Maxine's New Life Ch. 13a

I finished my walk then rode the bike home. I had nothing to do until Monday so I drove the cruiser out to buy enough comfort food to last until Monday morning. Then I settled in with it in front of the computer and the TV.

I had been settled in about two hours when the first interruption of my Veg out time came. "Hello," the voice came after I answered my phone." I was reminded by the music that I still hadn't gotten around to fixing it.

""Hello, what can I do for you?" I asked.

"It's Johnathan Hunter, The movers should be there in a few minutes to move Cheryl's things in."

"That's fine," I said. "Will one of you be with them?"

"No, I was hoping you could let them do their job without us." he said.

"Mr. Hunter this might come as a shock to you, but I'm not the door man. I am the owner/manager of the apartments. Once I delivered the keys, it became your responsibility from that point on. You are asking me to be responsible for people I know nothing about."

"You are there, I don't see the problem," he said way too calm. The man had to be on mood altering drugs."

"The problem is I'm getting ready to leave and that means they would be here alone. The other tenants expect security in this building, and this is a breach of it. So, no I will not let your movers in. You need to either meet them here, or reschedule the move for a time you can be here. I'm sorry, but that is the way it has to be."

"Very well, I guess I should have arranged it with you earlier," he admitted still way too calm.

"I guess so." Alright I did enjoy telling him no Still, I would have done the same thing for anyone else. The tenant was responsible for the people they allowed into the common area. That was very clearly stated in the lease agreement. Johnathan Hunter was trying my patience and he wasn't even the tenant.

After that episode things went smoothly the rest of the weekend. I stuck to my routine, otherwise I played absolutely dead until Monday morning.
106 Who is afraid of TV... me

My play dead weekend got interrupted by only one thing, I rented one of the last two units. It went to an EMT, but not EMT Eddie. He never had any intention of doing anything but leading Kate along the path of deception. The EMT who rented it was a young man fresh out of the community college and new to Aster.

His name was Roy Rogers, no relation, he was quick to point out. Roy was more than willing to play along though. He told me, when discussing how he would be moving in, that he and his friends from the base would be moving furniture in his Ford pickup named trigger. I just shook my head and took his check. Part of the appeal of my place for him was the need for only a few pieces of furniture.

I watched Roy and two of his friends as they moved in his full size, but still somehow small bed. then came a dresser which had been painted black and matched nothing. Followed by lots of cardboard boxes, which reminded me of my place. Then finally a truck arrived two hours after everything else had been moved in. The big ass box, which the two large black delivery men carried into the forth apartment read, 'Flat Screen TV'. They also took in a sofa, chair, table and lamps. I decided that he had bought the Combo package, I saw advertised all the time on TV. You know "Buy the room, get the TV." Roy had sprung for the entertainment unit with his new found credit. It was a bit of a mystery how he could rent the apartment in the morning and get it all delivered that same afternoon. Who knows how desperate they were to sell that crap.

I stayed in the game until it was apparent that Roy had finished with the strangers running in and out. When it seemed that things were back to more or less normal. I took a late afternoon nap. I knew that my security awareness had slipped some. I also knew that unless I bought into some really heavy duty crap, I didn't need more security than I had built into the apartments. It was way more than the street thugs and gang bangers would expect. Even the Russians would most likely get swept up in it. The Swamp Thing's black bag guys would laugh at it, but then why would they be coming for me.

All security systems are based on the level of threat. They guard nuclear secrets with more security than the president gets when he travels. It's all about how sophisticated you think the threat will be, that determines the level of security. I didn't think I needed as much protection as either a nuclear warhead or the president. Since that was the case, falling asleep late Saturday afternoon was easy.

Sunday my walk at the mall was pretty much alone. It appeared that most people had a family to spend the morning with. It didn't matter. I walked for the exercise not the camaraderie. When I finished my two miles, I rode the bike back to the apartment. The bike went into the utility room, and I went inside my apartment.

You had to love computers. Even though it was Sunday morning, I was able to cancel my ads for the apartment rental.

By Monday I was not only fully rested, I was pacing the floors. My mind had switched gears yet again. Nothing but trouble could come from my new frame of mind. I knew it, so forewarned should be forearmed. I had breakfast still not sure what decision I would make, but knowing I was about to make yet another change in my life. I wanted to throw my hand up and yell "Why me God". Since god had never answered me, I didn't bother.

Instead I went to the Mall to walk. I was going to be late arriving at Jen's office, but I didn't really care. Let them all get together and have their guns locked and loaded. At least then it would be a fair fight. I was more than ready for them. During the walk I worked out what I wanted to say, even if I didn't have a decision yet. I really did appreciate Irish Martin's heads up.

When I left the mall, the bike ran out of gasoline. In the excitement I had forgotten to fill it up. Since the bike required oil and gasoline to be mixed, I couldn't just push it to the service station. That explains why I had a high impact plastic, pancake style canteen filled with gas strapped into the handlebar basket. It would also make a nice fire if I needed one in a hurry.

The little delay made me a few minute later than I had expected to be. "So how late am I?" I asked the receptionist upon my arrival.

"Twenty minutes by the clock but only five minutes later than one of the others," she said.

"If I knew who all was in the room, I could tell you which one it was." I said smiling. I just walked on back to the conference room. "Sorry guys," I said upon entering. "I had trouble with one of Marty's piece of shit bikes." No, I didn't tell them that I let it run out of gas.

"Come on in we have been waiting," Jen said smiling at me. She wasn't a bit upset. That should have scared the hell out of me. "I think you know almost everyone. Marty of course," he nodded. "Martin from Executive Security ," he gave me a big smile. "Last but not least, Thurman Slope from Real TV Network."

"Ah the cable network which is home to all the crap housewives love to hate," I suggested.

"And damn proud of it," Slope said smiling.

"You are much younger than I expected. Are you head of programing or even farther down?" I asked smiling.

"Head of new product development. I'm the one who decides what crap we put on for the horny housewives."

"Tell me Mr. Slope, does your boss know what kind of snakes he is getting into bed with?" I turned to Marty the bike peddler and Irish Martin, the washed up Mercenary, as I spoke.

"Actually we do. This is one of those symbiotic relationships. We don't come in with the cleanest of hands. As you said we program crap and we know it. They want to produce crap that we get really cheap. In exchange they get the product placement which amounts to an infomercial. Marty's Internet infomercials were a big hit. We would just like to do the same thing on real TV. It would be revolutionary, if it works. Of course you will be a TV star in the process."

"You can't sell me, so save the grease for someone who needs it. This ain't my first ass fuckin' cowboy. I must be stupid as hell to even be here listening. Marty there has lied to me, set me up, and used me shamelessly, but here I am again."

Martin started to speak. He should have sat quietly. "And then there is Swamp Thing, represented by Irish Martin. You knew they had to change their name a half dozen times. Once for each time a country kicked them out. Marty will use you, try to cheat you, and generally double cross you at every turn, but Swamp Thing, they just might kill your ass. Now, did you know all that Slope?"

"This isn't our first dance either Ms. Stone," he said. "We come in with our eyes wide open."

"Then lets talk about this crap show," I suggested.

Marty stood up, since he was the obvious pitchman. "I'm going to be the producer of the same kind of thing we did for the Internet only expand on it. We plan to make one hour TV shows from it."

"Do you have any idea the size of the turd you are biting into?" I asked. "There is no way you can get that much film of me and my sad little life."

"Your life is not all that sad," Slope commented. "But you are right it is a lot of film. I'm interested in hearing the answer to that as well."

"Obviously we need more characters. The beauty of Maxine's life is that she surrounds herself with characters worthy of any romantic tragedy novel ever written." Marty replied.

"And if I don't, you interject them into the plot to spice it up." I said bitterly.

"Okay, I tossed Mosby into the mix. I should not have done that, but I can't undo it." Marty said.

I interrupted by turning to Slope. "I'm gonna give you the advice my dad gave me. When he found out I was dating a married man, he said, 'If that prick will cheat with you, he will cheat on you.' My dad was usually right." I turned to Marty and said, "I should kill you."

"Can we move on please?" Marty said. I just nodded. "So just like before we film you with a lot of small hand held digital cameras. We either get releases, or fuzz the faces. With people who are likely to be major characters, we pay a fee. I'll take care of all that."

"So Jen will be trouble shooting it again," I asked.

"And this time she is going to be a major character in the show. Her life isn't as cool, but she will be a good counter balance for you."

"Did you know about this," I asked.

"I was made an offer this morning and I agreed, but only if you do." Jen said.

"Well they found your price, fifteen minutes of fame," I said it with a laugh. Jen just smiled she knew that it wasn't malicious. "I understand that I am supposed to be an employee, part time at least, of Swamp Thing's domestic army. They get mentioned every episode I suppose, but what are you getting out of it, Marty?" I asked.

"You ride my bike around town all the time. I get free advertising since my people will be producing it." He caught my look at Slope. "They already knew that Maxine, you are not shocking anyone here." Marty said.

"Now for the big question, what do I get." I asked seriously.

"Well aside from the intangibles brought to the table by Executive Security Service, you get paid in several ways. First of all we rent the last apartment from you. We set it up as a TV Studio. If that upsets any of your present tenants, we will pay to move them, or otherwise buy them off. All your tenants will be regulars, so they will be offered contracts as casual actors."

"Everyone gets a flat fee for the release, then a bonus for every minute of screen time we give them. The more interesting they are, the more money they will make. " Marty explained.

"We are covering the actor's fees," Slope admitted. "The two Martin's are paying the production costs."

"You get paid our standard job fee for anything you do for Executive Security," Irish Martin said.

"Plus you get paid for the apartment by me," Marty the pedaler said.

"And we foot the bill for your on air time. The release fee is paid by Marty, so feel free to stick it to him." Slope said.

"You aren't going to make what Angelina Jolie makes, but you won't do too badly," Jen said.

"This is after all low budget, crap TV as you pointed out earlier," Slope said. "That ends my part of the sales pitch. I just wanted to be here to be sure these two gentlemen didn't commit my network to more than we bargained for. As your daddy said, 'If they will do it for you, they will do it to you."

Irish Martin said, "I have a job coming up in less than two weeks. Marty assures me that he can be ready by then." Irish Martin said.

"You know the drill, your apartment gets wired. and hidden cameras everywhere. Hardwire for the apartment this time. We don't want the images pirated onto the internet. It seems there was quite a cottage industry in that, when you were at the cabin."

"My security system has a living room camera already. It stays, I need to know that the house is empty before I come home," I demanded.

"That's okay we can do an interference thing on that camera when you are in the house. Just screw the one camera up." Marty said as if he knew what he was talking about. I did know that the wireless cameras could be jammed, so I figured Mike could work it out.

"What's the signing fee and the on time fees?" I asked.

"Your blanket release fee is set at 25K for 120 days. After that we renegotiate. The on air time is set so you should make between 5 and 8k per show. We are planning a buy of ten shows the first season." Slope commented.

At 50 to 100 k total for six months work it was by far my largest payday ever. The Swamp Thing money would be the bonus. "Okay promise me Mosby isn't part of the mix and show me where I sign," I demanded.

"She is part of the mix," Marty said.

"Then the deal is off," I said standing to leave. I knew they had a lot of time and therefore money in the project. If it came to Mosby or me, I expected it to be Mosby out the door."

"Be reasonable Maxine. Mosby is a professional actress. She knows how to guide the amateurs to say and do the right thing."

"She is still a ringer and not part of my life. So I won't play with her sorry," I said.

"Okay she won't interact with you in anyway at any time. We will figure out something she can do without being part of your life circle." Marty said it angrily. He was screwing her, I could tell.

"I'm going to have a lot more to say about who does what in this little soap opera, than I did before." I said it as a warning.

"So now you are a diva?" Marty asked maliciously.

"I prefer to say I'm not letting you screw me over again. If you want to play this time you pay big boy." I said smiling. Then the meeting was just over before it sank even lower.

107

The meeting ended with Marty's promise that Mike would be calling me to arrange the camera work. I presumed that Mike would also be occupying the last of my apartments. Jen worked out an arrangement so that the rent payment and the release fee went directly to my bank account. I trusted her to take care of those kinds of details.

Since all my tenants had moved into their apartments, activity around Casa Del Aster was minimal at best. I could have returned home and just slept all day, but I chose not to do so. What I did choose to do, was to go looking for Helen's food truck.

The purpose of the search was to introduce Lois to Helen's food, and to see if any sparks flew between them. I figured Helen needed help and Lois was going to be bored pretty soon, so maybe it would be a match made in Maxine's heaven. Alas, it was not to be love at first sight.

Lois loved the food, but we caught Helen in a bit of a lunch rush. She was slinging brown bags as fast as she could. At the rate she was going she would be out of food pretty quickly, but I could tell Lois wasn't interested in hanging around to meet the owner. Since no one knew that I was playing matchmaker, it was a no harm, no foul kind of thing. I didn't write it off completely, but I did move it to a back burner.

When Lois was tucked safely back into her apartment just after noon, I switched the cruiser for the bike and my Eskimo look. I really just wanted to get out of the apartment. I had been playing dead so long I was getting cabin fever. The bike was the perfect cure for it. I had finding Helen a spot in mind as I rode all over the downtown.

Helen had explained to me a couple of months before, that she and Jack had to invest in a commercial kitchen. Partly it was because they needed to produce a lot of food in a short amount of time, but mostly it was the county health department. She had just gotten too big to work from her home kitchen without some serious renovations. The food truck business had been so good to them, that they chose to renovate Jacks house to convert the home kitchen to meet commercial standards rather than invest in a restaurant.

Helen's corner of the food industry was catering and she loved it. I was probably the only one pushing for an indoor location. I wanted to sit down to breakfast like I did at Hardee's but I wanted Helen's food. In other words, I wanted what I wanted, and when I wanted it. Typical female you say, and I ask, "So what? We control half the worlds resources, and we control all the world's pussy, I think you guys better learn to live with our little idiosyncrasies.

The bike ride proved futile. There just didn't seem to be the perfect spot for Helen's Place, as I already begun to think of it. I tried to stay busy. I took the cruiser out to a flea market looking for a chest of drawers. I knew that I didn't need to do my shopping at the flea market, but I enjoyed it. Unfortunately I couldn't find a thing.

On the way home I passed a salvage store, so just for the hell of it I stopped. He had three matching very old wooden filing cabinets from a business that went belly up when the owner finally died. I saw no reason why they wouldn't work for clothes. The drawers would be a bit deep, but what the heck. I bought all three for 50 bucks. It's a lot more than I want to pay, I thought. Then again, I knw that it could be a lot worse.

Getting them into the cruiser was a trick but the salesman and I managed. Getting the file cabinets from the cruiser, and then to the apartment took some doing as well. Even without help I managed it.

I suppose the desire to finish furnishing my place came from watching everyone else work on their apartments. By far the person with the newest and nicest furniture over all was Cheryl. Her furniture all came from one store and their delivery people set it up. Johnathan Hunter wasn't messing around when it came to his mistress, if that was indeed the relationship. Only time would tell unless someone asked, and I had no intention of being the someone. As long as they didn't cause me any trouble, I just didn't care.

Speak of the devil, I thought as I looked out my spy hole in the door. "Why hello Cheryl, what can I do for you?" I asked.

"I was wondering could lower the heat in my apartment just a little?" she asked.

"Tell you what I can give it a try. If it gets too cool let me know and we will try another setting. I start everyone one out at full heating, but I can lower it quite a bit. We should do it a little at a time. though. You can always open a window, if it gets too warm. If it gets too chilly over all, we will be back resetting the heat over and over. All that said, lets see what I can do."

She followed me out the rear door and into the utility room. She stood by while I cut the flow of hot water to her radiators by 10%. "Now that should make a difference." I said.

"So you are the one with the motorbike? I hear it every mornings lately?" she informed me.

"Guilty as charged," I replied.

"I bet that is fun," She looked whimsical as she said it.