A Thief Telling Some Jokes, Part 3: Exeunt

Things go well after the show. A few people tell Martin he was hilarious. This is expected. A lot of people don’t talk to him at all. This is nice. Herb makes his way through the crowd to shake hands with his headliner.

“A good show as always, Martin. How about I give you one-and-a-half the usual rate?” Not bad! Everything Martin can deduct from the balance owed to Michelle is welcomed.

“You’re too generous, Herb! Too generous.” Once again Martin is forced to scare up some friendliness for financial reasons. Although there’s really no reason for Martin to not be nice to Herb, he needs to keep up the idea that he’s an asshole deep down. He wouldn’t want to tarnish an otherwise stellar reputation.

Martin hangs around in the club with Ian and Hilda until almost everyone has made their way out. At one point Martin spots Ian and Herb talking. Herb is clearly confused and possibly on the verge of laughing. Ian does not disappoint.

“Looks like Herb’s getting a taste of the insanity,” says Martin, pointing out the conversational pair to Hilda.

“I think you mean ‘the fanciness.’” She laughs softly knowing that Martin won’t understand. He really doesn’t. “Hey,” she exclaims, smacking Martin on the chest, “what’s the gift you have for me?” Uh. Hmm.

“Well, I got your voicemail today.”

“And you didn’t come to get me?” she seems genuinely offended. Uh oh. Bring it around, Martin.

“No no, I didn’t even get the voicemail until it would have been much too late. But I figured that, rather than karmic retribution, it was probably some repo guys who took your car.”

“Yeah…probably should have figured out those payments, huh?”

“See, that’s my gift for you.” Martin enthusiastically thrusts the gift envelope toward her.

“You figured out how to pay for my car?” Hilda begins to open the envelope, but Martin stops her mid-flap.

“Yes! Yeah, just open that after I drop you off. I’m not good with gifts.” Hopefully she’ll be more inclined to accept if she can’t reject it in person.

“Okay, I guess I can wait, but now I just want to get home.” She smiles at Martin, and for a moment he feels absolved of his guilt. If this is what it feels like to be nice, he’s not entirely sure he hates it. Weird.

“Yeesh, so greedy.” There we go. Hilda scowls at Martin, then quickly lets it go. Ian and Herb have finished, and the crazy man is also ready to go.

“Let’s get this gypsy caravan out on the trail.” Yes, Ian, let’s do that.

Even later in the evening, Martin’s cell phone begins buzzing. Hilda’s face pops up on the screen, so he just lets it ring. It’s late enough that he can say he was sleeping. As soon as the voicemail icon comes up, Martin calls it and taps in his password.

“Martin! Thank you…so much.” Oh lord, is she crying? “I guess I owe you now or something, but I’ll pay you back. Thank you. I guess I’ll talk to you later. Bye.” Sometimes Martin worries that he’s defective, at least emotionally. The thankfulness from Hilda is making him wildly uncomfortable, and he needs some debauchery.

He looks up Ian’s number, freshly entered that night, and sends him a text. “Hey man, you wanna do something tomorrow?”

The response comes moments later: “My house at noon. Bring socks or money.”