Daffodil's Scripts

Bang! Bang! Bang! BangBangBang!

“Guinivere, open up dear,” Jennifer called out before knocking on the door again. 

“Jen, I don’t think-” Peter started.

“It’s Jennifer, Peter. You know I don’t like that silly idea of shortening names. Guinivere!” Jennifer banged on the door again. “Blast it, where is that girl?”

“I don’t think-” The door opened before Peter could get another word in. 

Jennifer marched through the opening with her bags in hand. Peter watched the talent agent make herself at home as he cautiously went through the door. Gwen wasn’t here, couldn’t be here. Chuck made sure of that. How the hell did the door-? 

“Peter!” Jennifer called from the other room. “Come in here darling.”

Peter closed the door behind him and rubbed the stub of where his left ear used to be. It was still scabbed over and the newly healed skin made it itch. The house was a quaint little thing Gwen had inherited from her grandmother. Everything looked old and antique from the vomit yellow walls to the scuffed wooden floor. Even the pictures on the walls were dusty, though Peter didn’t look at them in detail. Gwen made a habit of not talking about her family. 

“My darling, Peter, must you try my patience when we have so much work to do?” Peter shook himself out of his reverie and walked towards Jennifer’s voice. The floorboards creaked underneath him.

“Aw, there you are darling. My goodness how time crawls when you act like a tourist. Now, Guinivere went off to make some coffee and some of those little cookie things I like. Come take my coat, Peter. We’re going to be here awhile.” Jennifer spread her arms out in an expectant manner. 

With wary eyes, Peter made his way over and took off Jennifer’s white, designer coat and flung it over one of the kitchen chairs. He took his own brown suit coat off and added it to the makeshift pile. 

“Peter! That’s cashmere. You can’t be so indelicate. Goodness, what has gotten into you today? Be a good boy and go hang it up by the front door.” Jennifer shooed him away as she took out different manuscripts from her bag. 

He grabbed the coats and scanned the room looking for signs of Gwen. Nothing, it was quiet. The lights were off in the kitchen and it was quiet. If Gwen truly had been in there, she would’ve had the lights on and been humming a tune while she made coffee. Idly, he wondered which tune it would have been today. She always mixed it up depending on her mood. He made it back to the entrance and noticed her shoes weren’t there. Hanging up the coats, he released the tension he’d been building in his shoulders and smiled. Gwen had been wearing her shoes when Chuck took care of her, so if they weren’t here then she couldn’t have been either. 

Returning to the dining room, he noticed the scripts were laid out all on the oak table. Jennifer stood over the audition options with three in her hands. She’d put up her hair in a tight bun and wore her reading glasses as she always did when she got focused on her work. 

“Peter, I’ve narrowed down our options to three. Now I want your opinion before Guinivere gets back and then we’ll make our recommendations and have her pick the final one. The first one here.” She tossed him the smallest script. “It’s not finished yet, but it has potential. It’s about a girl who gets murdered by her ex-boyfriend after she broke up with him once she found out about all of his shady dealings.”

Peter’s hands froze as he caught the script. No, that’s not what happened. That’s not what happened. Gwen never found out about his side projects. Even if she did, he was the one that broke up with her. It wasn’t his fault she didn’t react well to the breakup. He took a quick breath in and forced himself to put the script down, it wouldn’t do to let Jennifer see any ruffled feathers. “It’s a cliche, Jen. There’s enough movies out there like that. What else?”

“It’s Jennifer, Peter. Haven’t we been over this before? Shortening names is just silly.” She tossed him the next script. “This one I think Guinivere would be perfect for, but there’s something that feels off about it to me. It’s about a girl’s love of her garden.”

Gwen loved gardening, she couldn’t stop talking about her daffodils the last time he saw her. No wonder Jennifer thought this script would be perfect. 

“What’s off? This sounds like an easy shoo-in,” he asked, clutching the manuscript until his knuckles were white. 

Jennifer tapped her glasses. “She spends so much time in her garden caring for it, but why? There’s no motive. It’s not a garden that she upkeeps for a farmer’s market. No one is trying to steal her marigolds. What’s the purpose?”

“It’s symbolic of her soul.” Peter responded before he could stop himself. When Jennifer’s gaze shifted to him, he mentally berated himself for speaking. 

“Interesting. Go on.” She motioned for him to continue. 

“Maybe the character sees the different flowers as different parts of her soul, and so she tends to them as a way of taking care of herself.” He hoped to God that Gwen hadn’t told Jennifer that. 

“Hmmm. I wonder what aspect of her soul these daffodils would have represented?” Jennifer pointed at the center of the table. Peter glanced and caught his breath. There was a vase filled with freshly picked daffodils. That was impossible. Gwen wasn’t here. Chuck made sure she couldn’t be here. 

“Where’s Gwen? Shouldn’t she be back by now?” He asked in a shaky voice. 

“She’ll be here soon, I”m sure.” Jennifer waved him off. “Now for this last script. The girl in it is a stunt car driver and makes a habit out of crashing. I haven’t read the ending yet, but I’m a sucker for car crashes. Aren’t you?” She tossed the final one his way. Peter failed to catch it and the manuscript fell on the table. 

This wasn’t a coincidence, was it? Gwen’s unconscious body was placed in the car right before Chuck drove it into the lake. No, this was all too well put together to be just a coincidence. His hand migrated to his ear stub again, feeling the last parting gift Gwen had given him. 

“Jen, what is this?” Peter asked in a quiet voice.

“Jennifer,” She corrected. “And I do believe Guinivere will tell her herself. She’s just cleaning up the kitchen.”

“There’s no one there, Jen. Gwen is dead. But you, you knew this. How? How did you know?!” Peter pointed at Jennifer. “What are we really doing here?”

“Well, Peter.” She said, emphasizing the r. “When you get my name right, maybe then we can have an honest conversation. Until then, I think I’ll leave it to Guinivere.”

“Gwen isn’t here, Jennifer!” Peter yelled, spitting her name out. “Now you’re going to tell me what the hell we’re doing here.”

“Tsk.” Jennifer tutted. “Very well, Peter. Since you were so polite as to finally address me by my proper name, I shall give you a hint. Turn around.”

Peter turned around and his eyes bulged. Gwen stood in the doorway, as beautiful as the first day he met her. Soft, dark skin with freckles that climbed up her arms. Lovely brown hair that cascaded down in waves to her lower back. Brown eyes with little gold specks that reflected the light. She wore that yellow sundress he’d gotten her on their anniversary. 

“Gwen,” he breathed out. “You. You aren’t supposed to be here. I thought you were dead.”

“Petey, come here. Baby, I’ve missed you.” Her voice both soothed him and made his heart race. How was she still alive? Peter took an involuntary step forward, then another until he was right in front of her. 

He gulped. “How, how are you here?”

Gwen’s hand caressed the stub of his ear as she looked deep into his eyes. “Gwen isn’t here, Petey. You killed her, remember?”

Bang! Bang! Peter felt sharp pain in his chest. He looked down, blood. Why was there blood? Blood was supposed to be on the inside of his body, not outside. The room spun and he couldn’t tell where up or down was anymore. His body hit the floor, but he barely felt it. 

“Gwen,” he rasped. It was getting harder to breathe. He coughed and lay on the ground, too tired to move. 

“Thank you, Jennifer.” Gwen’s voice washed over him. He laughed until it turned into a cough. Jennifer did this. Of course she did. He didn’t know how she knew what she knew or why she did it, but it was her.

“You’re welcome, Joselyn. Anything for Guinivere.” Jennifer’s heel clicked until she stood over him and forced his eyes open. The world blurred for a moment until Peter blinked his eyes back into focus. 

“Peter, darling, you’ve been a naughty boy haven’t you?” Jennifer’s revolver was in his face.

“Gwen?” He looked over at the girl he loved. The one he’d hired Chuck to take care of. She was still in the doorway, but her arms were crossed and she didn’t look happy. Tears streamed down his face. “I’m. Sorry.”

“Sorry?” Gwen snapped. “You killed my sister, you son of a bitch. Sorry won’t bring her back.”

Jennifer tapped Peter’s nose with the barrel of her gun. “You’ve taken her sister and my friend away. I would say it’s been a pleasure working with you Peter, but it truly hasn’t.”

“No. Jen. Please.” Peter tried to swallow, but his neck wasn’t cooperating. 

“It’s Jennifer.” Bang!