The lift pinged as it opened, and the tall handsome man stepped forward, alone for the first time in a couple of hours. He was a little tired, but that was normal. Work was satisfying and his fans were growing in number, so his hours were spent productively but it was nice to take a break before stepping back into character. He strode through the sliding metal doors and they closed behind him before he realized that he was, in fact, not alone.
She sized him up with great curiosity before her eyes brightened up with predatory interest.
“What floor?” She asked politely.
“Five please,” he relaxed as she pressed the button and as it lit up proceeded to act as if he weren’t there. Perhaps she hadn’t recognized him. He was disabused of this notion as the doors slid shut with a ding and she proceeded to press each and every button leading to the fifth floor before grinning maniacally.
“Want to practice?” She asked.
“Your pardon?” He replied, confused. Perhaps he should take the stairs, he thought worriedly, as the elevator slowly made its way to the second floor. As if guessing his thoughts he watched in horror as she ‘accidentally’ pressed the emergency stop button and it shuddered to a halt.
“Oh dear,” she said mildly, “I thought that was the button to contact building maintenance. I wonder how long we’ll be stuck.” He wondered the same, and hoped fervently he would be able to fend her off in the meantime. His fans were usually so normal. Devoted, yes, but he was starting to become very concerned about his welfare, trapped as he was in this lift from hell.
“So…did you want to practice?” He eyed her with disdain, and she sighed in appreciation.
“Practice what?” He said this coolly, and she sighed again, her eyes growing soft and dazed.
“I’m a huge fan, and I’ve heard you’re a method actor. I never imagined that I would meet you like this, but I would do anything to assist you in furthering your career.” She swallowed hard and looked nervous for the first time. “I know you’ve taken a…rather gruesome role, but I’m willing to sacrifice if it will help you embody this new character.”
“Sacrifice?” His voice pitched a little higher which was quite the accomplishment and the faint bells of alarm had turned into a roaring claxon of anxiety.
She reached into her purse, and retrieved a small jar of strawberry preserves and proceeded to open it and dip her pinky inside the rim. She scooped up a generous portion of the gelatinous red concoction and extended it to him expectantly. “It’s alright if it’s you. I’m sure I can get along without it. The jam should help it go down easier don’t you think?” He looked at her in askance, slowly dawning horror building inside of him as he realized what she was offering. Resolve firming he looked for the emergency exit. No help for it then.
Thirty minutes later he stumbled into the set where he was greeted with disbelief and shock by his friends and co-workers. His hair mussed, skin streaked with dirt and grease, and clothes torn, his eyes had a haunted and desperate look they’d never seen. Before anyone could ask, he rasped out a demand. “Let’s never speak of this again. I can only express my gratitude for those who taught me how to escape from a lift.” He staggered off, failing to notice one of his closest friends on set having a conversation on speaker so he could be heard over the din in the room.
“You’re sure he won’t be angry?” The voice came through with hesitation. “I never expected him to do that.”
“No, no. You were perfect,” he soothed her anxiety. “I promise I’ll explain everything to him later.” He couldn’t prevent his ecstatic grin from widening.
“I would hate for him to be upset. You’re absolutely sure he asked for one of us to do this?”
“He likes that sort of thing, I promise. Helps him get into character. He doesn’t like for us to give him any warning. Thinks it hones his craft and such.”
“And I can keep the picture?” The voice betrayed a hint of girlish excitement as she asked hopefully.
“Of course. Consider it payment for services rendered. Share it with as many of your friends as you like.” A throat cleared and seeing the storm cloud forming behind him, he hastily ended the call to face the music.
“You maniacal bastard…you set me up!”
“I’m going to kill you!”
“That’s the spirit! Everyone on set! Let’s get that scene down so we can all go home.”
The room filled with laughter.
“I knew my fans would never do something like that to me.”
(Soo…I have a little confession. I was actually not a Richard Armitage fan when I wrote the first Richard post. I didn’t really know who he was. It was written based on a friend’s obsession and not my own. I believe our conversation went something like this: ‘Have you seen North & South?’ and me answering ‘You mean that mini series about the Civil War with Patrick Swayze?’ and ‘He’s the dwarf from the Hobbit movies?.’ (Please don’t hurt me!)
I was quickly educated, and the first post was inspired by my friend who believes and I quote ‘the man is smokin’ hot’. I never expected it to get as many views as it did and I felt horribly guilty. Probably why I had that dream…you know, as punishment for perpetuating a great fraud. The Richard Armitage fan community was so nice, though, and the first one seemed to need an ending so I got inspired and I wrote another one. Still the guilt wouldn’t leave me alone so I wanted to write one final piece as a kind of confessional thank you and I included embedded links as a sort of apology for using him so shamelessly. (Sorry Richard Armitage)
I’m not completely reformed, though, since it was incredibly fun to write the posts. This is obviously fiction, and probably not very good because I don’t actually know him or any of the extra (fictional) characters I threw in, and I can’t promise to write any more, but I hope you like it. He’s an excellent actor and I ended up being won over in the end so I guess the joke’s on me. Karma I suppose. Serves me write haha.)