The Red Devil Page #2

• Fiction
• Fantasy

								

	The prominent producer took a chance on this unknown long shot known as the Red Devil and risked his own career to put Reggie on to the industry of show business. He flew Reggie out to Los Angeles the next week and took him up under his wing, schooling him to the rap game. He worked closely with Red one on one over the course of the following year and managed to cultivate him into a serious, major artist. To everyone's surprise, especially his own, Reggie blew up. He suddenly turned into what seemed like an over night success story. He was the next big thing and he reached a level of popularity that he never could have imagined, even in his wildest fantasies. He was a top seller, breaking records all along the way. It was like he came out of the blue, a left field appearance, almost like magic.  
	And, oh yes, there had been money. A lot of money. More money than he had ever imagined. And, oh yes, there had been cars. Fast cars. Expensive cars. Convertibles and limited release editions. And, of course, there most certainly had been women. Beautiful women. Exotic women. Many, many women. Women of all nationalities from every corner of the globe. Red was living his fantasy; the high life that he had always tasted brief samples of in his favorite, most vivid and beautiful dreams. Unfortunately, he knew in the back of his mind that everything must come to an end. Good things couldn't last forever and he knew that he was going to eventually have to pay his commupence and fulfill his end of the bargain. 
	Now, as he sat on the same bed, in the same room in the same hotel, watching the dusk chase the night through the window, he knew that the time had finally come. He couldn't run any longer, it was time to pay up what he owed. The sky outside the window was a beautiful mixture of purple and pink, clouds like a painting on a giant canvas. What were the chances of ending up bavk in the same city, the same hotel, the exact same damn room! No, he knew that this was no coincidence, what was happening. He was sure, this time the jig was up. He was in the middle of headlining a tour and his manager had just somehow managed to book it this way? He didn't think so. No way. No, there was definitely no way. Not this time, good old buddy, he thought. 
	He clenched his hands nervously into fists. Sweat was forming on his brow and dotting his face. He could now sense a force besides himself in the room with him. A presence. He heard a low, ominous chuckle from somewhere unseen and jumped a little at the sound. Christ! He thought, noticeably shaking. 
	"Red..." A voice whispered maliciously in his ear, "Now, you and I both know why I brought you here tonight...Don't we?That's right, my boy, tonight is the night. It's time to pay up. Tonight you pay me what you owe me. Your soul will be mine before the new dawn breaks." And he laughed softly. 
	"No!" Reggie cried rising off the bed and onto his feet. The walls suddenly appeared to be closing in all around him. The room around him was changing somehow, contorting and contracting in strange and unnatural ways. Claustrophobia and paranoia came instantly crashing down on him, closing down on him, suffocating his breathing. "I'm not ready to go yet! Please!" He screamed out, pleading to nothing and no one. He knew he was alone in the room and yet, somehow, he wasn't. 
	"Yes!" The voice hissed back at him, "Yes, Red...There is no escape for you anymore. You have had plenty of time to enjoy everything I have blessed you with. Ten years to play and be merry. But now your time has come. I gave you what you wanted, now it's your turn to give me what I want..."
	Reggie's eyes darted around the room, desperate to find a way out, an escape. And then he found it. His eyes fell upon the window, partially opened. The curtain was wafting back and forth in the light breeze. His eyes locked onto this and it suddenly seemed like the most logical way out of this wretched place. Yes, he thought, the window.
	Reggie "Red Devil" Gardener sprinted toward the halfway opened window and burst through the upper half of it, raining down broken glass all around him. He was all the way at the top of the building, on the seventh floor. He plunged to his death that night, before the eyes of dozens of horrified bystandards, laughing madly all the way down. The next day the headlines read: "Troubled Rap Stars Leaps to Own Death in Atlanta Hotel".
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