Kitty Wittgenstein and the Sinister Society of Southpaws (4.3)

4.3 Luke Who's Talking

(note: to go to the beginning of the story, go here, to see all Chapter Four posts, go here and to see all Sinister Society of Southpaws posts, go here)


“I feel better than I thought I would,” I said to Luke. This wasn’t a lie.

“That’s great,” said Luke. He turned and beamed at the camera. “Let’s check the clock.” An excitable pause as the audience cheered the digital numbers on the clock around. “14.4 seconds!” said Luke, when the digits stopped. He turned back to me. “That puts you in the lead, Kitty. How do you feel about that?”

Luke’s post-ride interviews could use some work. Or, at the very least, some variation in the questions he was asking. He’d been given the job as a result of his experience in the film Eight Seconds (and its lesser-known sequel, Another Eight Seconds). I assumed he’d had some training in interviewing techniques since then. But, if so, it hadn’t taken.

“I feel very happy,” I said. “My charity will be very pleased.”

“Ha ha ha,” laughed Luke, for no apparent reason. “Thanks, Kitty.” He turned back to camera two. “After the break, we’ll see how Mos Def fares when he… rides the bucking bronco!”

More cheering, outro music and then, “Clear!”

Okay. Time to get out of here and try and work out what the heck was going on.

But before I left I thought maybe I should probe Luke a little. He was, after all, another leftie. I may have done some kind of transcendental consciousness shift thing, but that didn’t resolve my left-handed problems.

At least, I think it didn’t. It was a very confusing situation. I didn’t like being this confused. It upset the whole vibe of my day.

I began to probe. “So,” I said. “Do you know what happens after this?”

“After this?” he said. “After the show?” He looked me up and down, an unwelcome leer over his face. Wrong kind of probing, Luke.

“What’s sinister1 got planned for us?” I said.

He looked at me, baffled. “Sinister1?” he said.

“Aren’t you a member?” I said. I waved my left hand vaguely.

Luke waved back. “Not really sure what you’re getting at, there, Kit,” he said.

I sighed. Either he was telling the truth, and I was coming across as a crazy woman. Or he did know what I was getting at, and was blocking me out.

I had no qualms about Luke Perry thinking of me as a madwoman. More powerful people had thought things far worse. But if he did know something about the southpaw society, I needed to get him onside and try to unravel what was going on.

I still had Akira and Orlando to rescue. And I wasn’t going to get very far without some further information.

I leaned in to Luke. “It’s okay,” I whispered. I looked suspiciously from side to side. “Sinister1 has recruited me. I’m in on it.”

Another blank look. I didn’t think he was acting. I’ve seen Luke act, and this level of believability seemed beyond him. “The Sinister One has recruited you?” he said.

Was that a tinge of recognition in the question? Maybe I was onto something here.

I nodded.

“The Sinister One?” he repeated.

“Yes.”

“Kitty,” said Luke. “Aaron Spelling is dead.”

Okay. So maybe I wasn’t onto something.

(to be continued)