Page 80 of Mr. Picture Perfect
Dean’s outpouring of positivity appears to annoy Anthony, who makes a face and says, “I’m not some leather-jacket-wearin’ ‘bad boy’. Why do you gotta go and pigeonhole me like that? I’m a good guy, Malcolm. I go to church. I help out around town. I was … hell, I was even almost a vetanda vet. The animal kindandthe military kind.”
“And you didn’t make it into either the militaryorvet school, right?” says Malcolm with a lift of his eyebrow. Anthony sputters. “Hey, I’m not judging. I am the self-named bad boy of my own family with an overachiever sister whose similar love for animals got her a cushy life on the other side of the country.” He stops in front of the pavilion and faces Anthony. “But if you want to help us sell a lot of tickets to this thing and make some serious dough for Spruce, go with the ‘bad boy’ thing. Think of it like aroleyou’re playing. You will have ladies licking food out of your palms.”
Anthony’s face wrinkles up, likely imagining puppies instead of ladies. “The fuck…?” he mutters under his breath—again.
“And besides, it’s important we sell tickets, because I expect our lovely venue here to be sold outwitha waiting list.” Malcolm makes another dramatic tap on his tablet. The world may never know what he’s tapping on or what purpose that tablet serves, but he holds it like some precious artifact imbued with otherworldly powers. “And as you can see, we have alotof room.”
Dean, Anthony, and I all gaze beyond Malcolm at the pavilion and its enormous empty space where countless tables and chairs will be set out, beyond which rests its huge stage, where so many eyes will be affixed and hungry for entertainment.
Malcolm faces us. “Hey, don’t be scared. When you’re up on that stage, the audience will look like dark, abyssal nothingness. And that dark, abyssal nothingness will be cheering you on. You’ll feel right at home, and every single second spent up there will be the biggest stroke your ego has ever felt.” He hugs the tablet to his chest and smiles at us. “Any questions? Or shall we move on?”
The ringing silence from the three of us is his answer.
And so we move on.
The truth is, the backstage of the pavilion is quite interesting and well-kept, and I find myself more inspired than scared by the idea. While Malcolm might exude a constant air of command over the three of us, I know that it’s his way of instilling confidence in us that this event will be well-managed and efficiently run, and that we have nothing to worry about. “Even if you mess up,” he says at one point with a laugh, “really, an audience like this will be the most forgiving crowd you have ever faced. Theywantto love you. Never forget that.”
After exploring the pavilion, the rest of our time is spent in a sunroom at the back of the house while Malcolm helps us through a discussion of how the event will run and what will be expected of us. He even gets us a jumpstart on brainstorming some ideas for our talents, which seems to give Dean and I the biggest trouble, as neither of us know many performable things we’re good at doing.
Anthony, on the other hand: “I’ve got a sick double backflip I can show off if you get me a trampoline. Or, or—wait—I could do, like, a flying thing where you can have me up on wires and … andflyme in from the side or something, like …” He changes his mind suddenly and lifts his hands. “Y’know what? What if I do a magic trick? I can make the other bachelors …disappear. It’ll be a funny gag thing, like I’m tryin’ to win, and I want to be the only one. It’ll be so funny! Then the host or whoever can egg me on, and I can make the bachelors reappear, too. It’ll be a whole thing!”
Dean lets out the tiniest of sighs. “Or we can stick to more …practicalendeavors. Juggling. Playing the piccolo.”
“Whatever, you don’t evenhavea talent,” grumbles Anthony.
“You seem mighty talented at making a fool of yourself. Tell me, would it be out of the realm of possibility for you to dress up as a clown while riding a unicycle?”
“You callin’ me a clown?”
“I see nothing wrong with that,” says Dean innocently. “I like clowns. Do you like clowns, Cole? Do you like clowns, Malcolm?”
“I’m not a damned clown,” grunts Anthony, scowling.
“They’re skilled at making children laugh,” insists Dean. “Not a talent to be taken lightly, you know …”
Malcolm and I stare blankly at each other as the two of them go back and forth. Malcolm attempts to intercept their less-than-constructive exchange, only for it to steer right back into the two bachelors insulting one another.
By the fifth time the two of them start going at it, even I’ve had enough. “Guys, seriously,” I cut in, interrupting something Anthony is saying. “We can’t keep playing around like this. We’ve got an important event that’s less than four weeks away. Sounds like a lot of time, but it really isn’t. The town will be counting on us. I know you guys don’t get along, that much is obvious, but can’t we just set aside our differences and—”
“You always take the old man’s side,” growls Anthony.
Dean quirks an eyebrow. “We’re back to the ‘old man’ thing?”
I sigh at Anthony. “Hey, if I’m on any side, it’s the side of this pageant we’re doing. And if we want it to go well, we have to—”
“I don’thaveto do anything. And you’re totally on his side.” Anthony scoffs and crosses his arms. “I’m the one with all the cool ideas. Dean is just too much of asnobto appreciate them.”
“Really?” barks Dean, losing his patience. “You want Malcolm and his team to construct a—what is it?—some kind ofrope and pulleycontraption to make youflyacross the pavilion like you’re Spider-Man? Do you know how expensive that is, young man? Not to mention the liability. You want to use up all the money we’re trying to fundraise here just so you ‘look cool’?”
“My ideas are bad-ass! Notmyfault you don’t recognize them. Nadine even told me I was needed for my unique perspective.”
“What perspective is that?” asks Dean. “One from a gutter?”
Anthony rises to his feet so fast, I can’t help but stand up also, alarmed. “No one looks down on me, you got that?” he shouts.
“Everyone in this room is looking down on you without any help from me,” states Dean. “Everyone in town, too. Even Nadine, who pities you so much, she had to invite you on as a bachelor to give your life direction.” Dean crosses his arms and leans back.
The words appear to sting Anthony.
