It’s been a while since I had the time / inclination to write any flash, but last weekend I saw an AI image on Deviant which inspired me. I’ll include it at the end.

This is around 950 words. A six or seven minute read.

Have you checked out AI art? It’s great fun and I’ve enjoyed dabbling myself.

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“Did you enjoy your stay, Mr Thornton, sir? Did you sleep well?”

“It was fine thanks.” The man stood in the immaculate grey suit, bought just last fall after he’d surprised his new wife with a shopping trip up to New York. He was  resplendent in his crisp white shirt, and glanced down at an elegant Citizen wrist watch, another symbol of his recent success. “But I have a lunch meeting over in Evergreen at 1, I’d better get a move on.”

Proud of his own efficiency, the young clerk responded with a grin across his pimpled face. “I’m just getting the bill now, sir. There we go.” Pulling his burgundy uniform straight, he presented a slip of paper.

With practised fluency, Thornton withdrew a sleek brown wallet from inside the jacket, and from its patent leather shield, selected a gold-coloured card.

“Thank you, sir. Just one more minute.” The words hung in the air until the machine began printing its receipt. Smoothly tearing it, the smiling youth offered a final gesture. “Thank you, sir, and we hope to see you again soon.”

“I hope so too. But now… I’ll be late for my meeting.” Thornton turned, and left with such purpose, he did not even notice the face glued to the lobby’s plate glass window.

*

“Come on, Billy, I wanna get my lunch.” Tuesday was linguine day at Alfredo’s, and Richy had been working hard all morning. He turned to his waif-like apprentice, but the boy was dawdling again, this time his face pressed against the side window of the Grand Hotel. “COME ON! I’m starved. I’m a growing man and I need my nourishment.” He patted his emerging paunch under paint-splattered dungarees. “And you need a job!”

The boy tore his nose from the pane, and using one hand to steady the knitted green beanie which was already his trademark, he was beside his boss.

“Did you see who that was?”

“Where?” Richy wanted lunch.

“Back there, at the hotel.” With a triumphant grin, Billy gripped each lapel with his fists. “That there was none other than Paul Farrell.”

Paul Farrell. They’d all seen him at the movie theatre. The Incredible Hunk. Especially since last year, when his new flick had played the entire month of August. Richy had grown sick of that same old earnest face on the billboard.

“Paul Farrell – the movie star? You’re full of it, Billy. No way would a bigshot Hollywood actor be seen dead in a shithole like Knoxville, Kentucky. Now take your head out of your ass and let’s eat. I want to get this Dickens job finished today so I expect you to earn your crust this afternoon.”

The pair were still bickering in the diner.

“It was him, I tell you. Sure, I only saw him a minute, but it was him all right!”

“Who’d ya see?” An ageing blonde waitress had appeared at their table, her teeth stained with carelessly-applied cherry lipstick.

Richy interjected. “Oh, hi Sylvie. Young Billy here reckons he just saw Paul Farrell over at the hotel on Main Street.” Then, surprised at his own humour, he added with a chuckle, “hey, maybe he heard about your specials?”

Amid Billy’s protests, “It was him, I tell ya”, the woman remained expressionless, slouching, bored in her grubby red gingham apron. “What’ll ya have today?” Even her slow drawl was listless.

As she marched through the white door into the kitchen, she almost knocked the restaurant’s newest employee, the sweet, dippy young Candy, flying.

“Hey, watch it, honey. That’s not a good place to be standing.” The girl jumped, her long blonde curls falling absent-mindedly from her hand.

Placing the order on the peg, Sylvie studied this airhead properly. Staring into her compact again. For fuck’s sake. Who did she think she was kidding?

“Attagirl. Make sure you fix that make up real good. I just heard there’s a movie star in town.” Anybody, apart from Candy, would have heard the sarcasm in Sylvie’s voice.

“Who?” Candy was immediately attentive.

“Richy Wallis’s young sidekick. Reckons he just saw him over at the hotel.” She gestured in the general direction.

“No. Who’d he just see?”

“Paul Farrell. Ya know him?” Of course she knew him. Who could not know him? Her eyes lit up. Sylvie couldn’t resist adding, “You’d better get yourself out there. Maybe he’ll be in for lunch? Maybe he’s shootin’ hereabouts? Guy’s gotta eat. Fix your face, toots, he might need some extras.” Her face became serious. “But get a move on, missy, there’s customers waitin’ to be served.” To reinforce the point, she thrust Candy’s pad into her hand.

Emerging hastily from the kitchen, Candy scanned the restaurant. No movie stars. Not yet, anyways. She did, however, hear the brusque voice of Alfredo. “Table Four needs service”, he nodded. Fearful of her new boss, she jumped at the instruction.

Finally returning to the kitchen, Candy made her excuses to the busy chef. “Cover for me, Riko, I gotta make a quick phone call.”

Riko simply rolled his eyes.

With practised fingers, Candy deftly punched the number she knew all too well. “Shelley? It’s me. Look, I gotta be quick. If Alfredo sees me he’ll blow a gasket! Paul Fleming is in town. Over at the hotel on Main Street. He’s makin’ a blockbuster and they’re looking for extras. I’m gonna get over there soon as I can get away from this dump. You might wanna do the same.” The parting shot. “And don’t go blabbing this to anyone.”

Unfortunately, Candy’s last sentence was unnecessary, for the talkative Shelley was planning her next call before Candy had even finished speaking.

Feigning headache, Candy tore herrself away from the diner thirty minutes early, and headed straight for the Grand.