Fairy on the Mall

Honey stomped across the grassy expanse, her eyes flashing. If she ever got a hold of that son of a bitch agent of hers, her hands fisted and her eyes narrowed, she'd punch him. Picturing the diminutive man who held so much power over her career, she smiled humorlessly. She'd probably knock him out.

Walking around a tree, she caught sight of the crowd. She paused, thinking furiously of a way out. According to her agent, the producer and director were big wigs on Broadway with family in DC. She plucked at the cloth against her skin, the sticky summer air making it cling. If she made a good impression with this charity event, it might parlay into something more. She could feel her make up sliding down her face and had no doubt it was settling into the fine lines around her mouth.

Honey leaned against the tree, eyeing the stage a few hundred feet ahead. People milled in groups at its base. The sound of laughter and conversation floated across air that hung thickly without a hint of a breeze. The sun hovered just above the trees, splashing golden light across a backdrop painted garishly with flowers and trees.

Leaning closer, Honey snorted. Good God. It looked like it had been painted by a child. Sighing, she shifted her feet in their ballet flats, the shimmery pom pom on top wiggling. It was no use. She was going to have to do it.

"Well, well, who do we have here?"

Honey turned toward the deep voice. A man not much taller than she stood a few feet away. He was dressed casually in slacks and a short sleeved tee shirt. Frustration sliced through her as she noticed he wasn't breaking a sweat.

His eyes ran down her body, taking in the flowered crown, the iridescent leotard, and the fluttery skirt. Tilting to the side, he grinned at the wings sprouting from her back.

"Looks like I've found Tinkerbell."

"Obviously," she rolled her eyes and turned back towards the stage, dismissing him.

"I was wondering if I'd find a fairy flitting around the Mall."

"It must be your lucky day," Honey said absently, not moving her eyes from the crowd.

"I'm starting to think it might be."

Honey spun around, taking a half step back when she saw that he'd moved closer. "Look, I don't have time for this."

"Time for what?"

"Let me make this easier for you, sugar." Honey held up her hand. "I'm working, you're not my type," she bent a finger for each point, "I'm not going to sprinkle fairy dust on anything and I don't go out with men who are shorter than I am." Honey paused, her middle finger still up, mock surprise on her face. "Would you look at that? I thought I had five reasons."

The man leaned back, the smile off his face. "I may have a fifth reason that will negate your," he paused, jaw tight, "reasons."

"Oh really," Honey drawled.

He held up his index finger, "I'm the producer for this little job." He held up a second finger. "Oh wait. There's one more reason. I'm the man with the paycheck and you're late."

"Fantastic." Honey forced the flush away from her cheeks. "I can assume I'm fired?"

This piece of fiction was inspired by the Write on Edge prompt that required me to pick four numbers and then create something using those elements. My numbers corresponded to: an actress, a mall, summer, and something embarassing.

I hope you enjoyed this little glimpse of Honey's East Coast life. If this is your first time here, check out the rest of the Hidden Hollow series under Fictional Mandyland.

As usual, concrit is always welcomed.