Here's my submission to @VinMcCarthy's latest flash fiction prompt. This week's post asks to write on the following scenario:
Last Conversation: Two people have gathered, and for whatever reason, this will be the last time they will be able to speak with one another. Using dialogue, tell us who these people are, why this is their last talk, and anything else you see fit. 360 words.
Disclaimer: I really, really don't like dialogue. But here goes.
"You're a dick, Dustin. Did you know that?"
"Look, Mick. You can't afford this tour. Your European fanbase is shit, and you know that. It's not fair to use your music as an excuse for your vacations. And it's definitely not fair to use your talent agent as your travel agent."
"No, Dustin, you're my agent. You're not my talent agent, you're my goddamn agent. So I'm going, and I'm going to play shows. And I'd like you to book them for me. Thanks."
Mick looked at Dustin once more, took a long drag on the once-cold beer than lay before him, and turned to get up.
"I'll see you," he said dismissively.
"'I'll see you?' What the fuck does that mean, Dustin? 'I'll see you?' I'll see you in Europe, you dirtbag."
Dustin turned back toward the table as Mick uttered those last words. He looked as if he was about to say something, but instead, reached to the table toward the beer glass once more. It was empty, but he raised it to his mouth anyway. He didn't tip it back all the way as if there were one more sip; instead, he tilted it as if it had been nearly full. He shook his head once more, looking Mick directly in the eyes. Dustin reached into his back pocket and pulled out a lone, crisp dollar bill. He laid it under his empty glass.
"Fuck you, and goodbye," the action said. Dustin, though, said nothing. He turned, and left.