the others.   This time Jane is injured.  

     As blood trickles down her neck she knew the cut on her cheek would need medical attention.  How would she explain this gash when she had supposedly been shut up in her office for her quiet writing time.   She would have to think of something...and quick!  She had convinced everyone close to her that whenever inspiration hit, no matter whether day or night, she would need complete solitude as she shut herself in her office to work on her writing.  They knew how important her writing was to her so they all respected her wishes and anytime she put the "Writer at Work, Do Not Disturb" sign on her door they left her alone.  Little did they know that it was during this so called "quiet time"  that Jane was anything but quiet.

     Truth is, the quiet, mild-mannered persona that Jane portrayed to those who knew her was all an act.  In reality, she was an undercover agent for the CIA; a special tactics agent, called out in only the most top-secret assignments.  When the call came in she would retreat to her office where hidden in a secret closet, undetectable to the untrained eye, was every kind of modern, technological gadget known to man, as well as knives, guns and clothing needed for her job.  With the stealth of a cat she would slip out the window and be back before anyone realized she was gone.  But this time something went wrong.  Before she could subdue the intended prisoner, he had pulled a knife and managed to graze her cheek before she kicked it out of his hand.  The agency knew if they let their doctors sew her up she wouldn't be able to explain the stitches so the only option was to send her home and let her go to the ER.  But how was she going to explain the cut!

     Slipping back into her regular clothes and closing the secret closet Jane spotted the glass of wine sitting by her computer.  Suddenly,  she knew what she must do.  Breaking the glass and knocking a couple of papers on the floor, she ran out of the office and started screaming for Lex.  When he arrived, sounding weak and drowsy, Jane explained that she had passed out sitting at the computer and cut her cheek on the wine glass.  Believe it or not, he actually bought it!  And so did the staff at the ER, even after it took 27 stitches to close the wound.  Once again, she had managed to keep her secret identity just that...secret.

  

 

    

The end.

     This fictional story (Or is it, Jane?) was written in response to GBE2 Week #40 writing prompt.  Unfortunately, one of our writing friends, Jane, really did pass out in front of her computer and end up in the ER with 27 stitches in her cheek from a broken wine glass.  We are giving her a choice of some very creative stories she might want to use to explain her scar; much more interesting than her unbelievable version.  :D)

    

The Interview

GBE prompt - week 38 - upset

3rd chapter in the unfolding fictional story of Kari.

      Kari couldn't believe this mornings turn of events.  She had arrived at work this morning fearing she might lose her job but instead here she was driving across town to do her first big newspaper interview.  Okay, so maybe it wasn't the  interview of a lifetime, he wasn't famous or anything, but it was her first interview and her first chance to prove to herself and everyone that she was a real journalist.    It would be her first human interest story and she would show Devin and the others at the paper that her talent was being wasted as a music reviewer.  

     She couldn't shake this odd feeling in the pit of her stomach.  It had been bothering her since that strange dream about Keith last night.  She had never felt this faint gnawing before...almost like fear or dread...but of what she had no clue.   She had no reason to be apprehensive about meeting Joe Rizer, the musician.  She didn't even know him.   It must be nerves.  That was it; it had to be nerves.   But why did thoughts of Keith keep running through her mind?
     Kari walked into the club and saw Joe sitting in a booth.  As she approached him she noticed the rough lines of his face; tell-tale signs of too many late nights and hard living, visible even with his dark chocolate colored skin.  He stood as she came near and extended his hand.   Was that a look of surprise, shock or recognition that flashed in his eyes before he gathered his composure?  Of course not, they had never met before; it must have been her imagination.  She sat down and pulled out her notepad and pencil.
     She started with the usual questions...where was he from; how did he get into music; did he have any musical influences other than Jimi Hendrix?  Kari glanced up from her notepad and suddenly became uneasy.  This was not her imagination; he was definitely staring at her face.   When he realized she had seen him he dropped his eyes.
     Joe hadn't meant to make her uncomfortable but he had to know if it really was her.  What were the odds?   That part of his life seemed so long ago and so far away.  But then again, hadn't he seen that picture and heard about the beautiful Kari at least a hundred times every day for months.  He knew it was her.
      "Please forgive me, Ms Snow.  I didn't mean to stare," he said with a heavy southern accent.   "Do you mind if I ask you a personal question?"  
     Taken aback she wasn't sure what to say.  Even though she was surprised by his request her journalistic curiosity kicked in and she had to know what was on his mind.  Nodding her head gently she gave him permission to proceed.
      "Do you know a man named Keith Farmer?"  he asked.  Her breath caught in her throat as tears welled up in her eyes.  Memories flooded her brain as if a dam had burst; memories she had pushed away for so long.  Who was this man and how did he know about her and Keith, she thought to herself.  Shakily she forced the words from her mouth, "How do you  know Keith?"
      Joe began to tell her his story.  On June 29, 1969, he had attended what turned out to be the last performance of Jimi Hendrix's band, the Jimi Hendrix Experience, before they broke up.  He had traveled to Denver, Colorado to attend the Barry Fey Denver Pop Festival 3 day event held at Denver's Mile High Stadium. 
      Joe's voice trailed away as Kari remembered that night vividly.  Keith was obsessed with Jimi Hendrix and he had persuaded her to go to Denver with him for the music festival.  Reluctantly, she had agreed.  The massive crowd pushed and shoved as if their desire to get closer to Jimi had taken over their existence.  Keith was pulling on her and pleading with her to come with him backstage.  He hadn't told her until that night but his plan had been for them to become roadies and follow Jimi on his tour.  He knew someone on the crew that had promised him jobs for both of them.  He wanted her to live with him on the road.  She couldn't believe what she was hearing.  They had always talked of going to New York after college, her to find a career in journalism and he to pursue his music.  Why was he talking crazy trying to throw away all their dreams?  "But Babe," he pleaded, "this is Jimi Hendrix!"  "No!" she had shouted over the loud music.  She had watched as he turned his back on her and disappeared in the crowd.  She had turned, fighting her way through the crowd as the pain and shock of what had just happened set in.  She had just reached the outside door when....
      "Chaos and panic broke out everywhere," Joe was saying.   "No one could believe that police had thrown tear gas into the crowd.  Mass hysteria caused screaming mobs to run in all directions.  I had been hanging around backstage hoping to get a job on the road crew.   Trying to escape the tear gas I ducked into the first open van outside the back door just before it took off.  Keith had run out behind me and jumped into the same van.  The van turned out to be part of the road crew and Keith and I both ended up with jobs.    Over the next 3 months Keith and I became friends and every day he would stare at that picture of you he carried in his wallet, showing it to me so many times that I felt like I knew you.  He would anguish over what a fool he had been for leaving you and that he would never be able to face you again.  You deserved better.   Finally, things around Jimi became so volatile, what with the drugs and alcohol and band members coming and going; things constantly changing, that Keith and I both decided to take off.  I left to pursue my own music and I never knew what happened to Keith.  I haven't seen or heard from him since."
      Kari sat there dumbfounded.  Could this really be happening?  She had come here today to find an interesting story behind this musician who's music was obviously so much like the guitar legend that had been larger than life.  She had hoped to find the story that would give her her big break - and she had gotten it.  Not only had Joe been influenced by Jimi, but had actually worked on his road crew.  He had traveled and partied with the man himself.  Everything a journalist could want.  But could she write the story? 
     She was more than a little shaken by this connection to Keith.  She had tried for 6 years to block the pain that had consumed her for what seemed like an eternity.  She still had a hard time trusting men and never let anyone get too close.  Now because of a chance meeting all the pain had come rushing back.  Could she get past it and write the story that she knew might change her career forever?













     

The Dilemma

     Just as the antique wall clock struck 7:00 a.m. Kari sat down in her creaky desk chair.  She didn't have to be there before eight but she loved to arrive early while the office was still quiet.  She would fill her huge mug that was shaped like a snowman with black coffee and sip it slowly as she collected her thoughts.   And today her thoughts were racing wildly.  What would she do?  What could she do?  How could she have fallen asleep before the guitar player even started his set?   And that dream...why had she dreamed of Keith.  She hadn't thought about him in years.  She hadn't wanted to ever think about him again after what he did to her.   It must have been because she had been thinking about Jimi Hendrix.  Keith had been obsessed with his music and they used to listen to it together on those moonlit nights by the lake.  She had been so young and naive then but now, 6 years later, she was much wiser and would never open herself up to that kind of pain ever again.

     She saw Devin watching her from his office.  Devin was her boss and she knew he would soon call her into his office to ask how the performance was.   Kari wanted to be taken seriously as a journalist and knew that her integrity and ethical beliefs were her first priority.  She knew what she had to do.   Before Devin had a chance to summon her she made her way through the myriad of desks and piles of papers, not even bothering to knock when she reached his open door.  Refusing his offer to sit, she poured out her story of what had happened the night before, omitting the part about the dream that still haunted her.   Devin listened intently.  It took all the composure he could muster to keep from laughing.  He knew he couldn't let her see his amusement.  He had been studying her face since she had arrived this morning and he knew that she was both exhausted and troubled.    He couldn't be too hard on her because the exhaustion was partly his fault.  He knew he had been sending her to too many late night concerts and performances.  He had been watching her since hiring her a year ago.  He knew she had the talent to go far in this business but he wasn't so sure that she had the edge.  News journalism was a tough business; cut-throat at times.  He just didn't think Kari could stand up to the big guns when things got rough.  But back to the situation at hand...

     Kari had finished her explanation and apologized profusely.  She stood with her head down for what now seemed like an eternity before Devin finally spoke.  "So, Kari, do you have a plan for an alternative column?  You know we can't have dead space in the newspaper." he said, trying not to be too stern.  And suddenly Kari's eyes started to twinkle.  This was her big break, the one she had been waiting for.  "What if instead of a review of his performance I turn it into a story about the man himself...how he got into the business - how he was influenced by Jimi Hendrix and so on.  I could schedule an interview with him this morning and get his real story.  I would still meet the midnight deadline."   How could he say no when she was so excited at the prospect of writing a real story instead of a review.  He gave her the go-ahead as she ran back to her desk to start making phone calls.  The interview was on.

The Review

Written for GBE2 week #37 prompt - Review



     "I just don't understand," she mumbled to herself as she drove across town yet another late night.  "I should be a star reporter by now but instead here I am hopping from nightclub to concert hall night after night, alone.  When will I get a break?"

     Kari had graduated college with honors and worked her way up through small town newspapers until finally she landed a job at the most prestigious newspaper in town.   Unfortunately, the only job opening was for a music review column; not exactly her dream job.  Thinking this would get her foot in the door she eagerly accepted, knowing that it would only be temporary until the editor saw her talent and promoted her to news reporter.   After all, she was a serious journalist.  Famous last words.  Here it was a year later and she was still writing music reviews for wannabes and has-been musicians.

     Arriving at the address she had scribbled on a post-it note she found a parking spot and entered the smoky nightclub.   Sliding into a booth in the back of the room she pulled out her notepad and laid it on the table with her pencil.  It was already past 11:00 and the opening act was still going.  She had to admit she was a little anxious to hear tonight's subject.  He was a guitar player...supposed to be the next Jimi Hendrix or so she had been told.  Finally, he was introduced by the club owner as Kari stifled a yawn.   He began with his own rendition of Jimi's Purple Haze.

     Suddenly the room was empty...or was it.  She could smell his Jade East Cologne before he came into sight.  She hadn't thought of him in years.  It was as if it were 1969 all over again.  He came closer and closer; her heart pounding wildly.  Their eyes met as he laid his hand on hers and...

      Kari jumped, startled, as the realization of what had just happened set in.  The waitress was gently shaking her arm with a worried expression on her face.  "Miss?  Are you alright miss?    I'm afraid it's closing time, do you need me to call you a cab?"

     Mumbling an apology of sorts and assuring the waitress she was fine Kari made a hasty exit to hide her embarrassment.  Sitting in her car she played over in her mind the possible scenarios that could play out tomorrow.  How could she write a review of the guitar player when she had slept through his whole performance! 

     Morning came way too soon and Kari still didn't know what would happen.  Could she write a review on a musician she never heard, or worse, would she be the one under review.

Until next time...that's my view.

Kat