The Human Canvas, Part 1: Mother Earth

There’s a spring in his step and a smirk on his face as Martin heads to the elevator. Tommy follows closely, and they ride up to Tess and Landon’s studio space.

Martin knocks lightly on the door. The Countess must be busy giving bloody birth to her art, because Landon opens the door sheepishly and ushers the two men into the apartment without a word. Tess is standing in the middle of the open floor space. Surprisingly, she is not as lavishly adorned as she normally is, wearing only a black t-shirt and long white skirt, both of which are speckled with many colors. Just past her, Martin spies an obese woman lying flat on her back with her arms draped out over the edge of the bench she’s on. Disappointment begins to creep up on him until he notices a cute blonde girl in a bathrobe waiting off to Tess’s left. There’s hope yet!

“I heard you gentlemen caused a bit of a stir at Herb’s club last night,” whispers Landon.

Martin winces and says, “Was he pissed? I totally get him calling the cops, but I hope he’s not mad at me.”

“All in all, I wouldn’t say he’s pissed. If anything, I think he was a bit frightened by all of the blood that was left once they took you all away. Herb doesn’t have the strongest constitution, I’m afraid, but he’s a good man.” Martin suddenly thinks back to the rumors that Herb bedded Landon, but it’s just not possible. It can’t be true.

“Ian’s a bit of a wildcard, man. I only invited him to meet some girls we met at the bar, but he arrived mid-fight with a knife. I don’t think he’s usually a very violent person.”

“Right, but he just did what any friend does when he sees someone he knows about to get his ass kicked,” Tommy suggests. Martin concedes ceremonially to show Tommy that he did a good thing by destroying Max Enberg’s body.

“Tom’s right, Marty. Plus, it’s not the first fight the Hole’s ever seen, nor will it be the last. It’s a night club. People go there to get drunk and let emotions run high, whether it’s joy, anger, sexual arousal...you get the picture. If any of those get misaligned, there’s bound to be some squabbling.” Goddamn Landon Freeman and his voice of reason. Just listen to this guy, talking like he’s spent a year doing research on the social impact of late-night gathering spots.

“Cool,” says Martin. “I just really don’t want him to ban me or something.” Landon waves the concern off as if it’s nothing, and so suddenly it is nothing.

“Y’know, Marty, I’m a little surprised Tom managed to get you to come over. I thought you hated Tess.” Is Martin blushing? He thinks he might be, but he doesn’t like showing embarrassment.

“Me? Hate someone?” Landon smiles with half his heart. The other half is waiting for Martin’s explanation. “I don’t hate her, okay? She just makes me really uncomfortable for too many reasons.”

“Such as?”

Ugh. Martin was hoping he wouldn’t have to explain himself, but dishonesty doesn’t seem to have much of a purpose at this point. “At the club, for example. She was being far, far too open about your...private life, if you get what I’m saying.” A tilt of the head and a knowing raise of the eyebrows tells Martin that Landon shares some of Martin’s distaste for Tess’s disclosures. “Plus, I don’t know. This may seem like a weird thing to complain about, but it pains me to see how Tess dominates this place,” Martin says, waving his arm in front of him. Landon looks around the studio. “Why do you let her take control of this place?” Landon only laughs.

“Martin, I don’t live here most of the time. I have my own place in the hills. This is my legal residence for the moment, but it’s largely Tess’s apartment. That’s why I try to keep my things stuffed away.” Ah, of course Landon Freeman has his own place, full of masculinity and world record plaques and Landon’s musky manscent.

“Ohhh, that makes sense. But, so, you see? I don’t really hate her. She’s just not really my favorite person. The only reason I was mad the other day was because I wanted to talk to you privately.”

“What about?” asks Landon.

“Ha, silly. This isn’t exactly private, is it?” Martin says, leaning his head toward Tommy. Tommy looks back from the overweight model on the bench.

“What?” Tommy asks. Martin and Landon chuckle at their own little joke.

“My dear, I think I’m finished with you for the day,” Tess says suddenly to the current model. “Something’s just not clicking for me. I can’t explain it, but thank you for holding that pose. It was just what I wanted.” The model smiles shyly at Tess before donning her own robe and taking her handbag into the bathroom.

Tess lets down her hair as she walks over to the sitting area. She runs her fingers through her hair, massaging her scalp with her eyes closed. Martin wonders if she’s trying to conjure up some talent.

“Hello, Martin,” she says, gathering her hair back up and tying it loosely at the top of her head. “And Tommy, hello. I was surprised to hear that they released you so quickly.”

Martin smiles as he recalls Ian’s strange gestures. “Me too. I guess Ian has magic powers.” He revolves his hands around each other in front of his face as he says this, though no one could possibly get the reference.

“That’s good to hear. I was a bit worried when Herb called the police, but I think it was fully justified.”

“Yeah,” Martin says, though at this point he’s already sick of talking about it. Tommy told him on the way over that Tess invited Martin to her apartment to look at the models and remain close to her. She claimed that she needed an “art day” -- stupid -- and wanted Martin to uphold his end of the observation deal. “So I don’t mean to be an ungrateful guest, but what do you really expect me to do while I’m here? I’m interested in seeing the other model pose for you, y’know, but otherwise I’m just hanging out with Landon and Tommy.”

“C’mon, that’s not so bad,” Landon suggests, but Martin isn’t having it.

Tess sighs. “I suppose you could give me some input on what I’ve done so far, but it’s really disappointing.” Martin remembers seeing a blob of yellow on blue, but that’s the biggest impression one can expect from several feet away. He gets up and walks over to the canvas while Landon strikes up a conversation with Tommy.

The image laid out on the canvas is unexpectedly spectacular and eerie and beautiful. The yellow blob he thought he had seen was in fact a yellow human figure, laid out much as the model had been, but with a filigree of golden floral pinstriping tracing out the lines of her body and exploding into the shifting blue-green of the surrounding space. Martin immediately gets the impression of a woman’s seed giving birth to the world, and despite it not making perfect sense, he’s moved.

“This is really good, Tess. I mean, in some ways it’s so simple, but it’s gorgeously done.” He leans in to look at the stripes. They’re so precise and smooth. Martin can’t imagine his hand placing anything so delicately. Martin is struck by how quickly his opinion of the Countess has changed.

“You think so? I was honestly considering just wiping it clean and starting over, but I didn’t want to keep her too long.”

“God, no. You can do more to it if you want, but it looks good to my untrained, barbaric eye.”

“Hmm.” Tess grabs the canvas and sets it down by the base of the easel. “Well, when it’s dry you can have it, a gift from me to you.”

Martin’s not sure where he’ll put it, but he’s nonetheless appreciative. “Thanks. So what do you plan to do with your next model? Same thing?”

“No no, Martin. It depends on the model,” Tess says, turning to the girl. “Marilena, could you come here for a moment.” The girl perks up at her name and puts down the book she was reading. She saunters coolly over to Martin and Tess.

“You can just call me Mary, Miss Carter,” says Mary, her words only just hinting at an accent. Now that Martin can get a good look at her, he likes what he sees. Her eyes are a deep blue, their shape both familiar and exotic, and he can’t help but notice the hint of a tattoo where her neck slopes into her shoulder. Martin can’t tell how long her hair is since it’s pinned up, but he’s hoping it’s short.

“Marilena?” Martin asks. “What kind of name is that, Italian?”

She smiles at him. “It can be, but not in this case.” Martin pauses, expecting a continuation, but she leaves him wanting. “Would you like me to pose now, Miss Carter?”

“First I’ll need to see your body.” At first Martin wants to laugh, but then he realizes she’s saying it as a matter of business. The demand is suddenly arousing.

“Of course,” Mary says happily, and she slips the robe off right there in front of Martin. When she begins to turn slowly for Tess’s inspection, Martin just about loses his grip with reality. She’s smooth, slender, fair of complexion, and her arms are covered in bright yet tasteful tattoos of all different varieties. A large black and gray arrangement of dragons, flames, and words in a foreign language takes up the entirety of her back down to her tailbone. “Will I do, Miss Carter?”

Tess looks unsure, but she nods. “You can try out whatever pose you like, and we’ll go from there. I’m not really sure what I’m looking for at this point.”

“Okay,” Mary chimes, and she walks lightly to the bench in front of Tess’s easel.

Martin’s attention returns awkwardly to the situation at hand as Tess addresses him directly.

“Sorry, what?” he replies.

“Are you okay?”

“Yeah, I just...” Martin just now realizes how long he’s been staring at Mary’s body. “I fuckin’ love tattoos.”