Breathless
Episode 1: Breathless
I glanced into my review and watched as the taxi arrived right on time, parking precisely a block away as the driver had been instructed.
A brunette dressed in a tailored baby blue skirt exited the passenger’s seat. She paused to check her reflection in the car’s window. Then, she patted her dark hair into place and slipped on a pair of oversized sunglasses before reaching her white gloved hand into her purse to pay the driver, ensuring that she tipped him well enough so that he would remember her.
Though donning the large sunglasses gave the impression that she was trying to be incognito, she knew that they would have the opposite effect, and even the people who didn’t immediately recognize her couldn’t help pausing and take a second glance at the mysterious lady with the sultry swagger.
Those who realized that she was the actress Pollyanna Rose paused and lingered so they could gawk at her a little longer and take note of where she was going so they could relay the information to the paparazzi who lingered on every street corner waiting to get the scoop on Hollywood’s new talkie stars.
I relaxed, knowing I had plenty of time to approach her. I had revisited this time line on several occasions, each one played out slightly differently, only two details remained consistent: I loved Pollyanna each time, and though I did my best, I failed to save her.
Though I had not entered this timeline feeling any more confident, I couldn’t pass up the opportunity to see her again. Regardless of my best efforts in the past, each timeline managed to heed the same results and when I arrived, I braced myself for the heartbreak I would later endure, but this time I was tentatively optimistic.
In every timeline, the Magical Council had been warned about Victor Humphrey, a sad warlock who manipulated time to prevent progress because he feared technology would kill the arts (eventually, he would be proven correct, but time tampering was a dangerous game and strictly forbidden). The councils of the past overlooked Victor’s case, but in this timeline, there had been a shift in the magical community, so his crimes were investigated, and he was sent to Brimstone to burn for his crimes.
This time, there was no Victor, no playhouse, and no investigation would ensue that would cause Pollyanna and me to team up, so this time, it was up to me to place myself in Pollyanna’s path.
I watched Pollyanna through the restaurant window. Her agent had just dropped her for failing to transition to talking films. In the past timelines, she wasn’t bothered because her coven had called on her to investigate Profit’s Playhouse, the theater that Victor Humphrey had been using as a mechanism to undo progress, but this time, no call had come, and Pollyanna was unemployed.
I exited my car as she departed from the restaurant. In the past, she had paused to address the reporters she had alerted and bid farewell to Hollywood, but this time, no paparazzi lay in wait. She had instructed the car she had arrived in to circle the block; now she walked slowly, waiting for her ride to notice her.
Though her appearance had not changed since she arrived, her defeat had transformed her, and no one noticed her as she passed, not even the driver she had paid to circle the block.
“Hey!” she cried out, waving as she recognized the car, but the driver didn’t seem to hear her as he drove past, craning his neck as he paused to glance at the empty sidewalk in front of the restaurant.
“Damn it,” Pollyanna cursed as she attempted to chase after the car, but hindered by her tight pencil skirt in pumps, she made little progress before the taxi rounded the corner.
I seized the opportunity to approach, “Ms. Rose?” I called out.
She swung around, her expression shifting from annoyance to effortless glamor as she turned. Expecting a reporter, she flashed a dazzling smile which immediately began to sag when she noticed that I had no pen in my hand and no cameraman ready to snap her picture.
Though I had worn rose-tinted sunglasses to hide the flames behind my eyes, there wasn’t enough cologne in the world that could prevent a witch from smelling the brimstone that emanated from me. She pressed her lips together and regarded me with disdain.
Though any other man would have collapsed under her gaze, it was the same look she always gave me when she first met me. “You hate me now, baby, but soon you’re going love me,” I thought to myself as I offered her my hand, she glanced down at my palm in disgust before she gazed at the sky, “The sun is still up,” she remarked, “Isn’t it a bit early for demons to crawl out of the pit?”
“I’m a time demon, so I have special privileges above,” I lied. In the past, this was true, but since I was not called on this mission, I had taken advantage of a loophole. Things were hectic in Brimstone; my father, Hades, was retiring and passing the torch to his half-human son, Blaze.
Though Blaze was capable of running Brimstone, change wasn’t something that was well-received below, and the demons were discombobulated. With everyone distracted, I had managed to slip above.
Pollyanna’s arms crossed protectively. Confident that I had come to cite her for misusing magic, she said, “Buzz off, demon, you have the wrong witch.”
I wanted to reassure her, to confess that we have met on hundreds of occasions. That each time I had anxiously waited millions of years for the timeline to reset itself so I could return to her, and on every occasion, without fail, she loved me.
Of course, I couldn’t tell her the truth; it would fall under the guidelines of time manipulation, and more importantly, my admission could alter her feelings for me. Losing her in the physical sense was devastating; the only thing that had sustained me while I was waiting was knowing that I had her heart. So instead, I took a different approach. I removed my rose-colored glasses and raised my brow, “So, you didn’t use an herbal sleep tea to sabotage your competition during your last audition?” I posed.
Pollyanna gasped and, reactively, reached for the lapel of my jacket. “You can’t walk around making those kinds of accusations,” she hissed. “This town has eyes and ears everywhere.”
“Why don’t we go somewhere more private?” I suggested gesturing at my car, which was still running across the street.
“You can’t be serious,” she sputtered, “You hauled your cookies all the way from Brimstone over some herbal tea magic?”
“You misunderstand,” I said, reaching for the script that I had tucked under my arm and presenting it to her, “I’m not here to punish you, but to offer you the acting gig of a lifetime.”
