I've been writing again.
Martin had had quite enough.
He was tired of the flirting, of the constant dancing around, the avoidance and the vying for time spent together, the hiding, the plotting, the confusion and the pulling of pigtails (both figurative and literal) and every single time they came close, so close and then backed away like a couple of nervous teenagers. He was tired of being the shoulder damp from getting cried on in the middle of the night when he needed sleep or the shoulder bruised from the manly thump of awkward confidence. It had been going on long enough, and he wanted it to stop before he got torn apart by a couple of idiots who didn’t know what to do.
And Martin subscribed to the theory that if one wanted something done right, one must do it themselves. And so he did.
It was 7:45, and Scott was heading out the door for work. “Scott,” Martin said, tapping on the doorframe for attention and waving when Scott looked back around, bleary-eyed due to the fact that it was before noon and he was out of bed, horror of horrors. “Shopping.” He tossed a wadded up ball of paper that bounced off Scott’s forehead. “I need everything on that list for dinner tonight. Don’t forget or I’ll hang you by your toes from the back bumper and drag you back to the store, okay?”
Scott muttered, rubbed his forehead, stooped to pick up the paper and growled in what Martin could only assume was assent before shuffling out the door. Stage one: complete.
It was noon and Kelly was still in bed because she was working the night shift; Martin opened her door a crack to find her still bunched up under the covers without sign of stirring. He closed the door and went to the kitchen for the phone.
“Carson & Wainwright Business Associates, 28th and Maple branch, how may I direct you?”
“Hi, I think I need the personnel branch? I have to talk to whoever is in charge of the security division, or something.”
“One moment.”
—matter with your mind baby, find it, come on and find it. Hail with it baby, ‘cause you’re fine and you’re mine and you look so divine. Come and get your love, come and get your—
“Hello?”
“Hi. I’m calling in to say that Kelly Thomas can’t work today.”
“And who are you?”
“I’m her roommate.”
“I see. What seems to be the issue?”
“Family emergency.”
“And what is the nature of this ‘family emergency’?”
“Her grandmother just died. She’s distraught. The funeral’s in two days and she has to go down to
“I see. You’re aware that her file says that Kelly Thomas has only one living relative, that being a father who lives in
Martin tapped his fingers on the counter. “She doesn’t like to mention her other family. They were estranged for a long time and have only come back into contact recently, which makes the death of her grandmother even more tragic and heartbreaking, so if you could just sign her off…”
“What did you say your name was, son?”
“Martin. Martin Marquette.”
“Right. Mr. Marquette, I’m Dean Cassidy, head of security, and I don’t believe a word coming out of your mouth. I also don’t believe Miss Thomas put you up to this, seeing as how she comes in every day right on time and with the best attitude of any of my employees and I haven’t had a complaint or a bit of trouble out of her yet. So, Mr. Marquette, are you going to tell me what’s really going on or should I hang up right now?”
Martin tapped his fingers some more and glanced at the wall clock for no particular reason. He cleared his throat quietly. “Mr. Cassidy, have you ever happened to overhear Kelly talking with any of the other employees about someone called Scott Kendall? Scotty? Something like that?”
“Once in a while. Her boyfriend?”
“She wishes, and that’s the problem. Scott is our other roommate. They’ve been flirting for over a year now, and I’m getting very tired of it. I’m the go-between, you see? The one they come to for advice, and no matter how many times I say ‘just tell him how you feel, just ask her out, just go for it’ they won’t listen to me. For over a year, Mr. Cassidy. All I want to do is read and spend time with my cat, who is not insane and does not pine desperately for the lady cats and complain about it to me when I’m busy. I would like to live my life, and I would like them to live theirs. Also, I want to see them happy. I love them, Mr. Cassidy, and I’m tired of seeing them be miserable because they can’t work up the guts to admit their feelings to each other. Mr. Cassidy, you seem like a straightforward sort of man; I think you understand my desire to take matters into my own hands. Tonight, I’m going to make dinner for Scott and Kelly and force them to spend some time together alone, and in order for that to happen, I need Kelly to be home, meaning that she can’t be at work. One night, Mr. Cassidy. That’s all I ask for. And I will get it, even if I have to go to that damn building and fit my 6’4”, 260 pound self into Kelly’s size six uniform and guard the place myself.”
There was a moment of contemplative silence.
“One night. I want her back tomorrow.”
“Thank you.”
“Mr. Marquette?”
“Yes, Mr. Cassidy?”
“Either stay at home or bring your own uniform. No one needs that kind of mental image.”
“Yes, sir.”
Stage two: complete.
It was 4:00 and Kelly was waking up to get ready for work. Martin stood in front of the restroom door and waited for her to stop trying to stare him down.
“Martiiiin, I need to shower,” she finally whined, making giant brown Bambi eyes at him.
“Yes, you do,” Martin deadpanned, and moved to one side. “But you’re not going to work today.”
Kelly put her head on one side and looked up at him, smoothing a tuft of fluffed-out hair with her palm. “I’m not?”
“Your boss called and said you have the day off.” He handed her a towel, because there weren’t any left on the rack and he knew that if not now, he would be handing her one around the door in fifteen minutes.
Kelly accepted the towel with tentative confusion. “Mr. Cassidy…is giving me the day off.”
“It would seem so. Don’t make any plans; we’re having steak tonight. Scott’s been using your shampoo again, but he put the cap back on so it didn’t pour down the drain. Don’t yell at him. And get some clothes before you go in instead of walking through the house in a towel, yeah? I’m going out to return some books.”
He left Kelly standing in her bunny slippers in front of the bathroom door, looking at the towel in her hands as if its blue and yellow stripes could answer all her questions. Stage three: complete.
It was six o’ clock and Scott was coming home from work, slamming the door behind him and scrubbing his hands through his hair to muss it up appropriately now that the outside world couldn’t see it. “Yo,” he said into the kitchen, and hefted some grocery bags onto the counter. “I brought food. What’s all this for?”
“Oh good, you’re home,” Martin said, pulling food out of bags and setting everything out on the counter for inspection. “Now go take a shower and put some nicer clothes on, will you?”
Scott stared at Martin blankly for a moment, blinked once, and attempted to discreetly sniff his armpit. He sighed. “How nice? What’s going on?”
“Uh,” Martin said, pulling a pan out of a cupboard and giving Scott a sideways glance, “I’d say…the blue and white stripy button-down with the collar and your good jeans, not the ones with holes, and the new sneakers. Put your hair right again.”
Scott, who knew better than to argue, shrugged and shuffled toward the bathroom. “Whatever. You want I should put on the cologne you got me for my birthday that I haven’t touched because it smells like skunk, or…”
“No,” Martin said thoughtfully. “No, the kind Kelly got you for Christmas. And put some shoes on.”
With another shrug, Scott departed. Martin ripped open the package of steak as Kelly came around the door from the living room. “Did Scotty just come in?” she asked, heading for the other door, but Martin caught her elbow.
“Yeah, he’s headed for the shower. Would you do me a favor and take the movies back?”
“Why didn’t you take them when you went to the library?” she asked, and prodded a bag of something vegetable-like.
“Forgot. Shoo.” He swished a hand at her, and then stopped. “Wait…what are you wearing?”
She looked down at herself in confusion. “T-shirt and shorts…why?”
Martin grimaced. “Don’t you still have that outfit you wore to the one party?”
“The summer dress with the belt? The periwinkle one?”
Martin stared. “Does that mean pale blue?”
“Bluish purple…”
“Then yeah. Go put that on. And then take the movies back.”
Kelly glowered and rolled her eyes, but then she went and put the dress on and went to take the movies back.
Stage four: complete. Martin made dinner. He confined Scott to his room on the grounds that there would be beatings if he made a bother of himself during cooking time and did the same to Kelly when she got back, and there was no room for argument when Martin insisted on things, so they complied with bafflement and slight irritation.
It was 6:45 and dinner was ready. Martin spent two minutes considering whether it would be too tacky to put some candles out, decided it would be, and did it anyway. He turned the lights down, turned them up again, then down…he drew on everything he knew about romance and decided that halfway down would be fine. Then he got the bottle of wine out of the cupboard, convincing himself that the autumnal equinox and the preservation of his sanity was a special enough occasion. He stared at the table, felt like a failure, decided that was okay, and went to get the prisoners out of their rooms.
“So are you going to explain to me what the hell is going on?” Scott said irritably as Martin forcibly shoved him into the dining room. “Do I get an all-expenses paid trip to
Scott’s mouth stopped moving and hung open in surprise and possibly alarm. The lights were dimmed, there were candles, there was food…and Kelly was sitting at the other end of the table in that dress he once told her she looked “radiant” in because that was such a good word, looking at him with mild confusion and something he was tempted to identify as hope, and Martin had one hand on his shoulder and was attempting to gently reintroduce Scott’s feet to the concept of walking. Oh no. Oh, no. He turned around so fast he almost fell over, grabbed a handful of Martin’s shirt, and glared with 100-watt intensity. “Explain before I run away. I will run away. I swear to god, Martin—”
“She’s in there waiting for you,” Martin said under his breath, prying Scott’s fingers out of his sweater and smiling a very small, slightly evil smile. “I put all this together just for you. Go in there or I might have to punch you out and prop you up in the chair like a dummy. Do it for Kelly.”
Scott looked up into Martin’s unforgiving pewter eyes, made a sound very close to a whimper, and turned back around. He flashed a grin that tried for winning and didn’t much fall short and went over to the table and sat down, and Kelly smiled.
“Hi,” she said softly.
Scott cleared his throat and tried not to grin again. “Hi.”
“So, um…”
“I…uh…”
“How was your day?”
“Fine.”
There was a pause.
“Kelly…”
“Yeah?”
“You look beautiful.”
Kelly’s eyes went wide. She tried to do three things with her hands at once and settled on putting her napkin in her lap and then picking up her fork. Scott cleared his throat three times in succession while smoothing his own napkin out with unnecessary force.
“Thanks,” Kelly replied, and Scott stopped. He cleared his throat again. He picked his fork up, and then put it down.
“You’re welcome.”
Martin slipped out of the room. Stage five: complete.
He went and finished his book.