Performance
I: Baltimore, Maryland: a hospital,
immediately after "Line One"
Fuck I hate sitting here. I
knew we'd likely end up here - the hospital, that is - after his match
with Seamus, but shit, why'd it have to be on this night; there was
this great production in town at the theatre and tonight was its final
engagement, but instead I'm here looking at this bastard laying in some
bed being accompanied to by the ugliest nurses imaginable.
I check my Rolex which I recently purchased with Robert's Diner's Club card. Nearly 11:30 pm. Fuck, he couldn't have lost that much blood, could he?
I look back up and see him laying there, several stitches in his skull, hooked up to oxygen and receiving a blood transfusion. Why didn't he cover up more? Why didn't he just bring a crowbar to the ring and take him out immediately, or shit, prior to the match. Could have hired some thugs to take out the fat bastard once and for all so he'd have to forfeit the match.
At least Seamus is done for, once and for all. My Robert got the job done, as he said he would. He could have done better though, and he'll have to owe it to me for keeping me here so fucking long.
I look back down at my watch. 11:32.
It's a nice watch. Should have gotten the $36 000 version instead, milk this loser for all he's worth.
I hear some murmuring from him. "Myy love."
SIGH.
I walk over to him and hold his hand and feign a smile. "Don't worry babe you'll be out of here in no time." I lean down and kiss his cheek, when I hear my pager beep, since cell phones weren't allowed in the ER.
"I have to get the phone, give me a few okay?" I blow a kiss at him and let go of his hand. He falls back quietly and closes his eyes as my stiletto heels echo through the room. I exit the ER into the cold night air, and light a cigarette - something I've picked up lately - and check my pager.
It was from Helius Andrös. He was in Wessex, and I knew why. About damn time too. It was about three months ago when I originally contacted him to do a "portrait" of myself and my husband. I wasn't happy that he couldn't commit to this job until now, but I know my patience will pay handsome dividends.
It was about 4 am over there in Wessex, but I couldn't care less, I'll call the staff at the Estate so that they'll let him in to pursue his business. The German idiot kept all sorts of eclectic hours, and for this job I have for him, it's well worth disturbing the fuckers Robert keeps employed at my home.
I reach for my cell and call the Estate. A sleepy voice answers; it's Lili, the head maid. James the head of household must be sleeping.
"Lili, it's Her Grace."
"Yes, yes Your Grace, good evening to you."
"And good morning to you - you're not sleeping are you? You know you're supposed to be on midnight duty, you better not be napping or I'll have you fired."
"No, no no no, your Grace, I am aware of my duties, I assure you I am hard at work," she timidly said in her English accent.
That's a girl, she better not be lying or I'll smack the taste out of her mouth once I get back.
"Okay listen to me. Helius Andrös is finally in town and is near the Estate. He's going to come in with his group of assistants to pick up the Rembrandt, the Picasso and the Raphael, to have them restored as per Mr. Lancaster's wishes. See to it that he gets all three paintings out of the house in safe condition, understand?"
"Yes your Grace, I understand. May I do anything else for you?"
"No, that is it, good night."
I hang up and immediately return Helius Andrös' call.
"Helius, it's Marissah. You know what you're going to get and do right? Yes, those three paintings, I want them reproduced identically, I don't care how long it takes or how much money it costs, he's paying as we've discussed. I'll have the money deposited to your Grand Cayman account once I've seen the results. Thanks babe, you're the best."
I close my flip phone and grin, ear to ear. I take a long drag on the cigarette and just imagine how many fucking millions I'm going to make someday off those paintings. Too bad he won't have a clue that three of his precious family paintings have been replaced by worthless reproductions.
I feel worse for Eddy though, having such an ignorant fucker for a father. But his loss is my gain.
The light catches off my diamond wedding ring.
Another great idea. I remove it from my finger and toss it in my purse. I know a great little jeweller in Amsterdam who'll pay a few hundred thousand dollars for the diamond, and my own bank account needs a desperate transfusion of cash, as much as that asshole needs blood.
Checking my watch again, I see it's about 11:40. I curse under my breath and finish off my smoke. Time to go back in I guess, and tell him, if the bastard can even hear me, that I've lost my wedding ring and desperately need another one.
Shit marriage is hard.
I check my Rolex which I recently purchased with Robert's Diner's Club card. Nearly 11:30 pm. Fuck, he couldn't have lost that much blood, could he?
I look back up and see him laying there, several stitches in his skull, hooked up to oxygen and receiving a blood transfusion. Why didn't he cover up more? Why didn't he just bring a crowbar to the ring and take him out immediately, or shit, prior to the match. Could have hired some thugs to take out the fat bastard once and for all so he'd have to forfeit the match.
At least Seamus is done for, once and for all. My Robert got the job done, as he said he would. He could have done better though, and he'll have to owe it to me for keeping me here so fucking long.
I look back down at my watch. 11:32.
It's a nice watch. Should have gotten the $36 000 version instead, milk this loser for all he's worth.
I hear some murmuring from him. "Myy love."
SIGH.
I walk over to him and hold his hand and feign a smile. "Don't worry babe you'll be out of here in no time." I lean down and kiss his cheek, when I hear my pager beep, since cell phones weren't allowed in the ER.
"I have to get the phone, give me a few okay?" I blow a kiss at him and let go of his hand. He falls back quietly and closes his eyes as my stiletto heels echo through the room. I exit the ER into the cold night air, and light a cigarette - something I've picked up lately - and check my pager.
It was from Helius Andrös. He was in Wessex, and I knew why. About damn time too. It was about three months ago when I originally contacted him to do a "portrait" of myself and my husband. I wasn't happy that he couldn't commit to this job until now, but I know my patience will pay handsome dividends.
It was about 4 am over there in Wessex, but I couldn't care less, I'll call the staff at the Estate so that they'll let him in to pursue his business. The German idiot kept all sorts of eclectic hours, and for this job I have for him, it's well worth disturbing the fuckers Robert keeps employed at my home.
I reach for my cell and call the Estate. A sleepy voice answers; it's Lili, the head maid. James the head of household must be sleeping.
"Lili, it's Her Grace."
"Yes, yes Your Grace, good evening to you."
"And good morning to you - you're not sleeping are you? You know you're supposed to be on midnight duty, you better not be napping or I'll have you fired."
"No, no no no, your Grace, I am aware of my duties, I assure you I am hard at work," she timidly said in her English accent.
That's a girl, she better not be lying or I'll smack the taste out of her mouth once I get back.
"Okay listen to me. Helius Andrös is finally in town and is near the Estate. He's going to come in with his group of assistants to pick up the Rembrandt, the Picasso and the Raphael, to have them restored as per Mr. Lancaster's wishes. See to it that he gets all three paintings out of the house in safe condition, understand?"
"Yes your Grace, I understand. May I do anything else for you?"
"No, that is it, good night."
I hang up and immediately return Helius Andrös' call.
"Helius, it's Marissah. You know what you're going to get and do right? Yes, those three paintings, I want them reproduced identically, I don't care how long it takes or how much money it costs, he's paying as we've discussed. I'll have the money deposited to your Grand Cayman account once I've seen the results. Thanks babe, you're the best."
I close my flip phone and grin, ear to ear. I take a long drag on the cigarette and just imagine how many fucking millions I'm going to make someday off those paintings. Too bad he won't have a clue that three of his precious family paintings have been replaced by worthless reproductions.
I feel worse for Eddy though, having such an ignorant fucker for a father. But his loss is my gain.
The light catches off my diamond wedding ring.
Another great idea. I remove it from my finger and toss it in my purse. I know a great little jeweller in Amsterdam who'll pay a few hundred thousand dollars for the diamond, and my own bank account needs a desperate transfusion of cash, as much as that asshole needs blood.
Checking my watch again, I see it's about 11:40. I curse under my breath and finish off my smoke. Time to go back in I guess, and tell him, if the bastard can even hear me, that I've lost my wedding ring and desperately need another one.
Shit marriage is hard.