This choice: Talk to the guy -- this is what you wanted • Go Back...Chapter #8The Understudy by: Seuzz   You rear back with a thumping heart and almost brain yourself on the roof of your cab. The guy at the window just keeps grinning at you.
What's his name? Mickey? Mark? Marcos?
Oh yeah! Mike!
"Hey," you call back, and swallow hard. Stop panicking! you tell yourself, though you're not sure why you are.
Mike makes a motion like he wants you to roll down the window, so you twist the key in the ignition and punch the window button.
"What are doing here?" he asks. "Thought you were going to see a movie."
You stare back at him. When the hell did you ever talk to this guy? You weren't going to the movies. In fact, you were going to stay as far away from the theater as possible, because Keith was—
You sphincter loosens so suddenly you actually fart.
"Oh. Yeah," you stammer. "Uh, changed my mind, gonna go catch something later."
"Then you should come out to the studio," Mike says. He holds up a paper bag with the Carl's Jr. logo on it. "I got us some shit to eat."
* * * * *
It's a terrifying suggestion: Go along with some of Keith's friends while disguised as Keith.
Because that's the situation you've woken up in. You may be dressed in Will Prescott's clothes, but when you glance at the rearview mirror, you see Keith Tilley's face.
He thinks I'm Tilley. Because I look just like Tilley. I am Keith Tilley's doppelganger.
And that makes the offer too tempting to pass up.
Because the whole reason you put on the mask was so you could wander around in public with Keith's face, doing random shit while gleefully reminding yourself, "All these people think I'm Keith."
Anyway, what's the worst that could happen? It's not like these guys can suddenly accuse you of being a fake, of being an imposter who's only disguised as Keith.
"Yeah, that sounds awesome," you reply, and for a moment you feel a stab like cold steel into your guts. What if you're out of character already, and Mike starts to wonder about you?
"So where's your car? Who you hangin' out with here?"
"Uh, my friend Will," you gasp. "You know Will?"
Mike shakes his head. Fuck you too, you think. "Yeah, he's inside, we stopped to get something. I mean, he wanted something. Me, I'm just chilling." You shrug stiffly, and start to shake all over. This pretense is going to be harder than you thought.
"So bring him along," Mike says. "I gotta get back now, I'll see you there." He turns to go.
"Uh, hey, wait!" You hop halfway out of the cab. "Can't work it that way," you stammer, "because, uh, Will wanted to go do something else at the, uh— But I'll go tell him I wanna bail. It was gonna be kinda lame anyway." You jerk your shoulders. "Will's kind of lame, actually." Internally, you kick yourself, then watch Mike closely to see how he reacts.
He doesn't, except to ask if you need a ride. "Okay, go tell your friend you're coming with me," he says when you nod. "But don't take forever, okay?" He saunters off toward a compact car in the corner of the lot.
You rub your palms on your jeans, then lean into the cab to retrieve your keys before hurrying into the restaurant.
Why did you have to try on the mask in public, in a fucking parking lot of all places? Why didn't you go someplace private? These are the questions you ask yourself as you duck into the men's room. You need to think things through more carefully next time.
If there is a next time.
You're tempted to go tell Mike that your friend is being a big baby and that you'll have to go off with him instead. But after splashing a little water on your face, you raise up and catch sight of yourself in the mirror.
Keith Tilley looks back at you.
Jesus, you've never been this close to his scabby face.
It's pocked over here and there with things like crusted-over zits, and spotty blemishes like malformed freckles. His beetle brows are dark and thick. You push aside a ragged spot in one and find a deep scar. Your dark, bristly hair looks like it was cut with an electric razor by a blind man. Your lips are chapped, and your eyes are flat and dull.
You can hardly believe that you're friends with a guy who looks in such need of a good scrubbing. Or (as Seth Javits would have it) a good beating. In truth, when you get this close, you kind of understand Javits's attitude.
But though Keith has always struck you as being kind of dumb, you don't remember ever feeling this skeezed out by him. What is the deal? Is this what everyone sees when they look at Keith? And if so, why did you never see it before?
You straighten up and blink and regard yourself with a grimace -- an expression that makes Keith look even uglier. Oddly, though, it makes you like the face better.
Then, in a flash, you get an idea: Maybe it's a kind of "uncanny valley" effect. The problem appears to be with your eyes. Though they look like Keith's eyes, they seem dead. They can never quite get the eyes right in a CG movie when they're trying to make a human being. Is that going to be a problem with the mask? It's like a CG-generated illusion, and it can't get the eyes right?
Your brow crinkles, and that movement catches your eye, drawing you out of the thoughtful reverie.
You catch sight of yourself again, and now there's more life in your eyes.
Oh, Jesus! Is that the problem? Is the problem you and not the mask?
"Be like Keith," you murmur to yourself, and a little sneer distends your lip at what a gross thought that is. (But maybe Keith would think the same thing if forced to "Be like Will.") "Be like Keith," you repeat. How hard can it be to be a dumbass? Be like Keith. You've hung out with him enough you should be able to do a passable imitation.
You settle back on your heels and lift your chin like Keith does when he's trying to be cool. He's got this weird "chin chucking" thing he does when people get sarcastic with him. "T'sup," you ask yourself. "Yo. Wha. T'sup?" (Keith sometimes has delusions that he's ghetto.) What did he say to you the other day, when the subject of Javits's girlfriend, Cindy Vredenburg, came up? "Damn straight I'd fuck her. Scrape her out clean. Put one of them 'Man at Work' signs on her chest and -- "
Eesh. Too exaggerated. "Just relax," you tell yourself, and you shut your eyes, take a deep breath, and let the tension drain from you.
When you open them again, it's the closest approach yet you've made to capturing his look. Confident. Swaggering.
Punchably stupid.
It'll have to do. You chuck your chin at yourself, and saunter out the door.
* * * * *
"So what're we doin' today?" You shove your hand into the burger bag for a fistful of fries. Grabbing other people's food is one Tilley's most annoying habits, but Mike says nothing about it, maybe because he's concentrating on driving.
"Watching a movie, probably," he says. "So I guess you're not getting out of it."
"Whatever. Oh hey, when're you gonna let me do a video?"
"I thought that's how come you were going to the cineplex this afternoon. So you'd have something to do for us."
"So maybe I could do something about this one instead. Or, I dunno, maybe I'mma go see something tonight. Like I give a fuck, you know."
That draws you a mildly reproving glance, but Mike says nothing.
You almost say something when he abruptly turns into the parking lot of a rental storage complex, but you hold your tongue. Then, after he's punched in a code that opens the gate to the units, you decide you've waited too long to ask what the fuck he's doing. So you don't.
You glance back at the sign as he drives in. "Top Self Storage" it says. And there's a caret and an "h" inserted between "S" and "e" in "Self" so that it's been corrected to say "Top Shelf Storage." The fuck?
Mike parks in front of a unit and gets out with the food. You follow. Should you be querying this? Keith is a stupidly nosey motherfucker, and it would be out of character for him not to ask why you're at a fucking storage complex. But Mike is acting like this is normal, so you decide to hold back.
He punches a code into a key pad, and opens the door. You follow him into a lobby that is refreshingly cool -- air conditioned. Mike strides down a long corridor lined on both sides with sliding metal doors. Hm. So these units have their entrances on the inside of the building instead of the outside.
Halfway down are two doors that are raised. Mike steps into the first. "Yo, food!" he announces.
You try to keep your eyes from popping out.
Okay, it's not the most astonishing sight. But the unit contains a weight bench and barbells and long foot locker. Mike's friend Carlos, in shorts and t-shirt and sneakers, is lying on the bench and doing butterfly curls with a couple of very heavy weights. He drops them and sits up. "About fucking time," he grumbles. He starts a little at the sight of you. "Hey, I didn't know you were coming. T'sup?"
"Didn't know myself. T'sup yourself?"
There's a little small talk, the gist of which you barely follow, between Mike and Carlos, then they lead you into another bay with an even bigger surprise: the studio set that you recognize from the YouTube video. You keep your reactions mute, and only grunt and mumble in a friendly kind of way when some rolling chairs get pushed out, a big-screen TV is turned on, and a DVD is slid into a player.
And that is how you wind up watching the dumbest movie you've ever seen.   indicates the next chapter needs to be written. |
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