[Steven Lyle Jordan]

7: The set-up

My plan might not have been the most concrete one, because it depended way too much on timing. Nevertheless, I couldn’t see much choice in the matter. Martin seemed pretty sure Veronica and her boys would be showing up at his place any moment, looking for him, so it made sense to get him out of there long enough for me to do my work. I had to prepare a new website, spoof some dates, and make it look like it had been around for awhile, to support my story. Then I had to concoct some paperwork. Fortunately, with tools like Photoshop, it was easy to create things like logos, and with apps like Word and Acrobat, it was as easy to create forms and documents. I did it all in an afternoon, aided by the Gods Copy and Paste, knowing that very little of it needed to stand up to detailed scrutiny.

One thing about the web is, everybody uses it to check things out. Another thing is, most people don’t really look too deeply into the websites themselves… they tend to accept whatever they see at face value, if it looks honest enough. Notice I said “honest,” and not “professional.” These days, a lot of amateurs, and pre-professional talents, use the web to post information or drum up business. If a website looks like it was put together by someone who is for real about what they are doing, it does not even need to look professional. Just honest. It can be harder to pull off, but the right touches tend to sell the illusion.

That morning, I told Martin to call Esmeralda, and make the offer of the entire collection. Naturally, she agreed, and Martin looked positively ill when he hung up. In fact, I was beginning to think I wasn’t going to need Gail’s make-up guy after all… he was halfway to what I had in mind, without any help.

At about one, Gail’s makeup guy showed up. Pete let him in, and when he knew the guy wasn’t looking, rolled his eyes in amusement. That’s because the guy looked as stereotypically gay as you can look without a prescription… which, to my mind, was perfect. He came in wearing tight black slacks, a mustard-yellow shirt, a cream scarf tucked into the neck, and a hairdo that looked like it would have left the stylists at Cuts laughing their asses off for hours.

“This is Kyle,” Gail introduced us.

“Pleased to meet you all,” Kyle said, and I thanked my stars and garters he didn’t lisp too much. I mean, selling is one thing, but too much is too much. “Who am I here to work on?” He looked at me, Martin and Pete eagerly. “Can I pick?”

“Him,” Pete and I said and pointed at Martin simultaneously.

“Sure,” Kyle grinned, giving Martin a stronger once-over. “So, what are we going for? Younger look? Euro-trash? Red carpet? Vampire?”

“Vampire?” Martin repeated.

“Oh, it’s all the rage,” Kyle told us. “Everyone wants to look dangerous.”

“We want him to look dead,” Gail said.

Kyle looked at her. “Come again?”

“As in ‘dead man walking’,” I elaborated. “Sick as a dog. Get it?”

“I… think so…”

“Say,” I asked Kyle. “Ever make up yourself?”

“Sure.”

“You could use some work, too.”

“Excuse me?”

“Oh, yeah,” I said. “You look way too healthy yourself. By the way: Can you act?”

Kyle leaned back and extended his arms dramatically, wrists hanging appropriately, and smiled. “My good fellow: Did you think I was born this way?”

“Good man,” I said. “We’ll explain as we go…”

The rest of the day progressed pretty well. As I said, I wasn’t sure about our timing, so we had to have Kyle make Martin up, then explain in detail how to maintain the makeup job and fix it on a moment’s notice. We didn’t know if he’d have to, but it was a possibility… and messing this up would be pretty bad for Martin, so we went the extra mile. Kyle also made himself up, and by the time he was finished, the two of them looked like they’d need each other’s help just to stand up.

Gail had watched all of this with fascination. Early on, she had asked me, “Are you just hoping to out-scare the horror queen?” That was when I explained my full plan to her. When I was done, she nodded. “I like it. If it works.”

“There’s always that catch,” I admitted.

“Still,” she said, “I think we’ve got a good shot at it.”

“I certainly hope so,” I said. “I wouldn’t want a bunch of Ukrainian mobsters after me. Especially after my girl roped me into this mess in the first place.”

Gail responded by slapping my butt and saying, “I have faith in you, lover.”

At that moment, my cellphone rang. “Mr. Schitzeiss? This is Kinkos. Your documents are printed up and ready.”

“Thanks. We’ll pick ‘em up within the half-hour.” I hung up, and looked at everyone. “Ladies and gentlemen, start your engines.”

The four of us headed for the door, leaving Pete to watch us go. “Sure you don’t need me for anything?” he asked.

“No,” I said, “but stay nearby. You never know when things might get weird.”

Pete looked us over. “Too late.”