DUSTWORLD

IT’S A SWELTERING NIGHT in the Brooklyn apartment without air conditioning. The huge Coney Island prize bear is keeled over on the floor like a drunken house guest. Cosmo is on the couch with TV remote in one hand and a nearly-empty bottle of whiskey in the other, eyes glazed on an old disaster movie. Eve walks in the front door. She hangs her purse and jacket. 

        Cosmo eyes her coldly. “So how was your hot date?”

        “What?”

        “Your date, Eve. Did you enjoy your fucking date?”

        “Are you stalking me?”

        “I know he called you.”

        “What are you talking about?”

        “Ash, Eve. I know who you were with.”

        “Cosmo I’m not doing this with you again.”

        “Answer the goddamn question.”

        “It wasn’t a date.”

        “Oh fucking sure…”

        “He says hi, actually.”

        “Oh, hi Adam ASS.”

        “You know I will say, maturity is one area he definitely has the upper hand over you.”

        “Yeah well fuck him,” he suggests flatly. 

        She ignores the bait. “He said he wants me to try out for a big industry showcase next month. He said I have talent.”

        “Please just tell me you’re naive.”

        “I’m naive? How am I naive? Just because another man sees my talent I am being naive?”

        “He just wants one thing, Eve.”

        “You are so fucking selfish.”

        “I’m selfish?”

        “Yes. You’re selfish and egotistical. What happened to you Cosmo? You’re a complete mess.”

        “Oh me? I’m a fuckin mess?” Spittle flies from Cosmo’s jowls. “Look at you!”

        “I don’t even recognize you anymore. You’re not the man I fell in love with.”

        “And what the hell do you think you are?” he snarls. “A fucking star?”

        “I thought you believed in me.”

        “Eve you don’t need him.” Cosmo’s eyes are desperate as he pulls at his own hair. “He’s a washed up fuckin clown.”

        “Are you kidding? He’s Adam Ash. Do you even know what that means?” Eve leans in, pleading. “You always bitch and moan about the shitty cards you were dealt, Cosmo. Well he’s the kind of guy that can deal you a hand.”

        “I don’t want anything that guy is dealing.”

        “Well I fucking do! Is that so wrong? You said we were extraordinary. You think you're so special Cosmo. You think the world owes you. You're not special. You are a coward. You're the most normal person in the world.”

        “Well that may be so, but it doesn’t change the fact that you’re a fuckin slut.”

        Eve grabs her purse and jacket and walks out on him, slamming the door. Instant regret. Cosmo stews for a moment in tenuous stillness before violently punching the wall.

        In the street outside the apartment, Eve flags down a yellow cab. Lights of the city glint off the tracks of Eve’s tears as she stares out the window of the taxi.

        Cosmo pulls a fresh bottle of whiskey from the shelf and cracks the cap. He lumbers across the room and slumps on the couch as he takes a swig. A telecast of the Adam Ash concert at Madison Square Garden is on TV.

        Inside the world’s most famous arena, a valley of humanity sways like ripe wheat. Adam Ash is in the center of the massive stage, a sparkling hollow body guitar strapped to his gut, pick-hand cupped to his ear, as the crowd serenades him with his own lyrics. ​

        In the VIP dressing room after Adam’s set, a room full of band members and groupies. Eve leans against a table by the side, nursing a beer by herself. Adam, surrounded by hot women and stargazing men, eyes her through the crowd. Eve notices Adam noticing her. Adam smiles from across the room. She sips her beer hiding a flattered grin.

        Time to hit the afterparty. The dressing room starts clearing out. Adam walks up to Eve and offers his arm. She looks around, awkwardly. Faces of awe and jealousy. She slips her hand into the crook of Adam Ash’s elbow and walks with him out of the room.

        The light of the TV dances in Cosmo’s glassy eyes as he stares flatly at the screen.

Onscreen, a reporter lady with a logo-cube microphone interviews a dad and son decked out in Adam Ash Band merch outside Madison Square Garden. 

        Cosmo watches with raised brow as the reporter ditches her interview with the fans and runs off screaming for the camera to follow as she rushes alongside a small gang of photographers to intercept Adam Ash himself emerging from a side exit in the distance. The horde converges upon a waiting limousine on the curb. Cosmo blinks hard, eyes bleary. He can’t believe what he’s seeing as he watches Adam Ash duck into the limo with... Eve?

        Cosmo takes a hard slug, switches the channel. 

        An old disaster movie plays on cable.

        Streaks of white light flash as rain sloshes on the windows of the cockpit of a commercial airliner. A civilian and a stewardess are at the flight controls as lightning claps outside the jet. Cosmo is the guy flying the plane, sweating his ass off. The stewardess is Eve. She gazes at him lovingly and says something supportive. Cosmo smiles. She reaches her hand to him. He takes it. Eve comes in for a kiss; he moves toward her. As they lean in, Cosmo closes his eyes.

        Back in the dank dark living room, Cosmo opens his eyes. 

        He squints at the TV. 

        Onscreen, the same scene in the cockpit, but with Adam Ash as the male protagonist. Ash and Eve smooch. 

        In a rage, Cosmo slings the bottle at the TV, which explodes into a shower of glass and liquor. He storms through the apartment like a caged tiger with clenched fists and crazy eyes. He trashes the place. 

        Everything comes crashing down.

        Adam and Eve walk arm in arm down a secret VIP hall in the arena. They emerge from a side exit and hustle to a limo waiting by the curb. As paparazzi close in on them, Adam’s driver Jerry holds the rear door of the limo open. As Eve glances back at the surging horde, popping flash bulbs light up her face. She scrambles into the limo. Adam smiles an apology to the cameras and ducks inside, as Jerry squeezes his way around the car to the driver’s door. Eve shields her eyes as flashes burst through the glass like lighting in a cockpit. Camera lenses clack on tinted windows as the car’s tires churn smoke and the limo gets away.

        Inside the speeding luxury ride, Eve sits across from Adam, staring out the window with a clouded expression. Adam observes her curiously from a respectful distance.

        Cosmo gropes in the medicine cabinet, grabbing a container of pills and emptying it in his mouth, washing it down with a slug from the whiskey bottle. He closes the medicine cabinet and glowers at himself in the mirror, his face contorting into a mask of anguish. Cosmo blocks his reflection with his hand, leaning into the glass until it cracks. He teeters briefly before trying to catch his balance on the shower curtain, plastic rungs snapping off the rod.

        The limo pulls up in front of Eve and Cosmo’s apartment. As Eve gets out, Jerry closes the door behind her before circling back around to the drivers compartment. The limo pulls away, leaving her standing alone on the sidewalk in a shaft of street light by the front vestibule. 

        She enters the apartment, sensing something is off. Broken glass everywhere. Her eyes frantic. Calls Cosmo’s name. At the bathroom door, she cries out in horror. 

        Cosmo is lying face down on the tile in a puddle of his own bloody vomit.