‘What shall we do now?’
‘I don’t know. I thought you would have some idea.’
‘Well, if you don’t mind me saying, you are the protagonist. I would have thought you would have at least some idea of why we are here.’
‘Me? The protagonist? Whatever gave you that idea?’
‘You are male and he is a male writer. You are bound to be the protagonist.’
‘Me, male? Are you sure?’ He looked down at himself. ‘So what? This is the 21st century. It is just as likely he could have a strong female lead, more likely in some genres.’
‘Humph.’ Della crossed her arms under her breasts. ‘We’ll see.’ She looked around. ‘Anyway, have you any idea what genre this is supposed to be? That would at least give us some clue.’
Jake shrugged. ‘I’m not sure that genre means so much these days, if it ever did.’
‘What are you talking about?’ Della glanced around nervously. ‘This isn’t going to be some sort of experimental fiction is it?’
Jake shuddered. ‘I hope not. I was in some Beckett-esque piece once. Just standing around on a bare set, waiting for something to happen. Longest short story of my life.’
Della walked across to the very edge of the description. She looked down. ‘Hey, from over here you can see the rest of the blank page below. Come and have a look.’
‘No, thanks.’ Jake shuddered. ‘I don’t like heights.’
Della crossed her arms. ‘So, you’re unlikely to be some kind of action hero, then. Typical.’
‘It could be my flaw. I could have to face up to my fear of heights to rescue,’ he looked pointedly at Della, ‘the damsel in distress.’
Della crossed her arms again. ‘Great.’
‘Or you could rescue me.’ He risked a smile.
‘What about it?’
‘It is an action hero type name, isn’t it?’ She looked at him, up and down slowly. ‘Anyway, you don’t look like a Nigel, I’ll give you that.’
‘Are you objectifying me?’
‘What? How dare you. I was just-’
‘No, listen. I didn’t mean it that way.’ Jake took a few steps towards her.
‘Go on.’ Della was wary, shifting over towards the left margin of the page.
‘You looking at me like that….’
‘Y’know, like that.’
‘No. I don’t know what you mean.’
Jake shrugged, noticing the way Della watched his muscles shift, flex and move. He folded his bare arms across his white vest. ‘I just thought this could – maybe – be a romance?’
‘A romance? The author is a man.’
‘Women write romance, for other women.’
‘He could use a pen name.’
‘I doubt it. You’ve see how vain he is. He wants the world to know his name. He wants to be famous.’
‘Ha. Yeah, right.’ Jake looked around at the bare page. ‘He’ll have to do better than this.’
‘I don’t know. Some say he has a way with words, that he has some imagination.’
‘He could do with getting a grip on story though. We’ve been here for almost a page now and nothing has happened.’
Just then, a new page began.
Both turned shock on their faces, when they saw what that new page had bought with it, and what happened next.
Suddenly the page wasn’t so blank anymore.