The Facade

Chapter 4

"Marlon, I first want to touch on..." I tried to speak, but Marlon's radio still was still playing obnoxiously loud.

He seemed totally unbothered by the noise and inconsiderate to my feelings about it. He only looked to me in the most nonchalant way, waiting for my question.

"I wanted to speak to you about..." I began, but then I decided I wasn't going to settle for this. He needed someone to put the right idea in that mind of his.

"What? I can't hear you." He spoke in a deaf-toned voice.

"Can you turn that down?" I attempted to say over the music. Marlon didn't like that suggestion, a long face spread across his expression.

He stood up from the couch and began walking slowly to the radio. This was all on purpose, it was as if he wanted to annoy me by taking his time. Once he got there, his fingers wrapped around the knob and clicked it off. The yellow light that glowed from behind the speakers of the device shut off. Finally, there was almost peace and quiet in the room besides the bustling traffic outside.

His strong body stood there tensely, as if he was in thought. Then, he dragged his feet like a child from the radio over to his kitchenette. He lifted his muscular arm up to the fridge handle, his back rippled as he opened the fridge. Back then, fridges were smaller, so he leaned down to see what was inside. He found what he was in search for, and out came a beer in his hand.

As he went to shut the door, he locked eyes with me. Marlon had drawn the last straw from my patience, I wore an obvious scowl on my face. Marlon somehow interrupted my expression differently.

"Oh, I'm sorry, would you like a beer?" He lifted his bottle. I didn't say a word, I only gave him a deadly stare. He shrugged and slammed the fridge shut. "Suit yourself."

After he got a bottle opener, he sat beside me with his open beer. "Alright, what do you want?" Marlon asked me bluntly. I stared at him blankly, pen in hand wondering how he could be so daft when it came to the feelings of others. He rose his eyebrows at me as if I were the one acting out of place.

"May I ask what do you mean by that question?" I asked him, sitting up straight.

"Well, usually these journalists want a certain image. A nice guy, a bad guy... a family guy, a lover boy." Marlon listed on in the most hubristic way. I didn't know exactly what question to ask him, his arrogance totally distracted me.

Apparently my moment of shock was taking too long for Marlon. "Come on, I can do what you want, baby, but I don't got all day."

"I don't have all day either, but I already feel that my time has been waisted." I spoke up in the most calm voice I could pull together.

"Alright." I said in a smooth tone. "Someone told me you attended the New School. How did that come about?"

"I got thrown out too." Marlon grumbled. "Those people are always trying to tell you the right way to do things. The only right way to get something done is to just do it. Without all of those instructions!"

"That's how school works, Marlon." I told him sarcastically. He sat up straight, and while keeping total eye contact, his full lips wrapped around his beer bottle. He drank his beer, then exhaled as he expressed his refreshment.

"Wouldn't be the first time I got kicked out of a dumb old school." He mumbled. Suddenly I noticed a photo he had on the wall across the room. It showed a younger version of him in a militaristic uniform. I looked to the grown man sitting in front of me once again.

He was always attractive, wasn't he? I thought.

"Come on, get to the juicy stuff. I know that's why you're here anyway." Marlon sat back. "You know, I've done a few of these interviews at this point and none of them want to know about my career."

"I did not come to pester you about your personal manners, Marlon." I reassured him. "Only to ask you simple questions about the play and your acting."

"Fine. The play it is." Marlon agreed, taking another drink.

"I heard you've done other plays but they weren't as successful. What differences did you make in your performances to get where you are today?" I read one of the questions I'd written down earlier.

"Oh, bullshit!" Marlon stood up from the couch. He slammed his beer onto the coffee table in front of us. "Must you ask me these dull questions?"

"Marlon, these are questions that are practically protocol when it comes to people like you." I placed my pen down, annoyed we once again were distracted.

"If this is how it's gonna be, you might as well as me the real bullshit questions! About sex or my diet!" Marlon said with a scowl on his face.

"Marlon, I could ask you about your sex life and more details about the nude mystery girl coming out of your apartment, but that is not my interest!" I repeated to him once again.

"Who?" Marlon looked at me with a confused look. Then, he nodded with a smile. "Oh, Molly."

"Lucy." I reminded him.

"What'd ya say?" Marlon asked.

"Her name was Lucy." I told him. Now, he was absolutely tense.

"Hey, if this is how it'll go then why don't you just leave?" Marlon told me.

"I couldn't suggest a better outcome to this encounter." I stood up from the couch, then I began walking toward the door.

"Fine, well haul out of here!" Marlon walked behind me and quickly swatted my behind. I turned around in one swift motion, staring at him with fury.

"Hey, what's your problem? I've had 'lotta broads come in here but you're the most difficult." Marlon crossed his arms over his chest.

"I can reassure you that the women you've had come in here aren't in the same class as me." I lifted my head up high.

"You're right, your behind is in a class of it's own." Marlon joked as he placed his hands up as if to measure it.

Suddenly, I didn't care about the interview, I didn't care about my job, all I cared about was connecting the palm of my hand with his cheek.

Marlon stepped back holding his face. Although I'd just slapped him, his reaction was pure satisfaction. With a smile, he said "Why'd you smack me for? I was only getting to know you."

After that, I immediately exited his apartment with no plans on ever seeing him again. Of course, life never goes as planned.