Cat And Mouse, chapter 2
"Good evening. This is Bunny Havishaw with breaking news. Another murder has occurred, making a total of twelve since two weeks ago, when a man in Berkley was killed and his house burned down. There have been no arrests made yet, but police forces from as far away as Los Angeles are working on the case, labeled the "Crash and Burn Murders. If you have any information about these murders, please, please call in. Operators are standing by." Her voice quivered with anticipation as she spoke. The teleprompter scrolled at a slow enough pace for her to add emotion to each word. And she did. Every syllable echoed with a type of fear and anxiety worthy of cinema. But Bunny Havishaw didn't care. She had a plane ticket to New York and in two hours would be on her way to a new job, this one a lot bigger than the local news in Berkley.
She caressed the side of her nose, making sure not to smudge her makeup. But she'd be back from the commercial break soon and needed her eyes to be red enough to make people think tears. She ruffled her hair a little and took one more poke at her eyes. "All for the cameras," she thought to herself as the production director signaled a return.
After the 11 o'clock news had ended, Bunny walked down the corridor to her dressing room, striding confidently. The occasional intern and lighting technician waved to her, some giving the thumbs up. A few brave ones built up the courage to approach her and pat her on the back.
"Wonderful job, Bun!" Cathy, a fill-in weather woman, said with a firm handshake. "You had me in tears! Honest to God!"
Bunny just smiled and lightly pulled at her hand to regain its freedom. What she'd really like to do with that hand once she did get it free... "Keep it together," she assured herself firmly. Then she paused and erased the previous thought. "Did she really just call me Bun?"
"Well, I've got a plane to catch. I do hope we keep in touch." Bunny made sure to smile as fake as humanly possible. Cathy, though, didn't seem to take notice.
"Yeah, good luck out there. Ms. Big Time!" she giggled to herself and fake-punched Bunny on the shoulder. "Just don't get too big for Studio 4!"
"This woman needs to be shot!" she screamed in her mind. But outside, she laughed and lifted her cheeks a little, making her seem sarcastically smug. But there was nothing sarcastic about it. Looking for a feasible exit, she glanced down at her watch.
"Guess I'll see you around." She gave a quick wave before turning around. "Please just let me go. For all that is holy, let me go."
But apparently there isn't a lot holy, because Cathy rolled her eyes and flipped Bunny back around. "Now where the hell do you think you're going? Come here and give me a hug!"
Bunny was pulled into the inevitable. It hurt her. Physically, she was not made for affection. She had a petit form; small, sleek shoulders and a stomach, lean from many surgeries. She had a blond hair that could only be manufactured with women's product. It fell to her shoulders usually, but tonight it was pulled into a tight bun. She wore a pink dress-suit with nylon stockings and high pumps. In other words, Bunny Havishaw was a paper doll. And paper dolls are not meant to be held tightly, which is exactly what Cathy was doing.
After that debacle, Bunny made sure to avoid contact with any needy looking, forty-something fill-ins. When she got to her room, she sighed with relief. This was her sanctuary, or was. Pretty soon she'd have some swank, upscale dressing room in New York. She opened the door and practically fell into the room, hoping to stumble onto the sofa and catch five minutes of sleep before she started packing up.
But fate wasn't exactly fond of Bunny Havishaw, but before you start feeling pity for her, Bunny didn't love fate either. To say who started first would be impossible. The entire Studio 4 was in her dressing room, confetti and bad sandwich platters covered one end of the room. On the other were the people. Bunny almost vomited on all of them.
"Oh....my god! You people are too kind, just too, absolutely," she paused, drawing another breath, "kind." She said the last word like she had just seen an old friend she never suspected would've betrayed her. How Bunny knew to speak like this though, is beyond anyone's imagination as Bunny did not have any friends, and if she did, none of them would have the balls to betray her.
"Bunny," a tall man, Gordon, said as he approached her, arms spread open. "As station manager, I want to thank you for the years of service you've given us. You were really... a major part of Studio 4's family here." Every clapped and nodded in approval. They all thought Bunny really liked them.
She was flushed. Not with modesty and embarrassment, like everyone thought, but with anger. "If you will excuse me, I have to use the bathroom. I'll be right back though."
Immediately as she walked into the tiny bathroom adjacent to her dressing room, she punched the wall. She punched it hard enough to break a whole through it, which it did. But there was enough adrenaline to soften the impact and her hand remained unscathed, save a scratch. She heard a silence from outside and poked her head out from the door. "Just dropped something, don't worry, I'm alright." Everyone resumed a regular party atmosphere, drinking more punch and chatting it up. Bunny realized they would be here forever. So she went back to the bathroom and grabbed a handful of sleeping pills. She crushed them into a powder and pushed the powder into a plastic cup. Then, while everyone was talking to someone else, she went over the punch bowl, poured herself a glass and then slipped the powder into the larger bowl.
"Everyone!" she shouted, raising her voice to a pitch that got the attention of the room. "I do have a plane to catch, so—"
Gordon clapped his hands together. "Say no more, Bunny. We were all going to leave and let you pack. We know you have a plane to catch."
Bunny paused, thinking for a moment. Then, she came to a decision. "Yes, but before you all go. Let's have one last drink... together." She turned on the charm for that last word, raising her untainted glass and then nudging towards the bowl. Everyone poured themselves a glass and then hurriedly dropped to the floor. Bunny weaved her way through her unconscious, ex-coworkers and found her suitcase, throwing in extra items and things she thought she needed. Which was everything? She smiled to herself as she left the room and walked out to her car.
Back at her apartment, her rather empty apartment, there were suitcases and bags lying near the door. One of the few pieces of equipment still left was blinking. It was the answering machine. She slung the bags she could over her shoulder and nudged the button with her elbow. The message played over the room as she walked around, making sure she didn't forget anything important. Which was anything.
"Err, hello. This is Stan Rowdels, from Channel 19 News, in New York. I just wanted to say, amazing coverage of the Crash and Burn murders. I mean wow. We cannot wait to have you on board next week. Well that's all, really." Click. She rolled her eyes. What a waste of tape. "Speaking of which," she muttered to herself. She unplugged the machine and tossed it in the trash. "Present for the new family." The door slammed and Bunny was on her way to the airport.
She caressed the side of her nose, making sure not to smudge her makeup. But she'd be back from the commercial break soon and needed her eyes to be red enough to make people think tears. She ruffled her hair a little and took one more poke at her eyes. "All for the cameras," she thought to herself as the production director signaled a return.
After the 11 o'clock news had ended, Bunny walked down the corridor to her dressing room, striding confidently. The occasional intern and lighting technician waved to her, some giving the thumbs up. A few brave ones built up the courage to approach her and pat her on the back.
"Wonderful job, Bun!" Cathy, a fill-in weather woman, said with a firm handshake. "You had me in tears! Honest to God!"
Bunny just smiled and lightly pulled at her hand to regain its freedom. What she'd really like to do with that hand once she did get it free... "Keep it together," she assured herself firmly. Then she paused and erased the previous thought. "Did she really just call me Bun?"
"Well, I've got a plane to catch. I do hope we keep in touch." Bunny made sure to smile as fake as humanly possible. Cathy, though, didn't seem to take notice.
"Yeah, good luck out there. Ms. Big Time!" she giggled to herself and fake-punched Bunny on the shoulder. "Just don't get too big for Studio 4!"
"This woman needs to be shot!" she screamed in her mind. But outside, she laughed and lifted her cheeks a little, making her seem sarcastically smug. But there was nothing sarcastic about it. Looking for a feasible exit, she glanced down at her watch.
"Guess I'll see you around." She gave a quick wave before turning around. "Please just let me go. For all that is holy, let me go."
But apparently there isn't a lot holy, because Cathy rolled her eyes and flipped Bunny back around. "Now where the hell do you think you're going? Come here and give me a hug!"
Bunny was pulled into the inevitable. It hurt her. Physically, she was not made for affection. She had a petit form; small, sleek shoulders and a stomach, lean from many surgeries. She had a blond hair that could only be manufactured with women's product. It fell to her shoulders usually, but tonight it was pulled into a tight bun. She wore a pink dress-suit with nylon stockings and high pumps. In other words, Bunny Havishaw was a paper doll. And paper dolls are not meant to be held tightly, which is exactly what Cathy was doing.
After that debacle, Bunny made sure to avoid contact with any needy looking, forty-something fill-ins. When she got to her room, she sighed with relief. This was her sanctuary, or was. Pretty soon she'd have some swank, upscale dressing room in New York. She opened the door and practically fell into the room, hoping to stumble onto the sofa and catch five minutes of sleep before she started packing up.
But fate wasn't exactly fond of Bunny Havishaw, but before you start feeling pity for her, Bunny didn't love fate either. To say who started first would be impossible. The entire Studio 4 was in her dressing room, confetti and bad sandwich platters covered one end of the room. On the other were the people. Bunny almost vomited on all of them.
"Oh....my god! You people are too kind, just too, absolutely," she paused, drawing another breath, "kind." She said the last word like she had just seen an old friend she never suspected would've betrayed her. How Bunny knew to speak like this though, is beyond anyone's imagination as Bunny did not have any friends, and if she did, none of them would have the balls to betray her.
"Bunny," a tall man, Gordon, said as he approached her, arms spread open. "As station manager, I want to thank you for the years of service you've given us. You were really... a major part of Studio 4's family here." Every clapped and nodded in approval. They all thought Bunny really liked them.
She was flushed. Not with modesty and embarrassment, like everyone thought, but with anger. "If you will excuse me, I have to use the bathroom. I'll be right back though."
Immediately as she walked into the tiny bathroom adjacent to her dressing room, she punched the wall. She punched it hard enough to break a whole through it, which it did. But there was enough adrenaline to soften the impact and her hand remained unscathed, save a scratch. She heard a silence from outside and poked her head out from the door. "Just dropped something, don't worry, I'm alright." Everyone resumed a regular party atmosphere, drinking more punch and chatting it up. Bunny realized they would be here forever. So she went back to the bathroom and grabbed a handful of sleeping pills. She crushed them into a powder and pushed the powder into a plastic cup. Then, while everyone was talking to someone else, she went over the punch bowl, poured herself a glass and then slipped the powder into the larger bowl.
"Everyone!" she shouted, raising her voice to a pitch that got the attention of the room. "I do have a plane to catch, so—"
Gordon clapped his hands together. "Say no more, Bunny. We were all going to leave and let you pack. We know you have a plane to catch."
Bunny paused, thinking for a moment. Then, she came to a decision. "Yes, but before you all go. Let's have one last drink... together." She turned on the charm for that last word, raising her untainted glass and then nudging towards the bowl. Everyone poured themselves a glass and then hurriedly dropped to the floor. Bunny weaved her way through her unconscious, ex-coworkers and found her suitcase, throwing in extra items and things she thought she needed. Which was everything? She smiled to herself as she left the room and walked out to her car.
Back at her apartment, her rather empty apartment, there were suitcases and bags lying near the door. One of the few pieces of equipment still left was blinking. It was the answering machine. She slung the bags she could over her shoulder and nudged the button with her elbow. The message played over the room as she walked around, making sure she didn't forget anything important. Which was anything.
"Err, hello. This is Stan Rowdels, from Channel 19 News, in New York. I just wanted to say, amazing coverage of the Crash and Burn murders. I mean wow. We cannot wait to have you on board next week. Well that's all, really." Click. She rolled her eyes. What a waste of tape. "Speaking of which," she muttered to herself. She unplugged the machine and tossed it in the trash. "Present for the new family." The door slammed and Bunny was on her way to the airport.
