the one, then turned back to the shelves. He put the camera back into itsproper place, shut the cabinet, and fanned himself lazily with the picture, waiting for it to reveal my image.
He said, âThereâs something youâre hiding from me. What you are afraid to say to me is the stuff you want to keep for yourself and thatâs fine. Donât tell me, donât tell anyone. If you share too much, it will start to haunt you. Weâre painting a picture of you. It can look any way we want it to.â
The room quieted a moment, and the view of the street continued to plow along. Michael stopped flapping the photo and said, âI understand youâve been trying to locate a shop that may be the place your suit is from. Howâs that going?â
âHow do you know that?â
A shrug. âThat guy selling the tapes sells more than just tapes. How goes the search?â
âNot good.â
Michael smiled. âI didnât think so. You look lost. But you donât have to be. Leave what information you have with Robert and weâll get somebody on it. In the meantime, I want you to understand we can make you as big as you want to be.â
âYou make it sound easy.â
âIt is.â Michael looked at the picture. âThis is the picture of you that weâre painting for the public. I think itâs a pretty amazing picture.â He handed it to me.
Instead of a picture of my thigh, focusing on the scar, I saw a picture of me. All of me. I looked confused andtired, my pants dangling around my knees, my eyes focused up and to the left, toward the window that you couldnât see in the picture. The light from outside illuminated me, and my hands hung at my sides. I must have been about to say something, though I couldnât remember what, because I looked ready to speak. I was sweaty and shiny and something in my face made me think of Mal. I felt tired and scared.
I said, âYouâre always looking for new talent, right?â
âOf course.â
âWell, I have a friend. Heâs got a great act, breathing fire and juggling. He could use an agent too.â
Michael nodded. He avoided eye contact. âI could talk to him, see his act. Iâd have to see what he can do before I could agree.â
âSure. But if you were my agent and he wanted to meet with youââ
With a great smile Michael said, âMy door is always open for my clientsâ friends.â He took the photo back and said, âThis picture is just the first that will be taken of you. Are you ready to start helping me show you to the public?â
I said I was. I pulled my pants up and buckled my belt.
four
MICHAEL INTRODUCED ME to Hiko, a tall, slender, blind Japanese woman with large eyes, long fingers, and straight black hair she wore up on top of her head. She had a beauty mark on her upper lip exactly where Marilyn Monroe had one. Michael told me never to tell her that. âIf you never trust me about anything else, you should trust me on that.â
âWhy wouldnât she want to be compared to Marilyn Monroe?â I asked. âMonroe was beautiful.â
âSomeone told her that,â he said. âShe went ape-shit.â
Michael had been my agent for six weeks. I hadnât gotten any work yet, but heâd put me in a hotel, the Thomas, a semiupscale retro hotel in Midtown. Iâd been there, onhis tab, since signing the contracts in his office. At the time he told me, âYou look like hell. Get some rest, let me take care of you.â I tried to let him.
Michael also represented Hiko and had convinced her to do a portrait of me in time for an article about her in Modern Art . âYouâre so unique that chances are good theyâd use photos of any piece based on you in the article. Great cross promo.â
âShe agreed to this?â She didnât know me; neither did the magazine, for that matter.
âFirst,