A Knight Crime

Johnny Knight had a serious drug habit. A habit so bad it cost him his acting career. Twelve years after he starred in a successful television comedy, he presumably had his life turned around. The bad drugs took its toll on his health. The youthful features of his early acting career were replaced by more grown-up lines on his face, around his blue eyes and upon his brow. His once clean-shaven face now sported a trimmed beard, blondish, gray.

He took a new drug, prescribed by his doctor to counteract the addictive drugs he was entrapped by called buprenorphine. Whenever he had an urge, he took this. His doctor also prescribed ketamine. This evening these were in the back of his mind. He just finished talking to his friend who he costarred in that TV series that seemed a lifetime ago.

“How are you doing?” She asked with genuine concerned in her tone.

“Ninety days of being clean and sober,” Johnny announced with pride.

“You have to know how proud I am of you, Johhny!”

“Lilly, you know that that is one of the seven deadly sins, don’t you?”

“Oh, stop it. You used to be so amoral. Now look at you, talking about committing sin and all of that nonsense.”

Her New England dialect came out at that point, which made him laugh. “Yes, I have changed. Look, I will have to have lunch with you next week. I might be getting a role on a new TV series. Dan, my agent. I think you met him at one of those parties that eventually turned into a drug induced orgy. You remember him?”

“I can’t say as I have, but that is wonderful news. I’ll keep all my fingers and toes crossed for you.”

“You do that. Oh, look I got another call coming in. I’ll talk with you next week. Lunch at Cecconis?”

“You buying?” Lilian Campbell asked sharply.

“Well…McDonalds then?”

“Whatever! Go ahead and make reservations. Love you bye.”

She hung up on him before he could reply with one of his famous come backers, he used all the time on that series they starred in.

“Hello?” Johnny answered.

“It’s me. I need to see you.” His voice sounded familiar, but he had to ask anyway.

“Who is this?”

“Look, I need to talk to you. It’s a really big favor. I can meet you at your place say in about an hour?”

Johnny imagined him looking at his Rolex submariner. He wasn’t above the over dramatic himself as he whispered covertly, “Eight o’clock this evening at the hot tub. Bring your swimsuit.” He quickly disconnected the call. “What a hypocrite!”

Johnny made himself a nonalcoholic cocktail, relaxing at his jacuzzi. Malcolm his personal attendant came outside on the deck and announced, “You got a visitor, Johnny.” His demeanor appeared as straight as George Burns to Gracie or Dean Martin to Jerry Lewis. He rarely caught Malcom with a smile. At best he made a smirking grin that appeared full of irony. In walked a man dragged out to appear like Marilyn Monroe.

“Is it eight already?” Johnny asked as he dunked his head under the water for five seconds and popped his head back out. His face had flushed to a reddish color from the heat of the bubbling water.

“Actually, it’s closer to nine,” the visitor replied, pulling out a cigarette from a pack inside his clutch.

Johnny gave him a disapproving stare. “What’s with the get up?”

“I’m doing a play ‘Some Like It Hot.’

“Nice dress. You got white panties on too?”

“Maybe. Look, I need a super big favor from you.”

“Depends; you know I would do almost anything for you, so long as money isn’t involved.”

The Monroe look-a-like casted his eyes down. “There is a problem. I need ten thousand…”

Ten thousand what? Dollars? I told you no. I’m not a bank. Go sell your watch or whatever if you need money.”

“Johnny, please. There’re people, bad people that I owe and they’re willing to hurt me, if not kill me. I wouldn’t ask if it weren’t really important.”

“You are a lousy actor. No and that’s final. Malcom show him out the door!”

Tears began cascading down his face, besmirching the makeup and mascara, making him look clownish. Malcom politely, yet forcefully took his elbow and led him away. A moment later, Malcom appeared with that still sober expression. “Your friend is gone, Johnny.”

“Hey, take the rest of the night off. I’m going to go straight to bed here in a little bit anyway.”

“As you wish. Good evening, sir.”

Ten minutes later, he pulled himself from the hot tub and dried himself off. He heard something inside and stopped. “Malcom? Is that you?” He looked about curious to what made that sudden noise, like a slip on the floor. He approached the back deck entrance, not quite reaching the threshold. “Oh, what are you doing here?”

That was the last thing he remembered then the room, the deck and the dark night seemed to merged into a kaleidoscope of strange images, and finally a numbing blackness entered his consciousness. He vaguely heard the person, a man rambling and ranting at him in a crazy, delusional sort of way.

“You couldn’t just let it be, could you? No, you couldn’t help your old buddy out, no that was beneath you, wasn’t it?”

Johnny tried opening his eyes but all he saw was the white bathrobe lying next to the hot tub he had just emerged from. “I…what do you want?”

“You know what I want! Then you said, no!”  Johnny noticed him doing something by the outdoor bar. His back was to him. “That’s okay. You know what? We’re going to have ourselves a party, just like the old days when we had the world at our beck and call. You remember those days, don’t you Johnny? The parties, the drugs, the women. Lillian Campbell. Oh, I know those tabloid rumors were so true between you and her. She was supposed to belong to me!”

“I’m sorry,” he tried to spit out though his tongue and mouth felt as dry as dust and words came out in a nonsensical mumble or murmur. He wasn’t supposed to have known about that night of indiscretion. That night after the Emmies were handed out and their show was awarded best comedy of the season.

“It’s alright, Johnny. I forgave you years and years ago. After all we were the best of friends, then. I couldn’t blame you. Lillian was always so perfect, so pretty and so charming. After tonight she’ll come back to me, like she always has.”

“What are you, you going to do?”

He turned around. The blonde wig was gone, replaced by his thinning hair, darkened brown eyes and beginnings of a five o’clock shadow. He had in his hand a syringe with an amber looking liquid inside. His thumb pressed upon the plunger. He smiled at him. “Johnny, Johnny, Johnny, I only asked for that one favor and yet you said no. I didn’t want to hear that. I wanted yes. You are now mine to do as I please. The hot tub will add a flavor of intrigue too. Everyone will think you relapsed and got high, drowning in your vary hot tub.”

Johnny tried to used his diminished strength to fight him off. They struggled briefly but the syringe lodged into his thigh. The psychedelic effects took hold almost immediately. He felt as if floating on an ocean tide. The heated water added to the feelings. His left hand found something circler and springy that he grasped immediately. His mouth opened and his lungs filled with hot water. He slowly dissolved into the earth as his body relaxed and death emerged triumphant.