Spies

“Like...how about this? ‘I have this fear that one day I’ll meet a truly paranoid person who is technologically illiterate. What’s gonna happen when I tell them that the screens on computers are called “monitors?” I don’t think anyone wants to be around for that.’” Martin smiles.

“Okay, that’s pretty good. Not a lot of punch to it, but you have plenty of time to let that shit stew. So come on, who was that girl?” Martin has been pestering Tommy constantly since the party, meaning Tommy has had to suffer through a whole day of Martin calling him a coward.

“Or this one, I guess.” Tommy lines up his finger on the correct line of the notepad. With Ray out of town for a day or so, Martin figured Tommy could hang out there around the clock in preparation for a show at some point in the near future. “‘On a wall near my apartment, there’s a section that’s a mishmash of graffiti and flyers. One day I noticed that two local bands had put up flyers for shows on the same night at different places. Seemed harmless, but the next day I saw that one of the bands had printed about thirty more flyers and covered up everything else on the wall. Kind of a dick move, but hey, they’re proud of their music, right? The following day, the other band has done the same thing, but their flyers are the brightest, most obnoxious neon yellow I have ever seen while not on acid. So I bought a ream of paper, grabbed a permanent marker, and made my own sign out of paper that covered the whole segment of the wall. It said, “PLEASE STOP SHOUTING! I CAN’T SEE WHERE I’M GOING.”’”

“Seems a bit long, for one,” Martin suggests, “but also...did that really happen?” He gives a look to Tommy meant to pry out the truth, but his apprentice offers it freely.

“No. I just came up with it.”

Martin crinkles his nose. “You’re gross.”

“What? Comedians make up stories all the time.”

“But the whole thing? Was any of that true?”

“There’s a wall near my house,” Tommy says, but his tail is between his legs.

“Okay, well I wouldn’t suggest ending with that one; that’s all.” Martin looks around the dimness of his place at dusk. It’s not very clean, but it’s not dirty. Clutter. It’s cluttered, and Martin is starting to hate it. “You wanna get some weed?”

First Tommy looks at his notepad with what seems to be a mild case of despair and fear, but as his brain chugs along, he snaps out of it. Tommy shrugs. “Yeah, why not?”

“Exactly.” Martin calls Ian to arrange for a purchase. Tommy heads outside for some reason, but when Martin exits the building, Tommy’s just sitting in his car.

“You all ready to go?” he asks as Martin gets into the car.

“Why would I get into the car if I’m not ready?”

“Just asking,” Tommy says, backing the car into the street.

“I don’t know what the rush is. The whole reason we’re making this trip is to chill the fuck out. You especially. You need to calm down. Your first show isn’t a big deal, man. Go ahead and be nervous all you want, and go ahead and screw up a few times and bomb some jokes. You just need to get it out of your system, then next time you’ll know what to expect. It’s as easy as that.” Tommy just nods along as he drives. Has he really listened? Martin can’t be sure.

When Tommy pulls up to Ian’s place, Martin can already spot Tess standing uncomfortably near the door. “Damn, she’s like a bloodhound,” Martin says.

“Seems like you kind of owe her anyway since you didn’t leave the house yesterday.”

“Oh shut it.” Martin climbs out of the car and walks glumly up to the Countess. “I thought you were going to try to stay out of my business. Just observe, y’know?”

Tess looks stunned. “You didn’t complain about it for the first few days.” Tommy steps up behind Martin.

“You were better at it back then. I call my friend for a weed hook-up, and you’re already waiting here? At the door?”

“If I may be honest, I was a bit afraid to knock after what happened at the club.”

“He was just being protective,” says Tommy.

“Exactly!” Martin agrees loudly, then he knocks on the door. “Ian is harmless. Hell, just ask Francisco. He’s fine.”

When the door swings open, an arm appears from inside, extended and holding a large pistol. Tommy jumps back. Tess recoils in fear, slumping against the house.

“Hey Ian,” greets Martin. “What’s up with the gun?”

Ian hesitates before holstering the gun. “I’ve been having these hallucinations about a skunk...an elephant, I don’t know. Animals freak me out.” Martin nods sympathetically. Tess is only just barely standing up.

“I understand. So.” Martin rubs his hands together. “Do you have the goods?”

The wiry blond stoner disappears from the doorway and is suddenly replaced by an enormous bag of marijuana, although not quite as large as one Martin once saw Ian bring into the house. “Wow,” Tommy whispers.

“Jesus, man. That’s way more than I asked for.” Martin looks around for potential witnesses, but this part of town is pretty empty. “I’m not paying for that much.”

“Oh whatever,” Ian grumbles. He shoves the bag at Tommy and holds out a hand to Martin expectantly. “My scale’s broken. So sue me. Yeesh.” This is the first time in a while that Martin has been surprised by a side of Ian’s personality.

Martin shakes his head and hands the money he prepared over to Ian.

“Wait a minute,” Tess interrupts. “Don’t you owe your sister money? And you’re buying drugs?”

Martin holds his hands up and squints at everybody in turn. “I knew something was up. How the hell did you know that?”

“I...” It’s obvious that she’s caught up in some web of lies, but Martin doesn’t know where it starts, where it ends, or who exactly the spider is.

“I told her,” Tommy says. Martin whirls around.

“And why are you telling her about my problems? Did you tell her to meet us here?” Martin glares at Tommy. He can’t seem to find his words either. “Why are you working for her? Is she paying you?”

“Martin,” Tess starts, but he holds up a hand to silence her.

“I just want everything out in the open,” Martin says calmly.

“I saw Gay Martin’s testicles once,” Ian mutters from the doorway.

“Ian, go inside!” Martin yells, and Ian complies reluctantly.

“There’s nothing to explain, Martin,” Tommy begins. “She needed ways to track you, so I said I’d help. I think you’re blowing this out of proportion.”

“But I thought she was doing fine on her own. When did she start getting info from you?” Martin worries about where this interrogation might lead, but he doesn’t like unexpected information about the people close to him.

“From the beginning.” Martin maintains eye contact with Tommy, hoping to see a tell if the man’s lying.

“I asked him to get close to you,” Tess adds. “I wanted someone near you so I could keep a closer eye on you and get more information.”

“Wait.” A horrible realization is dawning on Martin. “Tommy, tell me the truth: do you want to be a comedian?”

Tommy’s jaw drops, and then so does Martin’s.

“What about Mary?” He stares at Tess with a calamitous mix of anger and hope.

“I just, I didn’t know how you’d be with a woman.” So that is Tess’s excuse for being a horrible person. Martin’s blood is boiling.

“I want you to both just go to hell,” he says as he storms away. “And I hope they extend eternity a couple million years just for people like you!”

Tommy: fake. Mary: fake. Martin wants so badly just to punch someone in the face over and over again, but the most he can get himself to do to expend more energy is walk a bit faster. As it is, it takes him two hours to walk home -- including a stop at the liquor store -- and he’s still furious when he gets back.

Martin sets down his packs of beer on the table. Ray is home, apparently, and he comes to the kitchen to greet Martin. “Uh, hey,” he says.

“Hi,” Martin says hastily as he rummages through their utensil drawer for the can and bottle opener. The first sip after he wrestles a cap off is a relief.

Ray laughs. “Are we drinking tonight?” He opens the fridge and grabs one of his non-alcoholic beers. Martin looks at Ray, then down at Ray’s beer, which he slaps out of Ray’s hand onto the floor, splitting the bottle open and spilling beer all over the floor. “What the hell was that for?”

In no mood to play, Martin grabs one of his beers and plants it in Ray’s open palm. “You’re drinking for real tonight.”

Ray looks wide-eyed at the alcoholic beer in his hand. “Alright, if you thin--”

“Dude, just shut up and drink.” Martin carries the bottle opener and some of his beer into the living room, where he claims one half of the couch as his own and turns on the television.

“Is, uh, is everything alright?” Ray asks as he sits down.

Martin continues to stare at the screen. “Yup.” He takes another sip of his beer.

The Human Canvas, Part 3 Epilogue: The Sultans of Swing

The police are yelling at Martin, telling him to get out of bed. He’s going away for a long time, something about child abuse. Tess is angry about what he did, but all she does is paint her feelings, something blue and orange that doesn’t make sense to him.

“Martin?” He takes a sharp breath as he wakes up. He’s relieved to be back in reality. Mary is sitting on the edge of the bed in short shorts and a tank top. “Bad dream?”

He closes his eyes and rolls over toward her, then says into a pillow, “The worst.”

“Maybe breakfast will make you feel better,” she suggests as she rubs his back.

“Okay,” he says, still muffled. There is the smell of something delicious and comforting wafting down the hall. Mary leaves him prone on the bed while she alerts her other guests about the impending meal by knocking on their doors.

Martin manages to get himself out of bed a minute later and gather the bare minimum of his clothing from the floor before walking out into the hall. Tess exits one of the bedrooms sleepily, and, upon seeing Martin, closes the door behind her and hurries past him.

“Good morning,” she says.

“Hey,” Martin says, following her with his head as she zips by. Strange.

A moment later, Jebediah exits the same room. Martin leans his head back, jaw dropped, and points at Jebediah. He only smiles back at Martin before pushing past him. Can it be true? The Countess and Jeb the Mute?

Another door opens behind him, and out of it comes Landon Freeman, laughing at something or someone in the room. Landon turns to see Martin, still wearing his look of surprise.

“Hey,” says Landon as Herb exits the room after him.

Martins jaw drops back down as he points back and forth between them. All of the rumors, the speculation, the naming of Herb Rollins as a “gay Casanova”; suddenly there’s very little air of mystery about it all. Martin wants to speak, but it only comes out as a whisper. “It’s true.”

The Human Canvas, Part 3: The Party

Tommy notices that Martin is grinning and fidgeting like a man possessed when he picks Martin up on the way to Mary’s party.

“Tommy, do you have any idea who she is?” Martin asks, knowing quite well already that he’ll get to explain what he means.

“No? You mean Mary?”

“Yes Mary! I tried typing in her name, ‘Marilena’, just kind of guessing at the spelling, and there was only one name that popped up: Marilena Trombitas. Fuckin’ Mary Trumpets!” Martin says. Tommy keeps his eyes on the road, but he furrows his brow.

“I don’t know who the fuck you’re talking about.”

“Okay, her name isn’t ‘Mary Trumpets’, but that’s what ‘Trombitas’ means. So like, have you ever heard of The Watcher & the Leviathan?”

That manages to ring a bell. “That’s a movie that’s coming out soon, right? The one with the dragons and zombies or something. I’ve only seen the commercials for it.”

“Well, I...I mean sure, yes. It’s based on the book with the same name, written by one Marilena Trombitas. That must have been what the tattoo on her back was for.” Martin thinks back to the large black and gray picture of dragons with what must have been the original Romanian of the title. He’s also thinking about her body and how it’s only nineteen years old.

“Oh, no shit. I was wondering how she had a friggin’ house in the hills. I thought maybe she lived with rich parents.”

Martin’s excited. “This could be a hell of a party, y’know. Oh shit.” He just now remembers that it’s a birthday party. “Shit, should we have gotten her a present?”

“What?” Tommy takes a moment to look at Martin, filling his need to make sure that the comedian’s being serious. “We just met her. I think she’ll forgive us if we don’t bring her a gift. I really don’t think everyone is going to get her something. I mean, do you think Landon and Tess have a present for her?”

Now that Martin thinks about it, it doesn’t seem likely. To Tess, Mary can’t be much more than sort of, kind of an employee. “I don’t know. I just realized, though, why does she do modeling if she has all this book and movie money at this point? You would think she’d spend her time writing the next bestselling novel.”

“I hadn’t even thought about that. I don’t think it takes all of your time to write a book, though. Maybe she models because it’s fun. She’s certainly got the body for it.” For a moment Martin wants to stretch over and bite Tommy’s arm, growling and tearing at him for thinking that he can edge in on Martin’s mentally claimed nubile territory.

“I agree,” he says instead.

The house Tommy eventually pulls up to is gated, two stories, and a beautiful example of the modern usage of glass to really open up the first floor. Plenty of cars are in the driveway, so Martin’s question of whether or not this would be an intimate affair is answered quickly. Several large flagstone platforms make up the steps to the front door.

At first, both of the men are wondering why the house is so dimly lit. The walkway is dark, and the house barely glows at the end. When they get to front door, it becomes clear that the real party is out back by the pool. A horde of strange teenagers in all manner of dress are crowded around Mary’s pool, and the doors are open at the front and back of the house to channel new guests toward the old ones.

As Martin and Tommy pass through the house, a familiar voice calls to them from off to the left. Off in the western wing of the house, Landon and Tess are chatting with Herb and an unfamiliar man with a very round head. Upon getting closer, Martin realizes that this new man plus Herb, Landon, and Tommy are all of a similar height, that is to say several inches taller. He’s never felt so short. Assholes.

“Tommy, Martin,” Landon begins, “you guys know Herb and Tess.”

“Hi,” Martin says.

“Hey,” says Tommy.

“And this is my friend Jebediah,” Herb introduces the unfamiliar man. “He’s visiting for a bit just to see the big city.” Jebediah is carrying a small memo pad and a pen in his left hand, and Martin notices it while shaking the other.

“What’s that for?” he asks. “Are you a reporter or something?” Jeb laughs and looks to Herb.

“Ah, no. Jebediah is mute, actually,” he clarifies. “He carries the pad around for communication.”

Martin is genuinely surprised. “Huh.” He turns to Tess. “Where’s the birthday girl?”

“Out by the pool, I believe.”

“Ah, then excuse me while I go give her my regards.” Martin leaves Tommy with the rest of the familiar faces and ventures off in search of Mary. On the way he spies a table with punch and snacks, and realizing he’s famished, he grabs a cup of the sugary drink and a few finger sandwiches.

“Enjoying the spread?” Martin turns around with a sandwich pressed halfway into his mouth to see Mary in a shimmering silvery white dress with her hands on her hips. He decides against pulling the sandwich back out of his mouth and takes a large bite. Then he nods. “I’m happy you came,” she says, and Mary proceeds to give him a hug made awkward by the food and drink in his hands. “I wasn’t sure if you and Tom would come on such short notice.”

Martin just manages to finish chewing and swallow. “Hell, it’s not like we’ve got anything better to do. If it weren’t for this we’d probably be stabbing people at night clubs.”

Mary laughs. “Tess told me you were a comedian. I guess that makes sense.”

“Yeah, well the Internet told me that you’re friggin’ Marilena Trombitas. I had no idea until I got home earlier.” Mary shrugs. “I never realized you were so young.”

“Does it matter?” she asks coyly. Her accent creeps back in at the end of the question, but Martin’s comforted to know that it is most assuredly Romanian.

“Matter? Depends on the context. It’s really just impressive. Pretty accomplished for not even being twenty.” Martin can only wish he’d followed a career path with more opportunity to get lucky and become famous. As it is, he’s only really known around the city, and even that might be a bit generous.

“Well, storytelling is my passion. You don’t have to go to college or be a genius to create a good story,” she says.

“So,” Martin says, “you’re dumb?”

“No!” she insists, “I am not dumb. I am just uneducated. There is a difference, Mr. Avery.”

“Ha.” Martin smiles. “Thank you for enlightening me, then. You’ve made me a better person.”

“Mmm, and if you ever feel like returning the favor, perhaps you can teach me a thing or two.” A young blonde Romanian girl writes a bestselling novel that gets turned into a highly anticipated movie, makes millions of dollars, inks up her body, and then she giggles after delivering innuendo to a shaggy-haired, unshaven comedian who Martin suspects just might be him if he thought about it a bit more. Yup. This is happening.

Martin takes a deep breath and focuses on not showing the surprise on his face. “Sure, you just let me know what I can help you with.”

“I will, I will. Come, let’s go see what Tess and her friends are up to.” As Mary walks past Martin, back toward the house, he sees that the back of her dress is non-existent from the waist up. He grabs another sandwich and follows closely behind her.

Back inside the house, the group Martin left has largely dispersed. He spies Tommy sitting on a couch with a dark-haired girl who looks to be not much older than Mary. She seems fascinated by something Tommy’s saying, and he’s looking very confident. Interesting. Landon is off entertaining Herb and some other party guests with one of his stories, so Tess is left to slowly communicate with Jebediah. From the look on Tess’s face, Jebediah has just written down something especially funny.

“You found her! Very good,” Tess condescends. Martin scowls at her.

“He is an astute navigator, that Martin,” Mary says. There seems to be some subtext in the exchange that Martin can’t quite tune into. “Is everything alright in here? Are you sure you guys don’t want any snacks?”

“No, that’s fine. Landon and I ate dinner before we came.” At the mention of food, Martin takes a bite of one of his sandwiches.

“Oh, good! I’m going to go say hello to Tom. Excuse me,” Mary says, and she begins walking to the couch.

“Who’s he talking to?” Martin asks.

“I’m not sure. Half the people around here seem like babies to me, and we’re hardly older than they are. Tom may want to get a look at her identification before he tries anything unsavory,” Tess suggests.

“Yikes.” Martin looks around at the sea of jailbait. He hadn’t considered how many of them might be underaged. Thank goodness for nineteen-year-olds. Martin looks at Mary playing the chipper hostess with Tom and his new lady friend.

“And don’t try anything with Mary.” Martin’s heart sinks.

“What are you talking about?” He realizes now that he’s still staring at her, so he looks back to Tess. Smooth.

“I know she’s beautiful, Martin, but she’s young, she’s new to the country, and she’s vulnerable. I have doubts about your ability to handle that with the proper delicacy.”

“What? How do you know she needs someone delicate? I get the feeling that she can handle herself pretty well.” Martin remembers that Jebediah is standing there as well. “What do you think?”

Jebediah quickly scribbles something out on his pad and holds it up facing Martin. “Dude, go for it.” Martin laughs maniacally.

“See? Jeb knows what I’m talking about.” He raises his hand for a high five. When Jebediah hesitates by only slightly raising his hand, Martin winds up and connects with it, causing a pronounced slap to fill the area. Jebediah winces.

Tess shakes her head at him, but Jebediah only shrugs.

As the night wears on, much of the younger crowd filters out. Tommy remains firmly planted on his couch cushion. At some point he and the dark-haired girl started making out in front of everyone, much to Martin’s disgust. Granted, they were not in the center of the room under a spotlight, but somehow even Martin found it disrespectful. All he’s managed to do is get a few of the kids interested in seeing him do a show, even though he’s not a big fan of networking. The flirting with Mary has continued, sure, but it has yet to be fruitful. Tess and company apparently decided to go to bed, which Martin didn’t even realize was an option. He’s confused as to why they didn’t just drive home.

As Mary sees people out the door, Martin leans against a wall far away from Tommy, but with line of sight maintained so he can stare at him with hatred in his eyes. When the last few guests have left, Mary joins him in his lean, though not until after she’s looked with confusion at the spectacle taking place on her couch.

“Did the others go to bed?” she asks him.

“Yeah, I guess.” Martin looks to the bedroom doors down the hallway. “I’m not sure why they didn’t just go home.”

“Probably didn’t want to drink and drive.” When Mary sees that he’s confused, she says, “I saw them sneaking pours from a flask into their punch.”

Martin’s face suddenly loses all expression. “Are you shitting me? Son of a bitch. I figured I could live through a dry party if the hostess is underaged, and those assholes are sneaking in booze.” He growls.

“Aw, so you didn’t have a good time tonight?” The disappointment is so playful that Martin almost doesn’t want to play along.

“Sure, I had a good time. It just seems like Tommy got to have a slightly better time. Makes me look at myself, y’know?” Mary looks on sympathetically. “Have I made some wrong decisions in my life? Maybe I should have staked out the couch as my personal bone zone.”

“You know, there are other couches,” she says, reaching her hand in front of Martin and placing it on his crotch. Martin jumps away from the wall reflexively, his brain flooded with doubt. Mary pushes away from the wall. “What?”

“I...” He thinks back to what Tess said, and it keeps ringing in his ears, especially the word “vulnerable”. As much as he was hoping to ignore Tess’s warning, “vulnerable” is on a deeply engrained list of words in Martin’s head that indicate a partial retreat is in order. “I just don’t know if this is right. Honestly, I’m not sure what you see in me right now. We just met.”

“That’s okay. There’s plenty of time for us to get to know each other.” Oh god. Martin’s defenses are weakening.

“I’m sorry, Mary, really. You’re gorgeous, okay, but we should go about this with all the caution we can afford, right? No need to rush things. I think I ought to get going.” Martin turns on his heel to leave, and he’s met with the sight of an empty couch. Tommy was his ride. Hmm.

“Martin, you can just spend the night here. It’s fine! You don’t need to worry so much.” Rather than desperate, Mary is sounding resolute, determined. Logical.

“And where am I gonna sleep, your bed?” Martin says, laughing it off.

“Sure, you can sleep in my bed,” Mary says. “After we’re done fucking.”

She presents her hand for Martin to take, but his heart is beating too loudly for him to see properly. Mary finally gives up on waiting for him, takes his hand in hers, and leads him off to her bedroom.