The Promise of Things to Come

As Martin sits on the curb, awaiting the inevitable revelation of his hidden truth, he realizes that it’s day three of Tess’s observation. Somehow, though, she managed to avoid being part of the incident at Herb’s club, and now she’s nowhere to be seen. It’s at once pleasant and mildly disconcerting.

“Hey Ian,” Martin says. Ian sits down next to Martin.

“Sup?”

“How is it possible for Francisco to just drop the charges on you? Isn’t stabbing someone a crime?” At the time of release, Martin had been too pleased, and perhaps slightly concussed, so he didn’t bother to question it.

“Maybe for some people, people without connections,” Ian says, pantomiming what looks like the sprinkling of fairy dust, but Martin can’t be sure. Ian follows it up with a wink.

“Connections? Do you know a bunch of cops or something?”

“No, but I have my...ways,” as Ian begins to make a strange waving gesture, Martin reaches out and gently pushes Ian’s hand back down.

The overall mood of the trio -- Francisco having walked off as soon as he was free to go -- is “decent but tired”. Martin gets the feeling that all of them could use a good nap. In fact, he’s struggling not to nap as he notices Hilda’s car approaching the curb. He looks up at Tommy, and the big oaf is screwing up his face in a lack of certainty.

“Is that the car-“

“Tommy, you shut the hell up right now. Don’t mention the fucking car. Just don’t do it. I will murder you.”

“But is it the same one?” Tommy asks.

Martin tries his best to channel all of the fury he can summon into a death stare, but he undoubtedly looks more worried than anything else. Tommy shakes his head at him, and Martin hopes that that is a deal between the two of them.

“Shotgun,” Ian mutters as he climbs into the passenger seat. He tousles his own hair a bit before crossing his arms snugly and slumps against the window. Martin and Tommy get into the back, and Hilda pulls away from the curb.

“Thaaaanks, Hilda,” says Martin.

“Yeah, thank you for the ride,” Tommy adds.

“Oh, not a problem, boys.” Hilda looks at Ian with concern, but as far as Martin can tell, she’s quick to remember that Ian has no shortage of peculiarities. Martin pictures Ian waving again and shakes his head in an attempt to clear the image. “Are we just heading to the Hole?”

“Yeah, I think the necessary vehicles are all there.”

“I walked,” Ian interjects without lifting his head. Martin glares at him for the unnecessary addition.

“So you guys got into a fight, huh?” Martin doesn’t really want Hilda probing too deeply into the situation, but it was somewhat exciting.

“Have you ever heard of the band Maximus Shmaximus?” Martin asks.

“No?”

“Well, they suck. As people. Except Francisco. Max sucks.”

“I don’t think you really gave him much of a chance,” says Tommy.

“I didn’t need to! I’m a good judge of people, dude. When that ginger bitch stepped up to me, I knew he was an asshole.”

“Not to mention taller than you. Next time maybe pick a fight with someone you could actually beat. Like a five-year-old.”

Martin laughs. “I don’t need to fight five-year-olds when I’ve got Tommy the Paralyzer by my side.” He pats Tommy on the shoulder.

“Jesus Christ, Martin. Don’t say that.” Tommy begins to slouch and leans his head toward the window.

“The Paralyzer?” Hilda needs some clarification. Martin had forgotten to mention that part on the phone.

“Oh yeah. Tommy threw Max across the room. Broke his arm and maybe his back.”

“Oh my god. And what about the stabbing?” Hilda asks.

“Well, Ian stabbed Francisco a bunch of times, but he was really cool about it. He’s kind of a badass.” Hilda looks at Martin through the rearview mirror, eyes wide.

“Sounds like you guys had quite the night.”

“No shit. All I want to do now is take a shower and go to bed.” He assumes roughly the same position as Tommy and Ian, but by the time he gets comfortable they’re back at the club. Martin yawns as he gets into his car. Tess apparently went home after the confrontation, or at least someone stole her car. His thoughts flash back to taking Hilda’s car for the repo guys, but it’s too depressing. As he starts his car, he sighs.

He wakes up later in the day to the sound of his cell ringing. His face is still tender, a marker that reminds him to never fuck with Francisco Panza again.

“Hello?” Martin can hear that his voice is drenched with the paralysis of sleep, but screw it.

“Hey man,” Tommy says. “You up for a little midday entertainment?”

“I-wh-I’m barely awake, dude. What do you want?” Martin cannot believe that Tommy is already up and about after nine hours.

“Naked women?”

“Okay. Continue.”

“Tess is painting nude models today, and she said we’re welcome to stop by during the day to hang out with her and Landon.” This sounds promising.

“But wait, I have a few questions. Just women? Do I have to see any penises today? Is Herb going to be there? Do I have to paint anything?”

“Uh, let’s see. As far as I know, not that I know of, maybe, and probably not?” Martin nods approvingly to himself.

“That’s a good list of answers.”

“I thought so, yeah. I can pick you up if you want.”

“Ah, you’re a gentleman, Tommy. I need to get dressed and...whatever anyway. See you in a little bit.”

Martin continues to nod to himself. Despite last night’s shenanigans, this day is starting out on exactly the right foot.