by A.E. Moseley
tell you! And they kicked me out. They kicked me out of a theater that I have enough money to buy, all because of the fact that I assaulted one of the stagehands. Well, let me tell you,” he said straightening himself, “I don’t appreciate being taken advantage of. It’s not fair that the theater takes my money, which I have graciously given, and then keep me out of it.”
That’s when Jason recognized him. It was Mr. Lancet, a long time theater patron. He had brutally assaulted a young stagehand because he had accidently bumped into him. The police didn’t believe the claims that the theater made, after all Mr. Lancet was a very fine patron of the arts, and so the manager took matters into his own hands and barred Mr. Lancet from the theater.
“You, you murdered Cassandra, all for revenge?” he could barely get the words out. He felt his nails dig into his flesh, his hands balled into fists. “You killed Cassandra, all because of your selfishness?”
“No, I wouldn’t say that, I would say it was because of the theater’s selfishness.”
“I saw the boy you tried to kill! I saw you killing Cassandra just now, do you really think you’ll get away with this?”
“Oh absolutely, after all, I am the one with all of the money. You’re just a mere stagehand. At first I was surprised that you were here, and disappointed too. But now I realize that it’s a very good thing you’re here.”
“What are you talking about?” Jason glanced at Cassandra’s body, and tried to gage the distance between them. If he could get past Mr. Lancet…but then what? She was dead. It wouldn’t matter.
The man sauntered forward. “I’m going to frame you. You were so torn by her rejection that you killed her and shocked by what you had done you killed yourself in turn. Of course I’ll be the one to have found the scene and apologize profusely for such a terrible accident. Of course I have money and I’ll be able to find the best talent to replace her. Poor thing, hardly knew what was coming.”
“You can’t-”
“Can’t I?” Mr. Lancet took another step, drawing a pistol.
The gunshot echoed through the theater.
But it wasn’t Jason who fell dead; it was Mr. Lancet. The stagehand spun around and smiled with relief. “Anthony!”
“And you always wondered why I carried a gun around. Well, at least he’s dead now.”
“Yes, but what about you? You were the one who killed him.”
Anthony shrugged. “Self defense, and besides, there’s three of us as eye witnesses, they’ll take us seriously. I’ve also heard some rumors going around about him, Lancet. Apparently he has a nasty temper and will beat anyone once he looses it. Last night it was a fellow poker player.”
“Cassandra’s dead, Anthony.” The other said dully.
“Really? Looks like she’s moving to me.”
Cassandra was trying to sit up, her blonde hair messy from the struggle.
“Cassandra!” Jason was at her side helping her. “Cassandra, I thought, I thought you were gone.”
She tried to laugh, “No, not quite. Apparently he didn’t choke me long or hard enough. Ohhh…”
“Be still, I’ll take care of you, just be still.” He said softly, stroking her hair.
At half past three in the afternoon, a week later, the couple was on their way to the country. Cassandra had been deeply affected by the attack, and the doctor said that the best medicine was a trip to the countryside.
As the couple boarded the train Anthony called out holding a fresh bouquet of roses. “I’m not sure, but you might need these more than me.”
He took the roses from his friend, “Right, thanks.”
“Have a good trip, and don’t, well you know, don’t do anything silly.”
The man rolled his eyes. “The only silly one around here is you.”
On the train Jason watched Cassandra sleep peacefully, her head resting against the car window. He was thankful that things had calmed down; the trip would be very welcome for both of them. He laughed thinking back on one of the corny jokes Anthony had made about the fiasco. “Leave it to him to make something like that a laughing matter.”
Cassandra opened her eyes at the sound of his voice. “How much longer?”
“Hm, oh, another half hour or so they said. I think there’s another stop before ours but I could be wrong about that.”
Cassandra giggled. “Well you’d better be sure you know what stop we’re getting off at! I’d hate to land at the wrong place.”
“Don’t worry, we’ll get off at the right stop.” He noticed where she was looking at the bouquet of roses. He had never had the chance to give them to her.
“Ah, right.” Jason stood up, straightened his shirt and cuffs, ran a hand through his hair and wiped his face with a handkerchief. He took the roses and situated himself on one knee as best he could in the cramp compartment.
“Miss Swan, will you do me the honor of being my wife?”
Cassandra was sitting upright now, fully awake. She reddened slightly, and straightened out her skits.
“I, I already talked to your father and he gave me permission to ask, but I-” he was about to stand up, when her slender hands forced him back down.
“Just because I don’t answer right away doesn’t mean that I won’t say yes!” her eyes were bright and filled with compassion. “I was just trying to find the right way to say yes, that’s all.”
Their lips touched, and Cassandra gently pulled Jason’s face closer to hers. Half an hour later when the conductor came to announce that the couple would be exiting the train at the next stop, they were sitting beside each other, looking at the roses. They were so involved in their conversation about starting a rose garden that the conductor smiled and decided that the announcement could wait a while, it was best to just let them be and enjoy being together.
