The News- Short Story

The News

24- February 2005

PROMPT: (from VUUDUUGRRL)
You're sitting in a cafe waiting for a friend to turn up. When the friend walks in, they are beaming with delight. Something amazing has just happened to them. Before they order their beverage, they whisper to you, "Do you want all the details? Or just the quick & dirty stuff?"

"Do you want all the details, or just the quick and dirty stuff?" Rachel whispers across the table.

"How dirty?" I ask, knowing from her smile what the answer would be.

"Well...I don't want to spoil it if you want the details," she says. "Decide quick, cause I'm going to burst if it don't tell someone soon. You have until my drink comes." Suddenly she's flagging down the waiter and ordering a white hot chocolate.

"Does it involve Bradley?" I ask, with a sense of dread.

"Maybe." I can't tell from her tone if it is a "yes" maybe or a "no" maybe. Dammit, Rachel has always been too good at keeping secrets until she decides to drop a bombshell in your lap.

I'm not sure I could handle a bomb today.

She watches me from across the table, her eyes shifting focus away from me and back again. She looks like she's having trouble sitting still. So, it's really big news, then.

The waiter arrives, and places a foamy mug in front of Rachel. She doesn't even reach for it, but as the waiter walks away, she leans forward.

"Well…?"

I sigh. "The quick and dirty, I guess. You'll probably end up telling me all the details later anyway. Again and again."

Rachel pouts, but only for a moment. Her excitement won't let her even feign indignation for very long.

"We don't have to worry about money anymore" she says, with a smug smile, finally picking up her mug. "Ever." She takes a sip.

"What do you mean?"

"I mean you don't have to work, I don't have to work, we can waste our lives writing screenplays that never get produced, or dating exotic guys, or going on world cruises."

"Rachael, are you sure you don't have a fever? You know I barely afford rent last month, and that's on two jobs."

"No problem anymore. In fact, we should get a penthouse over looking the river. Or a beach house. Or both."

"I don't understand."

Rachel laughs. "Of course not. You didn't want the details, you silly git."

"Then tell me." Her excitement is contagious, even though I know this is most likely a prank. Rachel loves good jokes, and through my relationship with her, I've learned to be a lot less gullible.

"Okay, so you know how I was volunteering with the outpatient group."

"In your abundant free time." She ignores my sarcasm.

"And you remember I told you about the sweet old woman, Mrs. Wexler. I felt really bad for her being all alone, and took her cookies and stuff. Remember I was all broken up she died?"

"Rachael!" I cry, amaze at the complete irreverence in her tone.

"Her lawyers just contacted me. Apparently she didn't have any children and she left me her entire estate. And she was always talking about all her old, dead husbands- three of them- apparently they were all millionaires, and she had inherited it all when she was widowed."

"What are you saying?" I hope that my voice will bring her back to reality.

"There's a trust fund set up for me, 25 million dollars. And since I had mentioned you, like almost every time I was there – she loved to hear about my dreams to be a screen writer – she set up the stipulation I can only get the money if you and I both quit our jobs and try to write the movies we've always been talking about."

"I...What?"

"So I already called your bosses, both of them, and put in two weeks notice for you. We really should dedicate our first film to her, don't you think?" Rachael looks at me expectantly.

For the first time in my relationship with Rachael, I don't know what to say.