Short Story: "A Long Downward Arc"

 

A Long Downward Arc

“And so,” said the man in the exquisite suit with the pale gray eyes, “as you can see this truly is a once in a lifetime opportunity.”

As the jet they were both flying in hung unmoving in the air, pitched downward at a dangerous angle, Jasmine Muhanni once again caught herself closing and reopening her eyes hard to make sure all this was real. It had been a year since she’d dropped any acid and a day or two since she’d smoked pot, yet she still found this just too much to believe.

“Believe it,” the man said, again showing the ability to read her mind. “Believe it and make a choice.”

Jasmine looked once again into his pale, almost impossible eyes, and recalled it was the look of those eyes that had drawn her to sit next to this man, who’d introduced himself as Neil Hill. She knew now, of course, that wasn’t his real name.

“Well?” he said again, holding his left hand up, fingers ready to be snapped. “What’s it going to be?”

Jasmine was the lead singer of a band that had all the needed components to make it big. They were all young and fresh-faced, attractive, and musically talented. They had the look and the sound people wanted. The band should be making it by now. Nonetheless, they just…weren’t. They practiced diligently, wrote well-crafted songs, played at every venue in which they could get booked, yet they never seemed to advance further. They posted videos regularly on YouTube and frequently put their new music on Spotify. Despite their effort, no managers or record labels seemed interested in them. 

And though Jasmine hated to admit it to herself, she felt held back by the band. Everyone involved, even the other band members, knew it was she the fans were really interested in. She had a star quality the others did not. Jasmine had formed the band, she spoke for the band, and it was her face people saw in marketing the band. She even went by the stage name Yazzamina, and the band was named Yazzi. She was the band, but sometimes Jasmine wished she could just free herself from it.

If Yazzi were ever to break through it’d be entirely because of her. Jasmine had been singing since she was a child and was gifted with a rare vocal range. Her mother, a talented singer herself, had taught Jasmine to master her voice at an early age, while her father taught her piano, guitar, and several traditional Persian instruments. Jasmine had the perfectly complected caramel skin and whiskey eyes American media love to photograph, all of which were framed by curls of thick, raven black hair.

She had the talent, she had the looks. All she needed now was the opportunity. 

And so it was that Jasmine found herself sitting next to this handsome, well-dressed man with the impossible eyes. Yazzi, doing a several-month tour all along the east coast, was currently playing in Florida. Two days earlier she’d been contacted by a small music-themed webzine that wanted to do a piece on the band which would include a photo spread of Jasmine. She’d flown out of Saint Augustine early that morning to New York for the interview with plans to meet the band back in Jacksonville in time for their next show. Jasmine knew she’d be utterly exhausted, but figured it was worth it to help promote Yazzi – and herself.

Even before the plane had taxied down the runway, she and the man in the window seat next to her were chatting, or more accurately, Jasmine was talking while the man listened. He introduced himself as Neil and said he’d never heard of her or the band Yazzi before but seemed interested in her career. Jasmine didn’t know why but talking to him felt very comfortable and natural. By about the time they were cruising somewhere over Virginia, Jasmine was telling Neil all about her fears of being held back by the band and her belief that she could, if she wanted to, make it entirely on her own without it.

Neil smiled then, and said, “You know, Jasmine, I think I might just be able to help you there.” It was then that he reached into his breast pocket and produced a business card the color of dark blood. It read simply:

Neil Hill

Talent Acquisitions

Jasmine’s breath caught in her throat as she read the black letters and her heart raced as she thought that this random encounter, this dumb luck moment might be what she’d been waiting for all these years.  

“It just might be,” Neil said.

Jasmine still stared at the card, then absentmindedly said, “Hmm…what’d you say?”

“I’m fairly certain you were just thinking this might be the break you’ve been waiting for. Correct?”

“Umm…,” Jasmine said, looking at him with wide-open eyes, “yeah, that’s exactly what I was thinking. How’d you know that?”

Neil shrugged his shoulders as he looked out the window and said, “It’s nothing…I’ve just been doing this work a long time, longer than you can imagine. I know how people react to things.” He then smiled at Jasmine, a smile that would’ve appeared too large and wolf-like had she not been again transfixed on the card.

“OK, OK, so…” Jasmine said, her mind racing with possibilities, “what does this mean? What’s next? Where do we go from here?”

“What’s next is I make you an offer on a…by the way, you are 22 years old, correct?”

Jasmine nodded her head, though she didn’t recall telling him that. “Yeah.”

“Right,” Neil said, “I thought so. So, I will make you an offer on a standard five-year contract, and then my team and I will take over everything. You, in return, will enjoy the benefits of fame and stardom. It is now…,” Neil paused to check his Rolex, “almost 4:30 in the afternoon. By 6:00 tonight you will be well on your way towards infinite wealth and fame.”

“OK…,” said Jasmine, confused by the matter-of-fact way in which Neil put things and with the noted absence of details. “So, do I call my lawyers to contact you guys, do we negotiate or do we sign a contract right away or later, or…what? How does this work?”

“Hmm, how does this work?” Neil said, looking out the window again as he repeated her words. “How this works is very different from what you’re expecting. Our contracts are a bit more unique than the industry standard because we ask for a little upfront…mmm…I suppose sacrifice is the best word for it.”

Before Jasmine could ask him what he meant by that, Neil said, pointing out the window, “See that engine?”

Jasmine looked, suddenly feeling very unsettled, and whispered, “Yeah…”

“Now watch,” he said and snapped his fingers.

The jet engine immediately suffered a small explosion, damaging the casing and rending the wing even as it ignited a fire. The explosion caused the entire plane to shudder midair and lurch hard to the right, and as it did alarms sounded, the emergency oxygen masks dropping from the ceiling. People screamed in terror and the flight attendants that were standing were thrown violently across seats and passengers. Several people slammed their heads hard enough against the cabin walls that they left bloodstains.

Jasmine grabbed hold of the seat arms and screamed in existential horror, fearing that she was soon about to die.

“Oh, don’t worry, Jasmine,” Neil said beside her. She looked over at him, surprised to see how calm and relaxed he looked, yet even more shocked to see him light a cigar. “You’re not going to die today. Either way, you’re not going to die.”

He took several deep draws from the cigar as the jet again lurched, this time to the left, accompanied by a sudden drop in altitude. The passengers screamed again, and again anyone not secured in their seats was thrown around the cabin like a rag doll. As they were, Jasmine could hear the snap! and pop! of broken bones, followed by cries of pain. Blood was again splattered against the cabin walls as heads were smashed against them due to the force.

“But,” Neil said, cigar clamped tightly in his teeth as he spoke, “this is starting to get boring, and I do hate to be bored. Let’s make things really interesting, shall we?!” He again snapped his fingers, and now the engine on the other wing exploded, depriving the jet of any way to stay airborne.

As soon as the engine burst apart, the jet pitched immediately downward as everyone onboard screamed, moaned, or called out for God’s mercy.

“OK, we’ll have enough of that,” Neil said, and once more snapped his fingers.

Jasmine, her eyes closed tight, too fearful to watch her own death approaching, suddenly heard everything become deathly quiet. At first, she thought they’d already crashed, and perhaps she was waking up in the afterlife, but she could still feel the seatbelt pressing tightly against her body, her hands clenching the seat arms, and she could smell Neil’s acrid cigar.

Jasmine opened one eye, and then another. Upon looking around she quickly closed them again, squeezed them tight, and then reopened them so shocked by what she saw.

Everything and everyone in the jet was frozen, unmoving in time.

Jasmine looked around wide-eyed and with mouth agape. Her mind wanted to reject what she saw, and yet, nonetheless, there it was. A flight attendant whom a moment before was falling backward was now pending as if from unseen wires, unmoving in the air. A passenger was twisted awkwardly, the blood streaming from his head dangling perfectly still. Jasmine looked out the window to see the horizon pitched forward at an impossible angle for the entire jet to be hanging unmoving in the air. 

She then looked at Neil, who sat comfortably in his seat, happily smoking his cigar.

“What…what…what…the fuck…?” she stammered, finding it hard to frame her words.

“What…the fuck?” Neil repeated, encouraging her to finish.

“What the fuck is happening?” Jasmine said at last, yelling her questions. “How is this possible? What the fuck?!”

“Things were starting to get rather hectic in here, you see, and since we have much to discuss I wanted a little quiet.”

“You…you did this?”

Neil looked at Jasmine and smiled, and now she was able to see his overly large, beast-like smile. “Oh, yes. Indeed, I did.”

She looked around again, her mind still reeling and fighting hard against the reality of what she saw. “You stopped time?!”

“Ah,” Neil said, holding up a finger like a lecturing professor. “That. No, I didn’t actually stop time. We’re powerful, but only…you know…He…can do that,” Neil whispered that one word as if it were a foul curse, his lip curling into a sneer and pointing upward as he did. “No, what I’ve done is made a pocket universe just big enough to fit this plane, a pocket universe where time travels very differently than normal. If you look carefully you can see what I mean.”

Confused, Jasmine looked again at the passengers and flight attendants who appeared unmoving, but now when she examined them closely, she realized that there was small, almost imperceptible movement there. Time hadn’t stopped, it had just slowed down to almost nothing at all.

Jasmine’s mind raced with one impossibility after another, making her feel dizzy and nauseous. Seizing on something, anything she could find to try and make sense of this strange new world she found herself in, she asked, “Who are you? You said you’re powerful, but who are you?”

He smiled again, puffing his cigar, and said, “My name – my real name – is Claunek. I’m a demon, and you might consider me the agent of Hell, so to speak. I’m here to offer you a deal you will not get anywhere else, of that, you may be certain.”

Her mind still racing, Jasmine tried to add up everything he just said, trying to compare it against the predictable world in which she had previously existed. Finding no way to reconcile the two, she decided to let go of trying to make sense of this and listen rather than risk rending her sanity in two.

“You…” she said haltingly, swallowing hard, “you said you had an offer?”

“Mmm…that we do. As I said earlier, my employer and I would like to offer you a contract for the standard five-year period. We’re quite impressed with your drive and your ambition, your desire to succeed, so we’d like to help you get to the top.”

“So, I need to sell my soul to you for success, like just like in all the old stories? Is that what you’re saying? No way!”

Claunek surprised Jasmine by laughing at her response, deeply and fully. “Sell your soul? Oh, child, what lies they’ve told you. No, we’re not interested in your soul. Keep your soul and do with it whatever you want. I’m confident you’ll do the very best with you can.” He winked at her as he puffed on his cigar.

“Then what do you want?”

“Simply agree to our terms, and we will guarantee you all the success, fame, and riches you could possibly imagine.” He held up a finger to prevent her from saying anything as he took several quick puffs of his cigar, then said, “Now, of course, we will be assigning a human associate of ours to act as your manager, one who will guide you and your career, one who will help you make decisions about your music and who will…introduce you to the right kind of people.”

“The right kind of people?” Jasmine asked curiously.

“Mmhmm,” said Claunek. “People that will help your career. As is the norm, your manager will guide your music and your choices and your entire career…with our feedback, of course. Really, in the end, no different than any other music contract.”

Jasmine, still overwhelmed with the bizarre nature of everything that had just happened, found it difficult to think clearly. She knew she should consider this carefully – in fact, she knew she should reject the entire idea of signing a contract with a demon! – yet all she could focus on was what Claunek had promised her: All the success, fame, and riches you could possibly imagine.

That was a temptation Jasmine found impossible to ignore. All she had to do was agree to Claunek’s terms – but she suddenly realized he hadn’t mentioned any yet.

“Terms,” she said. “You said there were terms. What are they?”

“Yes. Our terms are very simple and quite painless…for you. They are these: Accept the contract we have offered to you, and, after whisking you away to safety, this jet plane will continue its long downward arc, killing everyone aboard. Decline our offer, and the engines will miraculously start again, the plane will level out, and you will return to obscurity with no memory of this event at all.”

Jasmine was shocked and disgusted by these terms. She looked around at the other passengers, of which there were many. Across from her was what looked like a newlywed couple, perhaps on their way to their honeymoon, clutching hands as they gently touched forehands together, their faces twisted into masks of anguish and terror. A few rows ahead of her Jasmine had seen a family taking turns holding a baby, who now looked around with widely opened eyes, unaware of the doom that was soon to greet her. There were mothers, fathers, children, husbands, wives on this plane. These were people with their own desires, dreams, and goals, with their own lives.

“Lives,” Claunek said, “that will need to be snuffed out if you are to achieve your goals, Jasmine. Give me the word and I’ll have but to snap my fingers, and all your dreams will instantly be achieved. The choice is yours but remember that we guarantee you success. We guarantee you fame, we guarantee you power and wealth and luxury, much more so than you can imagine, but we only ever make this offer once. And so, as you can see this truly is a once in a lifetime opportunity.”

Jasmine blinked hard again, overwhelmed by this choice, and still struggling to believe this was really happening to her.

“Believe it,” Claunek said. “Believe it and make a choice.”

Jasmine looked once again into his pale, almost impossible eyes, and recalled it was the look of those eyes that had drawn her to sit next to him. Claunek’s face was a fashion magazine model gorgeous, looking as if sculpted from a living block of marble. His suit would cost more than her band earned in three months of hard, slavish toil…and he smelled incredible. 

Why shouldn’t I have this for myself? she asked herself. Why shouldn’t I have some of the good life, a life of luxury? I deserve it, don’t I?

But what about the people on this plane? another voice asked, one far in the back of her mind that sounded disturbingly like her mother’s. Don’t they deserve a life?

Jasmine looked around again at the people on the plane with her, thinking deeply about the implications of her decision. If she accepted Claunek’s offer, they all die. In a few second’s regular time, the plane will fall from the sky and slam into the ground, tearing the jet and everyone in it to pieces. All of these people and their lives, their hopes and dreams and aspirations, would be snuffed out in an instant, like blowing out a candle.

If they die, that would be Jasmine’s fault. The people on this plane would be a sacrifice willingly made to her fame and fortune.  

“Well?” Claunek said again, holding his left hand up, fingers ready to be snapped. “What’s it going to be?”

Despite her apprehensions, Jasmine had a sudden image of herself, a vision of a possible future. She saw herself relaxing on a chaise lounge in the searing heat beside an enormous swimming pool. In her vision, Jasmine already knew she owned the gorgeous villa that boasted this pool, which gleamed white in the hot sun and looked like it was nestled in the rocks of a Greek island paradise, the sort of place she’d always longed to visit one day. From where she sat, Jasmine could see the village below surrounding her villa with equally brilliant white and pale-yellow houses and the pristine, sugar sand beach beyond.

Jasmine knew her vision represented a small portion of her personal wealth, knowing she also owned several other stunning properties throughout the world. All of this was made possible by the amount of money she had in her bank accounts fed by record-breaking music sales. She owned this villa, and so much, more because of her wild success. She owned more than the average person could afford in three lifetimes. She owned whatever she wanted.

This included the Greek pool cleaner currently skimming debris from it, the one with the olive skin and the curly hair and the perfect body with the chin cleft so deep Jasmine could slip her tongue inside and lick it, which she often did.

Jasmine licked her dry lips once, hungrily, like an animal about to pounce on its prey.

Who are these people to me, anyway? she asked herself, again missing the growing smile on Claunek’s face. They’re not family, they’re not friends. They’re not me. They won’t suffer with me as my career goes nowhere. They won’t pay my bills. They won’t care about me.

And then, coldly, Fuck them.

Jasmine put her hand out as if to shake Claunek’s hand and said, “Done. Let’s do this.” Rather than shaking Jasmine’s hand, he instead just snapped his fingers, and she was instantly overcome with a brilliant white light.

When her vision returned to normal, Jasmine found herself again flying on a jet, though clearly a different one from the first. She sat now on the opposite side of the cabin as she had before and was sitting next to the window. She also now sat in first class. Jasmine had an unpleasant coppery taste in her mouth as the blinding white faded from her vision and normal colors returned to her surroundings. She looked around befuddled and confused, then heard a woman’s voice next to her.

“Good thing you missed your original flight back to Florida today,” she said. “I hear the plane you were supposed to be on just crashed.”

Jasmine looked and saw a woman with skin the color of dark chocolate and an all but shaved head looking back at her with pale gray eyes. Those piercing eyes looked even more impossible when contrasted by her dark skin tones. She wore an expensive business suit that, though serious, was also very trendy and chic.

Taking a moment to put together what had happened, Jasmine said, “Claunek?”

“Mmhmm…,” she said, taking a business card out of her back-leather purse and handing it to Jasmine. “You’ll find through your career I come in many shapes and sizes and colors.”

Jasmine looked at the dark red card, which now read:

Nikki Nix

Talent Acquisitions

“You will be happy to know that all the appropriate sacrifices have been made,” Claunek as Nikki said. “You have unleashed the spirits, and everything will soon be exactly as you have so fondly wished it to be.”

Jasmine looked away, peering out the window to the land passing by below, a world that from her height looked so normal yet one that she now knew was not. Suddenly overwhelmed by a nauseating sense of guilt, Jasmine covered her face with both hands and hung her head low.

“How could I do that, Claunek? How could I do that to all those people? I killed –” Jasmine stopped when, turning to look at Claunek, she saw the seat next to her was quite empty. 

It’s done. It’s done and I’ve done it. There’s nothing I can do now but bear this.

Jasmine sat for the brief remainder of the flight to Jacksonville staring forward, her eyes unmoving as she felt all the guilt and self-loathing and disgust at what she’d done wash over her. She felt like she was drowning in it, but also felt like she richly deserved to drown. She felt like she deserved anything, any evil, that might come her way for what she’d done. At that moment, Jasmine truly hated herself for what she chose to do and wished she had gone down with the plane.

Automaton like, she walked through the concourse towards the baggage claim, when she remembered her phone was still on airplane mode. As soon as she connected to the airport wi-fi, Jasmine could see she had missed numerous phone calls from friends and family, mostly from her mother. Concerned, she stood over by a wall to get out of the way and immediately called her mother.

“Oh, thank God you’re OK!” her mother said as soon as she picked up the phone. “I was worried sick about you, Jazzy. Sick! They couldn’t find you there and I didn’t know where you were either.”

“Ma, what’s going on?”

“Wha…what? You don’t…you don’t know? You haven’t heard?”

“No, I’ve been on a plane all day. Ma, what the hell is going on?!”

There was a long pause, and then Jasmine’s mother said, “Jazzy, I’m so sorry to tell you this, but everyone in the band is…is dead.”

An icy, tingly chill poured over Jasmine as her knees suddenly felt weak, and she had to slowly slide down the wall behind her or risk falling. Her band members, the five people she’d spent more time with over the past several years than anyone, even her family – they were her family at this point! – were now dead. Jasmine was shocked, overwhelmed with grief, and unable to do anything but weep bitter tears.

Then she remembered what Claunek had said to her at the end: You will be happy to know that all the appropriate sacrifices have been made.

“Mom,” Jasmine now yelled in a tear-choked voice. “What happened? When did this happen?!”

“Well, Jazzy, I guess the details aren’t clear, but apparently they were heading north on Route 1, towards Jacksonville, when a drunk driver crossed lanes and crashed head-on into them. Everyone died instantly.”

“When?!” Jasmine screamed at her mother. “When did this happen?”  

“Honey, I don’t know, I guess…around 4:30 or so.”

 You will be happy to know that all the appropriate sacrifices have been made.

Jasmine let the phone slip out of her hands as she now wailed loudly, not caring that there was an entire airport looking at her. Thankfully, most people in the airport pretended they didn’t see a young woman sitting crumpled against a wall weeping rather than ask what was wrong or if they could help her. For Jasmine, their apathy was a blessing at that moment.

“I did this,” she whispered after her crying had abated. “I did this to them. I killed them.”

Still sitting against the wall, Jasmine picked up her phone to leave, and as soon as she did it rang. It was a number she didn’t know from Los Angeles.

“Hello?” she said with a sniffle. 

“Jasmine,” a man with a rich British accent said, “this is Andy Cook, I’m the manager Ms. Nix has assigned to work with you.”

Jasmine sniffled again and was just about to tell him and all of them to fuck off, to go back to hell, to burn their contract to ashes, when he said, “I know you’re angry right now, Jasmine, and I’m so, so sorry about the tragic loss of your bandmates, but this is the time for us to act, Love. I’ve already arranged an interview and photoshoot at Rolling Stone for you in two days, and I can say they’re very interested to tell your story.”

That piqued her interest. “Really? They want to tell my story?”

“Fuck yeah they do! The lone survivor of a band that was just about to make it big, a talented singer and songwriter, the kid who has star potential written all over her. This is the kind of story people eat up, Love!”

“Oh,” Jasmine said feebly, surprised to hear her story would be of interest to anyone. “I had no idea.”  

“Yeah,” Cook said, “and so the beginning of next week we’ll be meeting with some producers in Hollywood because, once the ball gets rolling on this, they’re going to want to get a movie about you going quickly. While we’re out there I’ll introduce you to some friends of mine, show you around, get you to meet the right people. Hit a party or two.”

“Wow…yeah, OK,” Jasmine said, the feeling of shame and disgust melting away like snow in the hot summer sun.

“Then,” Cook said, “and this is the biggie, are you ready? Then…we have a meeting at the end of next week with some folks at a little place called Universal Music Group – maybe you’ve heard of them, Love? – who are extremely interested in signing you for an exclusive and very lucrative solo contract. What do you think about that?”

Jasmine gasped, covering her mouth with her hand. Gone altogether was any remorse for what she’d done, gone was any self-hatred, gone was any lingering connection to the past she’d had with her band. Now, the only thing Jasmine could see was a long and glorious pathway stretching out before her, one made of gold.

“I think that sounds amazing, Andy!”

“Excellent,” he said. “We’ve already booked you a room at the Omni Jacksonville. There’s a limo waiting out front for you now. Take it there, and I’ll contact you later, then we’ll make plans for what comes next, OK?”

“Yeah…OK, great.”

“I’m very excited about this, Jasmine,” Cook said. “You’re going to be huge. Huge! Alright, Love, I gotta go. We’ll talk soon.”

As she ended the call, she saw the time had just turned to 6:00.

Jasmine put her head back against the cold wall and thought about the day she’d just had. She bit her lower lip as she played with images of the delicious new possibilities open to her. She felt some sadness about the sacrifices that had to be made but reasoned someone always had to lose if someone else is to win.

Isn’t that the way of the world, after all? she thought to herself. Sometimes, to be a winner a person had to be ruthless, right? Maybe even cruel. Occasionally…evil? Right?

Jasmine walked out of the airport shortly afterward to get into the limo waiting for her, feeling on that day very much like a winner.