Brevity
Charcoal City... a bustling metropolis to most... but to Dioptase, the world renown and anonymous street artist... a canvas.
When a painting bought by a local tattooist is revealed to be of incredible value, the procurer and her friends find themselves targeted by the corrupt parties that want it for themselves.
In order to preserve the message and keep the painting out of the hands of a villainous mob family, the mysterious creator must intervene while circumnavigating their own complicated connections to the predicament.
Brevity is a mini-series saga of art, crime, family, friendship, labor, and hidden identity.
Brevity
Episode 2
Use Left/Right to seek, Home/End to jump to start or end. Hold shift to jump forward or backward.
Paternal Summons... Nefariousness Revealed... Eavesdropper Danger...
Voice Actors: CJ Cinco, Sam McMorris, Ronald G. Lethkoe, Scott Wike, Conner Her, Melissa Jones, Tara Kempton, Molly Lynch, and Kacey Johnston.
Written, Narrated and Produced by Mark Johnston
www.constellationaudio.biz
Photo Credit: Seth Steward
Music by Mark Johnston
Constellation Audio probably presents Brevity by Mark Johnston. Episode two.
Speaker 5Seventeen, eighteen, nineteen, twenty, twenty-one, twenty-two, twenty-three.
Speaker 2As he finishes his fourth set of push-ups, Christian stands up, takes a large drink of water, and paces the room, preparing to begin his first set of full arm body lifts on a horizontal bar hanging from the high wooden beams, reaching into the elevated ceiling. Christian's 49th Street loft would always be his proverbial fortress of solitude. Several well-used guitars hung on the wall above a painting easel, nestled up to the window. Next to a vintage-padded chair stood two large bookshelves, one with literature, the other packed to capacity with record sleeves. Three enormous patterned rugs and a frameless mattress partially covered the old dark wooden floors. Through the colossal antique windows shot bright beams of light, constantly highlighting the suspended dust floating in the air. He woke up this morning energized. He had big plans for his next artistic venture. Those greedy bastards were on to his rhythm, pulling the art right out of the building before he even had a chance to make it vanish. Succinctness was a commonly misunderstood quality, and the most beautiful things in life were often short-lived. He enjoyed toying with the speculators by continuing to hammer that message home. With the circumstances changing, whatever he had planned next would have to keep them on their toes. As for his other little side mission, it tickled him that his secret painting had finally sold out of the coffee shop. There was little doubt that it would be auctioned off in the next day or two for an outrageous sum, but the joke had already been played.
Speaker 4They all act like they're such big fans of my work. My painting sat on a very public wall for almost seven weeks and didn't even sell for $200. But with one little verification and an auction house behind it, you've got multimillion dollar values flying around. This industry is such a farce.
Speaker 5One, two, three, four.
Speaker 2By day, Christian spent his hours at Polaris High Performance as a seasoned motorcycle mechanic. Tinkering with sophisticated and powerful machines was but another important element that fueled his ever-churning flow state. Christian was an artist. Painting, engineering, and playing guitar were his chosen mediums. Access to the garage also meant a space for his group to jam. His boss let them take over a neglected corner room full of tools to rehearse and store their gear. Christian's bandmates and closest friends, Laszlo and Ephraim, were the only people in the world who possessed the knowledge of his second identity. The now famous painter and social media presence, Dioptes. He trusted them without question, even relying on their help in the planning and cover-up of his missions. Why he only painted anonymously, he wasn't entirely certain. It had started out as a kind of joke, but had since taken on a life of its own. Surely it had at least something to do with the rebuke he got from his family from showing any interest in it whatsoever. Christian had received a text message from his sister.
Speaker 8CJ, Dad's lawyer needs you to come in and sign something today.
Speaker 2Only his siblings called him CJ. He hated it. He also hated being summoned to his father's citadel in the Opal Tower. Especially if he had to deal with the lawyers. After finishing his workout, Christian quickly showers, then grabs his riding jacket and helmet before heading down the five flights of stairs to the building's basement garage. It had been several months since Christian had last seen his family. He had always been the neglected seed, which didn't really bother him at all. With both his older brother and sister working full-time under him, Christian's father had all the surrounding family he needed for his grand public image. Reuben Archambo was a well-known and powerful man. Publicly, he was the president and chairman of the Footman's International Brotherhood, Charcoal City's largest construction union. Behind the facade, he was a ringleader of something else altogether. Christian was not anti-union by any means. He understood what their purpose was and why they were important to the city, but he also came to understand how corrupt and segmented they could be. His great-grandfather had migrated to Charcoal City a century ago from the south as a fugitive from the Cajun Mafia. He quickly rose up the ranks of the Brotherhood, determined to build his own empire through criminal hustles and well-placed threats. But the solidarity and welfare of his men always came first. Once he had the leadership of the Union secured, his nefarious network knew no bounds. Out of respect or fear, the Union Board has allowed the Archambo family to more or less run like a monarchy, a dynasty with no end in sight. After his father, Christian was quite certain that his brother or even his sister would take over the family business. Once reaching the garage, Christian throws on his helmet and hops onto his Ducati V four. Gerard, the foreman, and Hugo, Freddy's best construction mate, gaze at the shiny lotion-smothered skin sticker.
Speaker 6Yeah, yeah. It's nice, Fred. Now put that bandage back on. Looks great, man.
Speaker 3Thanks. I freaking love it. Hey, boss, just a reminder, I gotta take my lunch early here to go handle that workers' comp stuff for my pops.
Speaker 2Gerard watches through a window as a supply truck pulls into the yard.
Speaker 6Sure thing, Fred. Just unload this truck for me, will ya?
Speaker 2The three men head outside, where Gerard immediately lights a cigarette on the office steps. Freddy and Hugo trot down the stairs and make their way to the newly arrived truck.
Speaker 3You coming to the meeting this week? I'll be there. Lots to discuss. That's right. It's happening, Hugo. I ain't standing by to let this brotherhood turn into a crime ring. Unions serve the team, not the tyrant. They're gonna feel us. Just watch. Yeah, but when? I don't know. Soon. But it's on.
Speaker 2Freddy lifts the cargo door on the back of the supply truck to reveal a modest load of wooden crates. Hugo jumps into the back and begins tossing boxes down to his partner. As they go about their work, a black SUV pulls into the lot with tinted windows and parks right next to the truck. Out of the passenger side door, a giant muscular monstrosity with dark sunglasses steps out to survey the yard. Who is that?
Speaker 3That's the big boss's son. Bodyguard, too. We don't want to fuck with them, Fred. Yeah, whatever. Maybe he doesn't want to fuck with us.
Speaker 2The next crate Hugo passes down is unusually lighter than the others. Whoa, what the hell isn't that one? Freddy cracks the crate open to take a look. Inside are neatly packaged bricks of narcotics. Exactly what type of drugs they are, Freddie has no idea. But he knows what he is looking at. He pulls one out of the box and holds it up for his boss to see. Freddy shouts back to the office.
Speaker 3Hey boss, what the fuck is this?
Speaker 2Gerard nervously looks both ways before stomping out his cigarette and hustling down the steps toward the truck.
Speaker 6Hey boys, uh, let's not worry about this one, all right? Go ahead and uh load it back up.
Speaker 2Gerard turns to the cab of the supply truck to bark at the driver.
Speaker 6You guys are at the wrong spot. This truck is supposed to go to the north entrance. Other side. Now.
Speaker 2The foreman turns back to his men.
Speaker 6Forget about it, guys. Go ahead and take that early lunch, Fred. And say hi to your dad for me.
Speaker 2Freddy and Hugo exchange disappointed looks before pulling the cargo door back down to lock. The eye-shielded bodybuilder laughs as he climbs back into his vehicle and follows the supply truck down the dusty gravel road. Coral sits on a duct taped stool with a three-quarter full pint of Irish red. It's one of the only bars in the city open this early in the day. They cater to the post-shift night crew workers looking for an end cap to their long lonely evenings, and to the city's rowdy soccer hooligans desperate for somewhere to catch their club's football matches on European time. Today, it seems to be a bit more of the latter. A group of rowdy FC supporters are at the other end of the bar, losing their mind over a meaningless, null-null international friendly. Coral wasn't a big drinker at all, but today she needed one. Jem was supposed to meet her here any minute now to help sort out what the hell she should do with this art bomb that had just dropped in her lap. She couldn't stop thinking about how brilliant of a maneuver it was. Her respect for Dioptase had leveled up significantly. What a hilarious jab at the whole godforsaken frenzy. If she hadn't been the one to actually swoop it up from its perfectly in-plain sight hiding place, it would have been much more entertaining. Now she had to figure out just what the hell she was gonna do with it. Coral hears Jem before she sees her, shouting out a drink order before she'd even reached the adjacent open stool.
Speaker 8Bloody Mary, please!
Speaker 2The burly bartender turns away from the game, gives a slightly annoyed look, and opens a can of tomato juice.
Speaker 8Okay, so let me get this straight. You bought one of those weird paintings at the coffee shop, and it turned out to be a Dioptase? How the heck does that happen?
SpeakerI know, right? Apparently it was painted and donated to the coffee shop as some kind of experiment. It's kinda genius if you think about it. Especially right after that huge sale the other day at auction. It flips the whole concept on its head. How is a painting by the same artist on a concrete wall worth so much when thousands of people stare at a similar but smaller piece every day and stick their nose up because the price is next to nothing? It's a satire on the whole industry. I love it.
Speaker 8So are you saying your painting is worth a fortune or that the auction one is worth nothing?
SpeakerThat's exactly what's brilliant about it. Who knows? That's where the conversation starts.
Speaker 8Well, let's sell it and find out. It could be worth like a million dollars.
Speaker 2Coral notices the bartender perk up and look over in their direction. He's just finished preparing Jem's drink, placing the celery into the glass. He walks over to deliver the libation. Without asking any questions, he walks back over toward the TV.
SpeakerKeep it down, Jim. I don't want the whole world on my back.
Speaker 8Gotcha, sorry. So why wouldn't you sell it? Ooh, we could finally take that trip to Cambodia.
SpeakerI don't know. It doesn't feel right. What would my reputation be as an artist if I just up and sold it off like that? I don't want to be part of the clown show. Besides, it's not like I have a desperate family to take care of or anything. I live a perfectly comfortable life. I've got everything I need.
Speaker 2Jem takes out her phone and opens up Mosaic to look at the post from Dioptees.
Speaker 8So that's it. That's it. I guess it is pretty great. How fascinating.
Speaker 2The first half of the soccer match playing on the television comes to an end, and the small group of spectators slowly begin to spread throughout the establishment. Some head to the bathroom, others to the patio to have a halftime cigarette. The broadcast moves away from the game and begins to air a flurry of commercials. The bartender grabs the remote and flips to the local news until the game starts back up. Once reaching the channel, he puts down the remote and starts drying some glasses with the towel.
SpeakerWe can still do Cambodia. I'll take a few extra clients this month. No sweat. What time of year do you buy an eyewitness from yesterday's mystery painting sale?
Speaker 2Coral drifts off mid-sentence when she sees a familiar face on the TV. It's the barista from the coffee shop, talking to a reporter.
Speaker 7Yeah, it had been up there for like a long time. And finally, this girl, or I guess lady, I don't know, she just bought it yesterday.
Speaker 2Coral's stomach starts to turn. She's now realizing that her world might get flipped on its head if this went public. She is instantly regretting buying that damn painting. The Channel 7 News reporter asks the charismatic barista another question.
Speaker 7And do you have any record of who this person was? No, I didn't get her name. Um, but she had some cool highlights in her hair and lots of pretty tattoos. And I think maybe her nose was pierced.
SpeakerHurry up and finish your drink. I think we should go soon.
Speaker 8Okay, okay. Look here. This article on mosaic says the buyer of the $2.5 million auction wall art wants to make an offer to the owner of the most recent Dioptease reveal.
SpeakerFuck.
Speaker 8Oh, come on. It says to call this number or come to their office in the Opal Tower. That's only like four blocks away from here. I'll go with you. I'll even represent you. You gotta at least get an offer. That way, even if you don't want to sell it, you can brag about how much money you turned down.
SpeakerI don't know, Jim. This is all happening too quickly. I don't like it.
Speaker 8Come on! It'll be fine. Just trust me. Please.
SpeakerUgh, fine. But only because I've got a beer's worth of courage in me now.
Speaker 8Hell yeah! Let's go.
Speaker 2The women leave more than enough cash on the bar to pay for their drinks and hurry out the door. The bartender walks over to pick up the money. After placing the empty glasses in the sink, he reaches for his cell phone under the bar and begins to send off a text message.
Speaker 8Sam McMorris.
Speaker 3Ronald G. Lefko, Scott Wyke, Connor Hur.
Speaker 8Melissa Jones, Tara Kempton, Molly Lynch, and Casey Johnston.