Indelible

by Mark Carver

  Cameron smiled, and he knew she was smiling too. Neither one of them spoke for a few moments.

  Finally Cameron said, “Well it’s late, I’ll let you get back to bed. Sorry to wake you.”

  “No, don’t be. You’ve made this old woman very happy.”

  “Good night, Mom.”

  “Good night, Cameron.”

  Just before Cameron ended the call, he heard her cry out, “Oh, Cameron, wait! Don’t hang up!”

  “Mom, what’s wrong?”

  “Nothing, sweetheart, nothing. I just wanted to tell you what your Uncle Aiden found out. You know, he’s been doing some research on the family line, and guess what?”

  “What?”

  “He found out that our family is descended from the Picts. They were a group that lived in northern Scotland. Now here’s the interesting thing: experts believed they loved to tattoo themselves, even their faces! So I suppose you could say that you’re carrying on the family tradition!”

  Cameron had to smile. “That’s great Mom. You can tell that to your friends at the bridge club.”

  “You bet I will. They can have their boring children working in banks and law firms. My son is a Pict and I am darn proud of him.”

  “Thanks, Mom. Good night. I love you.”

  “Love you too, Cameron.

  Cameron set the phone on the dresser and looked at his shadowy face in the mirror. His mouth curled into an ironic smile.

  A Pict. He’d have to call Robyn and let her know. She’d be able to spin that into gold.

  His heart felt infinitely lighter. There was still a lingering twinge of guilt about ruining Mindy’s night, but he was glad that the other woman in his life didn’t hate him. One relationship at a time.

  As he burrowed under the blanket and felt his mind spiral towards sleep, one final though pierced through the thickening haze. It was the General’s voice.

  Is it worth the trouble?

  Before he could answer, he was asleep.

  ****

  When he awoke, he didn’t think about Mindy or his mother. As he showered, shaved, and prepared a simple breakfast of sweetened cereal and milk, he only thought about one thing.

  The Doomsong.

  The name had popped into his head as his mind pulled away from sleep like a scab. A name that called to mind delicacy, fluidity, and lethal terror. There was certainly something musical about the deadly blade. It looked like it was always moving, even when it lay still on a table.

  He was going to finish it today, or at least as much as he could. The rest would be up to the chrome finishers. Yet he was already considering keeping the chrome to a minimum. A few ideas played around in his head, and he would call on them when the time was right.

  He didn’t emerge from the shop for the entire day, stepping outside only to relieve himself in a cluster of bushes. He didn’t want to go into the house for fear that he would lose his mojo.

  Mindy crossed his mind once or twice, but he was too much in the groove to consider calling her. Besides, what would he say? He didn’t know how she felt about him, or if she even wanted to talk to him anymore. She didn’t seem particularly mad when he dropped her off last night, just...disappointed. He couldn’t tell if it was in him or just in the way the evening went.

  Don’t kid yourself. You’re the one who made that scene. Sure, they were rude, but they weren’t raving like a madman. She probably thinks you’re a bigger jerk than her ex.

  Cameron’s lips curled in a sneer as he snapped the welding mask down over his face. As harsh blue light illuminated the workshop, he tried to push her out of his mind.

  You’re probably better without the drama anyway. Just you and your swords. This is your time to shine; don’t let things get complicated for no reason. There’s a time and place for everything, and right now there’s only room enough for you.

  Cameron pulled the flame away and admired his handiwork. It was gorgeous. And he realized something in that moment: throughout his entire life, he had never experienced any happiness greater than the satisfaction of a job well done.

  So...get the hint yet?

  Cameron nodded his head quickly and the mask slapped back down over his face. He wasn’t interested in a conversation with himself. He had work to do.

  ****

  Several hours later, the Doomsong was finished.

  It lay on the table like a newborn child. So fragile and delicate, yet so resilient and beautiful. Invincible. Sweat trickled down his chest heaving with weary, ecstatic breaths.

  He wished that Chucky were here. He was confident that this was even beyond “awesome.”

  Wiping his hands on a rag, he took another long look at the sword. It was his best yet. He couldn’t wait to share it with the world.

  His feet barely touched the ground as he floated back inside the house. The fridge beckoned to him like a long lost friend, but he was too excited to eat. He just grabbed an ice cream sandwich from the freezer and wolfed it down, then popped open a beer. He could feel his fingertips glowing.

  Speaking of fingertips, they were filthy. He looked down at himself and wrinkled his nose. Shower first, then he would see about dinner. He stripped off his shirt as he walked to the bedroom and was in the process of taking off his pants when he spotted his phone on the dresser.

  A little message icon flashed on the screen. He picked up the phone and opened the message.

  Hey C, just wanted to let you know that Im going on a yoga retreat w/ a few friends from work. Gonna be gone for a few days. Could you water my flowers? Thnx. Don’t feel bad about last night, those guys were jerks. OK c ya soon.

  Cameron tossed the phone on the bed, feeling a little annoyed. He tried to sort out his thoughts but he couldn’t. She hadn’t said anything about a yoga retreat before; was she trying to keep some distance between them?

  Well, whatever she was up to, it was her business. She could stay gone for a month for all he cared.

  He stepped into the shower and turned up the heat.

  After two days, he brought the Doomsong home from the finisher. He felt like a proud father. He was even more proud when he got a copy of Inkling Magazine in the mail with his snarling face on the cover. He flipped through it like a ten-year-old boy getting a new comic book. There he was on page twelve, his oiled body sheathed in leather and studs, three sultry vixens pawing and twisting around him like serpents.

  A celebration was in order. He called up Chucky and together they finished two cases of beer and three pizzas. They watched both Conan the Barbarian movies back to back, per Chucky’s drunken suggestion that they dedicate the night to Conan the Beagle, the best damn dog that ever lived. They both fell asleep in Cameron’s living room sometime in the early morning.

  Cameron hadn’t mentioned his new creation, and he felt guilty about keeping the secret from his friend. He knew Chucky would hit the roof when he saw the Doomsong, but he wanted the moment to be right. He even had a chance to play with his emotions a little after they had consumed a greasy breakfast to combat their hangovers.

  “What’ve you been working on?” Chucky inquired drowsily. “Don’t tell me all you’ve been doing is posing for pictures like an underwear model.”

  “Oh, well, you know, I’ve been working on a couple of things,” Cameron answered, watching his friend’s face closely. He would know from Chucky’s reaction if he suspected anything, but Chucky seemed more interested in the new tattoos across his knuckles that weren’t healing fast enough.

  “Oh yeah?” he answered absently. “Anything good?”

  “Yeah, I think so. I’ll show you sometime.”

  Chucky just nodded, and that was the end of it. Shortly after mid-morning, he announced that he had to go to his latest part-time job. He went through about two a month.

  Cameron saw him off, then ducked back inside. He told himself he was still sensitive to the sun’s glare, but the truth was that he didn’t want to look at Mindy’s flowers.

  He stared at the s
word reposing in his closet as he called Robyn.

  “Robyn, it’s Cameron.”

  “Mr. McConnell! How are you?” She sounded unusually formal.

  “Uh, I’m good. Listen, I want you to help me with something.”

  “Anything.”

  “I finished my new sword, and it’s amazing. I mean, really amazing. I want to unveil it at MasterCon next month. I didn’t register my own booth but I’ve got a buddy that I’m sure would let me make an entrance. Anyway, I want to do something special for this unveiling, not just the usual show with a fog machine and girls and music and all that. Something that no one’s done before.”

  There was a pause for a moment. Cameron could almost hear the gears of her mind turning and grinding.

  “Okay, I might have a couple of ideas. Send me some pictures of the sword and I’ll talk to some people. I’ll get back to you in a few days. Sound good?”

  “Great, thanks.”

  “Take care, Mr. McConnell.”

  She’s a weird one, Cameron thought as he hung up the phone. Then he remembered that he needed to give Peter Kowalski a call and see if he could let him borrow a corner of his booth at MasterCon.

  As he dialed the number, he realized this was going to be his first convention in a long time. And he was thrilled.

  What was wrong with me before?

  Then he remembered.

  Shane Calhoun.

  He clenched his teeth, imagining the back-stabbing traitor surrounded by adoring fans and swooning women. A dark cloud passed over Cameron’s face.

  That was all going to change now. Chucky was right - he wasn’t going to be held hostage. He was going to…

  A deep voice that sounded slightly out of breath answered the phone. “Peter Kowalski.”

  Cameron’s mind switched gears. “Hey Peter, it’s Cameron.”

  “Cameron! Hey man, I’ve been hearing a lot about you. That’s something crazy you did to your face man, but everyone’s going wild about it. I’ve been moving your replicas as soon as they come in.”

  “That’s great. Listen, I have a favor to ask.”

  “Name it.”

  Cameron smiled.

  ****

  After three days, Mindy still wasn’t back from her yoga retreat. This irritated Cameron, and it irritated him even more because he didn’t know why he was irritated. He tried to channel his energy towards other unfinished projects, but he found that after finishing the Doomsong, his creativity bank was drained. The thought of forging a blade or carving a gilded sword hilt wasn’t as appealing as it used to be. Perhaps he was afraid that anything he made would be inferior to the masterpiece that lay tucked away in his closet, sheathed in bubble wrap.

  So he did what any aimless bachelor would do. He turned on the computer. He’d never thought of it before, but the idea to start a blog suddenly struck his mind. He had been given the administrator’s password to his personal website, but he’d never written any blog posts or news updates since the site was launched.

  He figured now was a good time as any. It would be a good way to drum up publicity and keep fans and collectors on edge. Robyn had mentioned something about controlled information release, kind of like what fishermen do when they let a little bit of line out, just a few feet at a time.

  Cameron cracked his knuckles and began typing. He went through several drafts, and the final post was pretty bare-bones:

  “Just finished my best work yet! Excited to unveil it at MasterCon next month. See you there!”

  It felt more like a tweet than a news update, but he couldn’t think of anything else to say. He didn’t dare post a picture or anything. He wished he had some photos of himself working in the shop. It was a good idea, and he filed it away in his mind to discuss with Robyn sometime.

  He spent several hours that day and the next browsing the internet, popping in at fan forums, updating his Facebook page, tweeting about nothing in particular, and answering emails. His inbox was flooded with orders, and he had to decline most of them. There were a few intriguing offers from some heavy hitters, including a movie studio that was interested in discussing a possible collaboration in the near future. Cameron told them he would consider it and get back to them.

  By the fourth day, he was starting to feel worried. Maybe Mindy hadn’t gone on a yoga retreat. Maybe she fled back into the arms of her abusive ex-boyfriend...

  He gasped when he heard a car pull into Mindy’s driveway. He parted the blinds and spotted Mindy getting out of a car filled with smiling people. They looked like they had just returned from a yoga retreat.

  He watched her as she headed up the walkway towards her front door. He hoped she would throw a glance towards his house, but she didn’t. She opened her door and disappeared inside.

  Cameron let the blinds snap shut, and he looked around, as if searching for his next move. Should he call her? No, it was too soon; it would seem a little creepy, and she might suspect that he had been waiting for her. Had he been waiting for her? She was just his neighbor, after all.

  Well, she was back now, and she looked like she had had a nice time. Good for her. Now he could get back to work and stop thinking about her.

  Except that’s not what happened.

  The nagging urge to give her a call gnawed at the corner of his mind all day, even when he went out to the shop and made half-hearted attempts to work on some special orders. He gave up after a couple of hours and skulked back into the house.

  It was so easy. All he had to do was pick up the phone, find her number, and press call.

  So what was the problem?

  He clenched his teeth in frustration and grabbed the phone. Just a quick call to see how she was doing, a little chit-chat, nothing more.

  Just as he picked up the phone, it buzzed violently in his grip. He almost dropped it, he was so surprised. Frowning, he peered at the number.

  Robyn.

  “Hello?” he answered, trying to sound casual, but the reality was that he was very excited to hear what she had to say. All thoughts of Mindy vanished from his mind.

  “Cameron, sweetheart, how are you?” Her voice was very pleasant and sunny, in sharp contrast to her tone during their last conversation.

  “I’m good, thanks. What’s up?”

  “I’ve got some great news for you. I remember you telling me that you’re a rock and roll fan.”

  Cameron’s eyebrows rose. Where was she going with this? “Yeah, I’m a bit of a metalhead.”

  He could hear the proud smile in her voice. “Well I think you’ll be pretty excited about this. Are you ready?”

  “Yes.” Come on, I’m not a child.

  “Okay. Are you familiar with the band Hammer Star?”

  “Of course. Who isn’t?”

  “Well me, for one. But I’m not into that sort of thing. Anyway, I talked to a friend in the music business, and they told me that Hammer Star is releasing a new album next month.”

  “I know, I’ve already pre-ordered it. But what does that have to do with me?”

  “Patience, sweetheart, patience. My friend told me that Hammer Star has just finished filming a music video for their new single. Now here’s where you come in. It’s genius, by the way.”

  “Robyn, you’re killing me here.”

  “Okay, sorry. I’ll cut to the chase – they want to add you to the video.”

  Cameron was stunned. “What?”

  “They want to add some clips of you to the video. You won’t actually be on screen with the band, but it’s a medieval/fantasy-themed song, and my friend thinks it would look pretty rad if there were some clips of you forging the sword in some sort of blacksmith costume. You know, fire, bellows, the whole thing. All keeping in tone with the video and the song. There will be shots of you making the sword, then the band doing their thing and rocking and rolling, then back to you, etc. At the end of the video, we get a look at the sword. It’s brilliant. Kind of like product placement. What do you think?”

  Came
ron’s fingers were trembling. He couldn’t believe what he’d just heard.

  “Cameron? Are you still there?”

  “Y-yeah,” he stammered. “Robyn, are you being serious? This isn’t a joke or anything?”

  “I’m dead serious. I was pretty excited myself when I heard the idea, and I’m not even into rock music. I’m an 80’s pop girl myself.”

  Cameron had to take a couple of deep breaths to make sure his brain was getting enough oxygen.

  Hammer Star. I’m going to be in a music video with Hammer Star.

  When the wave of euphoria had subsided to a manageable level, his mind clicked back into work mode. “So what do I need to do?”

  “Well you need to get some other swords made in various stages of completion. Probably two or three. It will be pretty dark on the set I’m told, so you don’t need to make anything too detailed. They’ll provide all the props and your costume and things. Filming should probably only take half a day.”

  Cameron didn’t realize his face had broken into a big dopey smile. “Wow, this is unbelievable. Thanks Robyn, you’re awesome.”

  “That’s what everyone keeps telling me, so I’m guessing it’s true. So how about next week?”

  “Yeah, that’d be fine. I’ll bust my butt and get some new swords made.”

  “Great. I’ll let them know you’re on board. Oh, Cameron, before I forget, there’s one more thing. It’s kind of important.”

  “Okay?”

  “This isn’t for free. You’re going to need to pony up some cash for the shoot.”

  Cameron’s stomach fell a few inches. “How much?”

  “My friend says they’ll need $15,000.”

  Cameron gulped. “$15,000…”

  “Is that doable for you? I could talk to some people about maybe loaning you some – "

  “No, no, that’s fine. I’ve got it.”

  “Okay. I’ll give you a call next week with times and places. Cool?”

  “Yeah. Thanks Robyn.”

  “Okay sweetheart, take care. Kisses.”

  Cameron hung up the phone. He was ecstatic and worried at the same time. Where was he going to get $15,000? He could ask his mother, but that was the last thing he wanted to do. He was just grateful that she wasn’t angry at him anymore, and he didn’t want to take any chances with their relationship.

  He frowned as he stared at the living room carpet. Then his eyes grew wide. His muscles tightened and a small voice inside cried out. No! Please...!