“It’s not an original message. It’s not a difficult message. It’s actually quite simple, yet only you had the courage to say what needed to be said,” said Betty Hubbard. “What motivated you to create these works, to deliver this message?”
Sitting in the studio across from Betty Hubbard was Charles Sheldon, the infamous Deeds Speak. This was the one story Betty still wanted, and she had pulled every string in her arsenal to get the first, ‘exclusive’ interview with the artist whose work had inspired the entire country. Everyone wanted to speak with him; she just had a little more pull than the others and a few more favors to call in to ensure she was the first.
Her first impressions of Charles had been a bit disconcerting; he seemed a little too caught up in the attention that was being thrown his way; for someone who had been delivering a message anonymously, he seemed a little overtly concerned with credit. She had expected a more humble, socially motivated individual, and had been disappointed. Nonetheless, there was no denying what he had done, and the good it had brought to life; he had in essence, taken a Frank Capra movie and turned it into reality – no small feat.
“I thought it was time,” said Charles, obviously enjoying his moment in front of the lights and cameras, obviously enjoying the fact he was the subject matter of the great Betty Hubbard. “The world can be a terrible place, one in which we are too ready to hate rather than love; it is far easier for us to frown at someone than it is to smile. It just didn’t seem right. There’s not a lot to be said for the desires of the human condition.”
“But why graffiti?” asked Betty.
“I simply wanted to use art as a way of inspiring people to be better than they are. No, not better, but to realize the goodness within them; art creates beauty. I believe art has the ability to heal people’s souls,” said Charles.
“You’ve been arrested and charged with vandalism. How do you defend yourself against the charges laid?”
Charles smiled – a big smile. “Being guilty of the charges leveled at me, all I can do is to throw myself on the mercy of the court. I intended no harm. My intentions were nothing but good.”
“Can you turn that shit off,” said Holland to Ethan. Ethan was behind the counter of the store, and as such, in control of the TV’s remote.
“What, you don’t want to hear the glorious Deeds Speak speak?” said Ethan. Holland could hear the contempt in his voice.
“Not particularly. Could you turn it off please?”
Ethan picked up the remote and turned off the TV.
Charles Sheldon was a popular man. Talk of Charles Sheldon seemed to dominate the airwaves, and now this exclusive interview with Betty Hubbard, the reporter he knew had helped him make a difference with his graffiti art. Everything had been going well, until now. Holland had no idea how this Charles Sheldon guy could sit there on national TV and claim credit for something he had absolutely nothing to do with. What kind of moral compass could this guy have?
The story of Deeds Speak, or Charles arrest was well known. He had been caught while in the beginning stages of starting one of his works of art on a popular building in a busy part of the city – too busy for anyone to think they could get away with tagging. It was late at night, but the police caught him quickly, and he had readily confessed to being Deeds Speak – as they say, he was caught red-handed.
Holland had to hand it to Charles Sheldon; he had masterminded his subterfuge beautifully. He didn’t even have to try and copy Holland’s style, as he had merely waited until he spotted a police patrol nearby, and then taken out his paint cans, and began working – stopped before he could get anything significant or recognizable on the city building’s wall.
If it wasn’t for the fact he knew it was a lie, and Charles was ruining what he had started (Deeds Speak needed to remain anonymous to be effective), Holland had to admit it was a brilliant plan. The only problem was, Deeds Speak represented good and being good, and Charles secretly represented all that was bad in the world.
“Can you believe all the attention that guy is getting for his lousy work?” asked Ethan, as Holland approached the store’s counter.
Holland couldn’t help but smile; when he heard Ethan had been mugged and beaten up several weeks back, he couldn’t believe it; when you lived in the city you tend to get used to the city and stop thinking about the possible dangers that might be lurking within it. He and Angie moved around the city all the time, and never once considered either one of them could be mugged, let alone brutally attacked like Ethan had. Sure, there were killings all the time; hell, there was even a serial killer – or at least had been – roaming the streets this summer killing young women. As far as Holland knew, he really wasn’t into following stories such as that, the police hadn’t caught the killer, but he also hadn’t struck again in quite some time – hopefully, he’d seen the error of his ways and stopped killing, or more than likely, someone like him, who was prone to commit the ultimate illegal act, had committed another act and was in the system or jail on some other unrelated charge. That’s what he figured.
He had visited Ethan in the hospital; they had kept him for a couple of days for observation. Ethan had been extremely lucky that his wounds weren’t worst than they were. Nonetheless, it had unnerved him seeing Ethan all banged up and wounded. He and Angie now moved around the city with more awareness, not wanting to be caught unawares as Ethan had.
As Ethan worked on getting better, he and Angie had taken care of the store, the weeks Ethan was convalescing being Angie’s two week notice. It had been rough, but sometimes you just have to do what you just have to do.
Ethan was back; and it was great to see him back. At the same time, if Holland worried that the beating Ethan took would change him, it hadn’t – he was still the same arrogant asshole he always had been. The beating hadn’t slowed him down, and driven him into a shell; if anything, he seemed to be angrier and more arrogant.
Holland knew Ethan hated everyone’s work but his own; so he didn’t take offense when Ethan criticized the work of Deeds Speak; there was no hope in hell he would ever praise it, even if he secretly liked it.
“There’s no accounting for taste, I guess,” said Holland. “Have you had a chance to go through the various resumes Angie and I collected over the last couple of weeks?”
He and Angie had taken it upon themselves to put a ‘Help Wanted’ sign on Near Dark’s door; the store was in a busy, and quite trendy, part of the city, so they figured, rather than posting a ‘Help Wanted’ ad online or in the local indie-hipster newspaper, they might as well just put a sign on the door and see what happened. The response had been overwhelming; they’d collected more than enough resumes for Ethan to find a suitable replacement for Angie.
“I’m going to get to it this afternoon,” said Ethan.
“It would help if they knew something about ‘cult’ or ‘obscure’ films, but I guess they could always learn on the job, right?” said Holland.
“It’d be...,” Ethan started to say, until he was distracted by the sound of his cell phone receiving a text. “One sec.”
Ethan reached for his phone. Holland watched, surprised. He didn’t know why he thought it at that moment, and he had to be wrong, but for as long as he had worked at Near Dark, he couldn’t remember Ethan ever receiving a text message or even a phone call on his cell. Surely that couldn’t be?
Ethan smiled.
He wanted to show the universe it couldn’t fuck with him – he couldn’t be stopped; he would achieve his greatness, no matter what. With that in mind, he had gone out on a limb this morning and sent a text: “Would you be interested in meeting me tonight for coffee?”
He expected rejection.
Instead, on his phone was a return text from Cheryl Delaney. It simply read: “Sure! Where and when?”
“You don’t necessarily look all that happy,” said Margot Simmons, as she walked with Betty Hubbard from the studio to her office. “You got the exclusive. I’m sure everyone is pissed off. Pissed off, but picking up the interview and playing clips from it in their news broadcasts. I understand Charles Sheldon has a press conference planned for later today, but let’s face it, after your interview, who cares?”
Something wasn’t right.
Betty had built a successful career as a news woman based on equal parts instinct, brains and gut feeling. Something about today just didn’t sit well with her, but she didn’t know what. Maybe with all that was going on in her life, her instincts were starting to fail her.
“He’s not what I expected,” she said.
“What did you expect?” asked Margot.
Everyone in the news room was gunning to replace Betty Hubbard one day – one day when she decided to step down and left the throne for King or Queen of the newsroom empty. Most of them did their best to out report her, but never did. Margot also wanted to replace her, as she knew Betty couldn’t go on forever, but she was at least being smarter than the others; rather than alienate Betty by going after her and trying to prove she was better than her, Margot had become her friend and was soaking up all the knowledge she could regarding how Betty thought and operated. Margot was young, so she could wait for Betty’s retirement; until then, she also just had to be smarter than everyone else. It wasn’t that she hadn’t come to like Betty; it was just that ambition didn’t always allow for pure friendships – not in the news game.
“I don’t know, I just know that wasn’t it,” said Betty.
They walked along in silence for a few seconds.
“You know, the offers have all ready started piling in,” said Betty, breaking their silence.
“Offers?”
“Yeah,” said Betty, “I’ve got sources that have told me Hollywood has all ready come calling.”
“Hollywood?” said Margot, “That was kind of fast.”
“That’s how they operate,” said Betty. “Once news of Deeds Speaks arrest broke, they would have contacted someone here, or flown someone in, looking for an audience with this Charles Simmons, trying to tie up the movie rights to the Deeds Speak story. They’re like vultures, but then again, I assume they have to be.”
Betty knew that if she were in that business, she’d be just as aggressive.
“It’s bound to happen,” said Margot. “It’s a good story. Actually, it was a story that almost never was. You saw it for what it was, when the rest of us started looking the other way.”
“Yeah,” said Betty, “it was a good story. Now it is a story that is about to be corrupted.”
“So,” said Margot, as they approached the door to Betty’s office, “what are you going to do?”
“Nothing,” said Betty. “Sometimes good stories die. Sometimes. You’re not a fan of old movies are you, Margot.”
“You mean, like the Eighties? Pretty in Pink, Sixteen Candles, stuff like that?”
Betty almost laughed. Were Eighties movies really considered old movies these days? She hadn’t heard anything more depressing in a while, and she had been told she had a terminal disease and was going to die.
“How fucking old are you?” asked Betty.
“Sorry.”
“No, I mean classic movies, you know black and white movies from the 1930’s and ‘40’s?” said Betty.
“Not my cup of tea,” said Margot.
As far as Betty was concerned, the world was going to hell. It seemed more and more, the younger generation didn’t care about the past; unless it happened within the time of their lifespan, they really didn’t give a crap; they had such a narrow focus and it saddened her.
“If you get a chance, check out the movie The Man Who Shot Liberty Valance,” said Betty. “When you do watch it, there’s nothing wrong with your eyes. It is in black and white. It stars Jimmy Stewart, one of my favorites, along with John Wayne, and Lee Marvin as Liberty Valance.”
“I’m not really into westerns,” said Margot.
“How do you know it’s a western?”
“John Wayne.”
“Jesus, he did more than just westerns,” said Betty. These youngsters were just so clued out. “Anyway, it deals with telling a story that took place in the past. Jimmy Stewart’s character clears up a story where he got credit for something he didn’t do. He comes clean with the newspaper reporter in town, while in town to attend the funeral of an old friend, someone everyone thinks is inconsequential. After hearing the story, the news reporter’s editor tears up his notes and says something along the lines of, ‘When it comes to printing the truth or the legend, always print the legend.’”
Margot just looked at Betty, not quite sure what she was getting at.
“Something tells me the legend of Deeds Speak is going to be far more interesting than the reality of Deeds Speak,” said Betty, “Now if you’ll excuse me.”
Betty opened the door to her office and made her way in. Margot just stood there. She wondered where she could find this ‘Liberty’ movie Betty was going on about, but then realized, chance are, even if she could find it, she wasn’t going to watch it anyway.
Holland sat on the park bench contemplating his future. He was still angry, or maybe more annoyed than angry; either way, he didn’t like feeling that. He’d always believe that anger was what brought on sickness; anger and stress were those things that slowly destroyed not only one’s soul but one’s body. Not right away, but certainly if you harbored more anger in your life than happiness, you were in for some trouble.
He figured he probably didn’t have to worry just yet, but nonetheless, on principal, he didn’t like to walk around angry or annoyed.
He didn’t know what to do.
He’d planned to create more murals, try and keep the ‘good will’ movement he had stumbled upon going. But even as he planned that, he wondered what he should be doing. Angie was in school right now, and working hard on her degree; he never doubted she would get her degree and go on to become one of the next generation’s literary figures. She was not only motivated, but she was also extremely talented; she knew what she wanted, and she would get it. He also knew that he wanted to marry Angie. He truly loved her, but did he deserve her love?
Holland hated to sound old fashioned or like someone out of the 1950’s, but he believed a man should be able to take care of his bride; working at Near Dark was good enough for now, but it was a dead end. He had taken the job, not expecting to stay, but had been at the store far longer than he’d expected.
His work as Deeds Speak was the only thing he had ever gone out on a limb for; it had surprised him, but it had been good. He couldn’t help smiling when he considered it had all started because some psychic had told Ethan he was the reincarnation of Adolf Hitler. It didn’t sound either sane or plausible.
Holland had always appreciated the randomness of life, like how someone writing down Adolf Hitler’s name had contributed to something that had inspired people all over the country; how Angie had come into his life unexpectedly, and how they had both felt that connection. There was so much that happened, good and bad that you didn’t plan for, and it was often those things that meant the most in life.
Charles Sheldon stepping forward and declaring himself Deeds Speak was just another one of those random moments – good or bad. What Charles Sheldon had done really didn’t matter to Holland, as he realized whether he still continued on as Deeds Speak or not, he had bigger questions he needed to address if he was going to move forward and live a life that was suitable for him and Angie.
He knew he had a lot to think about. He also knew he couldn’t continue to embrace the anger or annoyance that had been preoccupying his thoughts. Charles Sheldon had stepped forward and there was nothing he could do about that, because he had no intention in stepping forward and trying to claim the title of Deeds Speak for himself – there was no point.
He knew he had to let go. Deeds Speak was over.
Deeds Speak was dead.