Quicksilver

Nate had more song ideas; his 'ukelele rang with tunes. One blue-eyed soul song would need a rousing line of chorus girls to give it weight. Signe said she, Rolf, and Dolph could fake that while Feeny sang lead. "But dancing girls... hmm, I bet Rolf and Dolph's ladies might be interested."

"I know another tool you'll need," she said, "a Nagra portable tape deck — we'll pay for that, too — and a soundproof closet so you can record demos for us. Only for us. Can we sign you as a staff songwriter?"

I answered before Nate could. "Your lawyers should submit a proposal to our corporate manager to retain Nate's composer services on an exclusive or limited basis. So yes, you can sign him; can't she, 'Unca Natey'? Don't say anything; just nod so we can hear your brain rattle around inside that thick skull."

Nate set his 'uke down and leaned back in the easy chair, resting his head on a pillow there. Figgy jumped in his lap and purred.

"I hereby nod vicariously. I know; you women will run my life. I'm doomed, aren't I?"

"Yes, you're doomed," I said, "but I'm the only one who gets to suck your cock."

Nate and Figgy twitched. Signe and I cackled. I foresaw a beautiful friendship.

"Do you have a music agent yet?" she asked. Nate and I shook our heads NO. "I can hook you up with ours. She's been honest so far. And with Nate being almost a Demon, she'll keep her commission low, I guarantee it. She's married to my cousin."

I handed her a freshly-printed business card.

"Have her call our team. Let them work it out, subject to my, I mean our, approval."

Grouchy arrived with a packet stuffed with documentaion. Signe bid goodbye; they left. Nate leafed through the service manuals.

"Good thing this stuff is USA-made," he said. "I can read the print without a magnifier."

"If you really think you'll need those Tektronix tools and yes, I agree about a portable tape deck, then I can have Jeremy order them for delivery."

"I won't need the 'scope and analyzer right away but a little Nagra SN deck would be handy at any time. I can record in the backyard till I set-up my music studio, and it's small so we can travel with it. A bigger Ampex two-track deck for my studio would be convenient. Let me write down the sources and parts numbers, and Jeremy can get on them. The house sale will close next week, right? We can start moving then. We might want to hire some help for schlepping stuff."

Good thing he had not landed on his head Sunday; his brain still worked. Too bad the rest of him was sub-par. I would give him great blowjobs as soon as he could tolerate orgasms.

But first, more business. I called Argo and told him I would be available at the rented studio the next two afternoons. He called back an hour later and said I was on for three basic sittings Wednesday and one long, lucrative session with Wilona 'Legs' Smithers on Thursday. He said she had reluctantly agreed to my conditions but she still wanted a painting with 'her rescuer' and yes, they would both be clothed then.

"Send her on," I told him. "We'll be ready. By the way, have you seen anything on sales of the Maxwell's Demon records and covers? Their leader was just here and says they're hot."

"Their agent called," Argo said. "She wants us to supply quality prints and mass-produced posters they can sell; says her phone has been ringing off-the-hook with demand just in the Bay Area. And she wants Nate included in some group pictures. Will you paint a big version? I can arrange a consultation with a no-bullshit printer I've worked with. He'll come to your place if you want. Maybe Friday? Get things moving along."

"Sure, we'll be decent late Friday morning. You should know that we will be packing over the weekend; we'll probably move next week. I gave you the new address. Pacific Bell said they'll let me keep my phone numbers. I'll plug in my phone gadgets first thing."

=====

After lunch, I painted and Nate studied the manuals and drew schematics. I took a break and looked over his shoulder.

"For American electronics designers, these guys sure did an amateur job." The printed maze he pointed at was gibberish to me. "This bias setup was obsolete ten years ago, the logic circuits are just as primitive, and component tolerances suck. I'm amazed they don't just produce noise."

"Do you think you can improve on them easily? I mean, quickly?"

"Better than that. I can work-in some generic circuits and a few tricks, specify better components, and have whole new gizmos that do what these are supposed to. I'll need the band's devices and my 'scope and analyzer to be sure, but I think I can design an improved product line. And building prototypes will be a snap; I'll buy devices at a surplus dealer, gut those, and cram my redesigns inside. Are our corporate checks printed yet? Well, no rush. We'll move into the new house first."

I believed him. I resumed painting. And after dinner he received the best blowjob imaginable.

===== Wednesday-Thursday, week 13 =====

Nate said he could care for himself but he didn't want his scabs to come off, with him bleeding in the gym's pool, so I went alone to work out and swim in the mornings.

The Wednesday afternoon sittings were easy, with only a financial woman and her talkative parrot, a smooth East Bay politician, and a flamboyant opera star. All remained clothed.

Wilona 'Legs' Smithers taxied to the studio early Thursday afternoon with a small clothes carrier. Her miniskirt certainly displayed her infamous calves and thighs, as good as any bike courier's.

"We finished the Mendocino shoots and I'm doing some short locations around Monterey this week so now is a perfect time. Oh Nate, I'm so sorry you're hurt! You're hurt whenever we're together, aren't you? I'd better leave you alone. But I want you in the first picture. Lydia, can you paint out the wheelchair and his scratches?"

"Easily done," I said, "and we have all afternoon."

"Allan pissed and moaned but he agreed to let me have today off. So yes, there's no rush. Oh, I want you to know I never did any of what the media reported. That sure shocked me."

Nate and I kept straight faces, knowing full well of Umberto's maneuvering.

Nate stood beside Wilona, her head leaning against his flannel-shirted shoulder, long enough for me to sketch their outlines. He sat aside in the wheelchair, his face and front good references for me, while I finished that painting. I painted a half-dozen sheets of her in various states of undress with varied scraps of cloth. She was totally nude for two, her legs flexed, and in the last she sat naked in a plastic chair and spread her pussy lips.

"I didn't really want those sex shots," she said, "my agent did. This one's for her."

I saw that Nate had not turned his eyes away. I made a quick sketch to keep and embellish. I would paint my own pussy and he could compare. I am a generous gal, right?

She noticed the camera on its tripod.

"Oooh, large format!" Not really, but it was close. "And a roll film back. Do you have film in that? Tell you what, shoot a roll of me in my poses, and paint a set of miniatures. I get the negatives, that's not negotiable. How much extra for those?"

I pulled out an ancillary-services agreement. She signed it, and a fat check. She posed provocatively for the lens, and for our own eyes. Yes, she was certainly the more-than-pretty glamor girl!

"Give me a few minutes in the darkroom to develop and dry the film, then make contact prints I can paint from. They'll be stabilized, not fixed; they'll survive just long enough for my reference."

I closed the darkroom door and flicked on the safelight. I developed the negatives and gently used an electric hair dryer on them. Then I set them in a small rig and copied them onto a new roll of film. Just for insurance, you understand, heh heh. I exposed two copies of contact prints and ran the paper through the stabilization processor. I hair-dried those and opened the blackroom door.

No, Wilona was not fellating Nate, but she looked like she wanted to. I handed her one copy of the prints — "These will blacken before long and can't stand Xeroxing." — and her negatives, secured between sheets of soft tissue paper. I called a taxi for her and that was that.

"She's been plasticized, you know," I told Nate. "A surgical artifact."

"I noticed. You look much better. That song about the arty lady at the Broadway party? The chorus is, 'Wrap her up, she's the natural girl for me'. That's you. For me."

I wanted to hug him but that would have hurt so I locked the door and blew him. I loved his flavor. The rest of his qualities, too.

I trundled him into the car — he was in no shape to walk this far — and drove us home for a decent dinner with decent wine for relaxation.

We spent the evening working, me painting, him diagramming, until yawning set in. I coaxed him into bed and blew him again. He insisted his neck and head did not hurt so I sat on his face and enjoyed his tongue tantalizing me and his hands stroking my skin and pinching my nipples.

But he was still too sore to cuddle, so he spent another night on the sofa with Figgy.

===== Friday, week 13 =====

Fred the print-shop proprietor was here early; we talked for most of an hour and decided on which size, medium, and paints would reproduce best for quality serigraphs. My original would be all of 4x6 feet but with details that would scale down to a quarter of that and remain visible even in mass-market prints. The serigraphs would be 2x3 feet, a good poster size.

I drove the Beetle to a different, closer art supply shop for my needs and started painting right away. I would work on Wilona's 'miniatures' as time permitted. I finished that big painting, my largest yet, by late afternoon. Fred sent a minion to collect it so as not to delay production to meet demand. Argo would handle sales from here on.

===== Saturday, week 13 =====

We were guests of honor at the Audi dealership for Zed Engle's 'blastoff' event in Santa Clara. It was much less raucous than the pandemonium at Kingsley's showroom in San Francisco. Security tamped-down any incipient frenzy so we spent the day smiling a lot and acting polite. Still, I would direct Argo that we be shown mercy after future car-paintings and skip any personal appearance sideshows.

I chose a red Audi Fox to drive home. I had just enough strength to stop at Luigi's for an easy dinner. We got home, showered, and spent the evening on the sofa with a mindless opera on the TV, accompanied by wine and a few puffs of hashish, followed by more wonderful oral sex. Nate was able to stay in bed overnight as long as I did not squeeze him.

===== Sunday, week 13 =====

We were in no way religious but the First Unitarian Fellowship announced a Bach pipe organ and pedal harpsichord concert as the morning service. Nate was comfortable enough in the Citroën, and in the fieldstone building's better seats. The music rocked and reverberated.

We lunched at Leon's BBQ, then went home to pack non-essentials. We sure hoped the house sale would close tomorrow; we could be moved-in before the end of the week.

Figgy seemed unnerved by the changes around him, poor baby. He snuggled in bed with us. I squeezed Nate somewhat more and he did not whimper much.

===== Monday, week 14 =====

My nerves twitched madly until Rita the realtor called before noon. The house sale would close tomorrow! We set the closing for ten in the morning at a title office downtown, with Jeremy to sign as corporate manager since Open Services LLC would be the owner.

Nate and I spent the day packing all but last-minute necessities. I did most of it; he helped as he could. His bruises were less vivid. His scratches lost their scabs and the remaining scars were minor so we hit the gym for easy workouts and extended soaking. Attending gym rats were not too shocked.

===== Tuesday, week 14 =====

Busing downtown to the title office was more convenient and cost-effective than driving and parking, and the bus had better legroom than a taxi, if about equally smelly. We arrived, greeted, carefully reviewed documents, signed, and took the keys. Rita the realtor had suggested Three Guys With A Big Truck as reliable movers. I called them to do the deed tomorrow.

Nate and I shared a delivered Thai dinner and decent wine with landlords Terry and Beryl to bid them farewell on our last night. Hugs and tears all around. Damn, I had been here for so many years! I sketched them for a portrait I would paint when I had my new home studio ready.

===== Wednesday, week 14 =====

Nate and I had emptied everything emptiable and boxed everything boxable. The hunky Three Guys bent their backs to hauling everything out here and hauling it inside there; we pointed where to leave things. I had switched off the hallway blacklights so they missed that glowing scene.

Nate had improved enough to stagger up the new house's front steps. Would we live here long enough to go decrepit and needful of a hoist? I could not see us leaving The City; this was home.

Our bed was the first bit of furniture assembled and placed in our new home. Nate remained too bruised for a comfortable fuck to christen our domicile. We will perform that ritual on all appropriate furniture.

I found a pathway for Figgy to reach our lush little backyard and I scattered familiar dirt on his route. He explored nervously but was adapting, I could tell.

===== Thursday, week 14 =====

We unpacked and arranged our possessions. The house was clean and tidy and needed no fresh paint but it remained mostly empty. More furniture was our next need; we marked locations on the floor with masking tape. But we had bathrooms (on each level!), a kitchen, bedroom, basic living room, and skeletal office, workshop, and studios all in order.

We had earned a paid-for dinner but Nate insisted on cooking. His chicken-mushroom paella was much better than I had feared. Maybe he had misled me about his stovetop skills; I would put him to work in the kitchen more often!

===== Friday, week 14 =====

We poked around stores in the Stonestown Mall for cabinets, shelving, chairs, tables, desks, lamps, workbenches, ethnic rugs, guest-room furnishings... all the ingredients of a well-filled home. Sellers promised to stage deliveries at reasonable times tomorrow.

I took on another christening task: I drew front and rear images of the house on cards for Lori and Larry, inviting them and their parents to visit our new home. We look forward to guests.

===== Saturday, week 14 =====

Big guys in big trucks delivered big loads all day. We directed them to the marked-off locations and requested they remove the wrapping materials when they left. We will toss the non-plastic leftovers into the house fireplace on cool nights.

The Thai dinner delivery girl was surprised to see us at a new address. "It was so much easier when I didn't have to climb front steps," she grumbled. I tipped her anyway.

An evening of relaxation would have been nice but alas, that was not to be. So many THINGS needed to occupy so many cabinets, shelves, closets, and workspaces. With wine and a joint, we retired to bed tired but happy.

===== Sunday, week 14 =====

Even on a supposed 'day of rest', I cannot stop painting and Nate cannot stop performing. I parked the Audi by the waterfront; Nate entertained tourists at Fisherman's Wharf with his voice and Dobro; donations streamed into his open guitar case. I sketched the tourist scene.

"It's time for a new normal," he told me. "I'll give the cash I collect here to a children's shelter and I'll drop the joints off at Suzie's to keep my old flatmates high; we can afford better weed. I'll have to think about any trinkets I receive. But if I don't have the guitar case open, nobody will stop to listen to me. That's how busking works."

Yet more reasons I love this man!

We were almost relaxed. We could have gone to our new home — our new home! — to make dinner but Cliff House and an offshore fogbank drew us for a sunset repast.

A diner recognized me from one of Argo's events; we talked of a commissioned portrait; thus our food and drinks were a business expense, a tax write-off. Ethical? Feh. It is legal.

===== Monday-Sunday, week 15 =====

I further organized the house, the office, and my studio. Nate's electronics workshop was his first priority. He phoned the Demons to say he could examine their processing devices over the next few days. Grouchy quickly brought those to our door and stayed long enough to offer suggestions about Nate's workshop and studio.

"We'll need these back by Thursday afternoon. And you should get better mics and make sure all your inputs are isolated and grounded; hum ruins audio quality. That two-track Ampex tape machine is okay but I'll swap you a better TEAC three-track for it. Those should fit both our needs. Hey, I gotta say you're doing okay so far. See ya no later than Thursday."

No wasted words or time. Professional, even if grumpy.

I painted Wilona's sexy 'miniatures' and worked-up new versions of older visions this week. Nate drove the Beetle to supply shops for electronic stuff, professional microphones, and a Telecaster electric guitar. He otherwise lurked in his workshop, soldering stuff together, peering at wavy lines on display screens, and producing odd noises. Figgy, while adapting to his new quarters, avoided the room and its singed odors and ominous sounds.

We went to the gym every evening and made love more energetically every night. Nate's aches and pains were almost gone.

=====

Nate had a set of devices assembled and roughly documented by Wednesday afternoon. He called the Demon house for an immediate meeting. Nate drove the Beetle; Grouchy helped lug the old and new gear into their basement studio. The band was on hand to plug instruments and microphones into Nate's creations. Reactions came fast.

"My, my, my," Rolf said, "this makes my bass fresh and clean, or funky as can be. I love it!"

"My guitars always sounded dirtier before," Dolph said. "This is pretty fucking magical."

Grouchy leaned from his control booth. "Distortion is almost undetectable. Ya done good, fella."

"Let's put something on tape," Signe said. "I think 'Honey Blues' will test the dynamics."

They played their classic song. Everyone was quite happy when Grouchy rolled the playback.

"What did you do there?" Mick asked Nate. "We sound richer, both brighter and deeper."

"Smarter and simpler circuits and higher-quality components make all the difference. And I can't find anything like these in the literature. Lydia, I think I should file for a patent. Put Jeremy on it. Once protected, we can look for an assembly shop to build and sell a new product line."

I said, "So we'll be in the hardware business too? Well, we have a management team for that."

"I bet my electronics program at SF State won't suffer," Nate said, "if I hold some circuit patents."

"Let's see how these survive reality," Signe said. "We're playing The Boarding House tomorrow through the weekend. We'll give your stuff a workout, and take our old gear too, just in case. You two," pointing at me and Nate, "come for the Sunday show and we'll see what's left intact."

=====

We needed a break from house setup and had no real commitments until Sunday night but did not want to leave for long; I had nobody to tend Figgy for a few days. Thursday morning saw us shopping: automatic kibble and water dispensers for Figgy, and new Peugeot 15-speed touring bicycles for us humans! Along with racks, panniers, flagpoles and flags, gloves, lightweight trailers, and other amenities for bike travel.

"We'll use all this soon enough," Nate said, "but for now, how about riding around town? Gather an art bundle and gear if you want. Let's ride some parks and parkways."