A few days later, Marlene chalked up her late night meeting with Oliver Masterson as a figment of her overactive imagination. ‘If they really needed me, they would’ve made contact with me already. And besides, what do I know about being a spook? And if I really wanted to, would I want to work for the bad guys? This Masterson cat made it sound as thought Section Seven (stupid name to begin with) was all shady and mysterious and shit. He came across like he was Wilson, Sydney’s own recruiter into SD-6, and we all know how that turned out,” she reassured herself for what seemed like the millionth time. All of the internal conversations Marlene had been having all began and ended the same way, with her turning down some lucrative anti-American spying deal with this black bag intelligence agency called Section Seven. Marlene had even gone as far as calling the numbers on ol’ Oliver’s card. The local land line number led to a nonexistent pet shop and the cell phone number led to a clock repair shop that had gone out of business years ago. Marlene felt like an ass. She realized that Section Seven was monitoring calls made to those voice mailboxes. She had fallen for the first rule a potential new recruit could ever violate: “if we say we’re gonna call you, we’ll call you.”

“Penny for your thoughts,” Noelle Rodriguez said, as a familiar wind blew her psychology textbook back a few pages. Marlene’s best friend grinned at her, as she slammed her hand down to prevent further windy upset to her textbook.

“Penny? How about a $20? I need gas for my car,” Marlene heaved, leaning her back on the broke down wooden table set up strategically away from the busy student center thoroughfare.

“I ain’t got a $20. I think I got a dollar though,” Noelle joked, looking over the question list and sighing. “Distract me, M. I’m tired of thinking. Speak now or I’ll implode,” her best friend demanded.

Marlene took in the traffic of skates, bikes, humans and cars, each going in a million directions, over the quad area that served as the center of the campus. ‘Such foolish people. They don’t realize people are willing to risk their lives so they can enjoy this kind of freedom,’ she thought, shaking her head sadly.

“You’re shaking your head. Are you talking to inner Marlene again?” Noelle guessed correctly with a goofy grin.

“I can’t help the fact that the conversations I have with my conscience are more real than with a typical human being. Well, save for you, N,” Marlene explained.

Noelle shook her own head, finally shutting her psych book long enough to take in the same scene Marlene was. Through their uneventful six year friendship, Noelle had learned quickly that Marlene was an extremely internal person and was not quick to share her secrets. If she needed the voice in her head to work out problems that normal people would voice, Noelle accepted that.

“What if someone came up to you and said you, and you alone, had the power to save the free world, but all you had to do was say yes. Would you?” Marlene spilled suddenly.

Noelle paused, not wanting to find out why her friend would ask such a thing. “No. I wouldn’t want that burden. On the other hand, if I were you and I had your brains, I’d probably say sure, why not?”

Marlene glanced at her. “What makes you say that?” she dared to ask.

“M,” Noelle said, in her no-nonsense voice. “What were you doing every night I wanted you to party with us, huh?”

Marlene blushed. “Studying Latin and game theory. But need I remind you, I barely graduated with our class!”

Noelle shook her head. “We all know why, Marlene. You were the victim of a pathetic education system. The material we were learning was beneath you, so you went ahead and taught yourself to speak three foreign languages. Well, five, but your mom taught you to speak Filipino when you were a kid, and you took French in school anyways,” Noelle finished up.

“Tagalog,” Marlene corrected her half-heartedly. But she knew that her best friend was right. Public school had lost its gilded shine when she entered the battleground known as high school. Life, by then, had also lost its glitter. Marlene was reduced to a stereotypical angst-y teen: suicidal, angry, hater of life and everything positive. Over time, and writing about it all (her therapy and now her major), she worked through her negative outlook on life and grew up. All of her life, Marlene was into random and unusual subjects. She had penchant for vampires, after reading an old book chronicling their history up until modern times and knew several ways how to kill them. As she grew older, her choice of topics to study became more sophisticated, such as cryptology and game theory. She was researching Nazi medical experiments for a presentation she was delivering in sophomore English class, and she came across them both. When Marlene set her sights on something, she devoured everything she could about it. She may not ever be tested on it in a school setting or even use it successfully in a real life situation, but if she absolutely had to, she could probably draft a plausible and logical situation using game theory. All of this comes with the territory of being a misguided child genius. Intelligent enough to be the smartest kid in class, but still too sub par for advance placement schools.

“How goes it ladies?” the warm voice of Josh Simmons careened into Marlene’s ear, breaking her train of thought.

“Hey Josh,” Noelle said turning back to her books on the Table (as they called their daily lunch spot).

“Hey,” Marlene called, half-heartedly following Noelle’s lead and resting her arms on the paint chipped wood.

“Guess what’s playing at the Garrison this week?” Josh asked tantalizingly.

“What?” the girls asked in unison.

“The Apartment!” he exclaimed, slamming his pudgy fists against the table and upsetting Marlene’s closed water bottle.

Noelle’s eyes nearly bugged out of her head. “Hear that M?” Noelle said excitedly, eager to get her friend’s mind off whatever she was thinking and pushing Marlene’s arm pointedly. “A young Shirley MacLaine!”

Josh grinned, happy with their reactions. “And a young Jack Lemmon and Fred MacMurray!” he added.

“We’ll go! When?” Noelle asked happily. If there was one thing that united them as friends, other than anime, it was classic movies. Marlene was a huge fan of Billy Wilder’s and the Apartment was at the top of her list.

“Friday at six,” Josh said, sitting down and ripping open the tuna fish sandwich he had just bought and a vending machine bottle of Pepsi.

“Oh,” Noelle’s face fell. “I’m working until nine that night. Aw man,” she pouted.

“Ha ha!” Marlene laughed like Nelson from the Simpsons. “I can still go!”

Josh grinned. “Cool. I’ll pick you up at five. We’ll get something to eat before,” said Josh, watching her expression.

“I can’t. I got a class until 5:30. But I can meet you right before,” she offered, taking in the people scene again.

“Okay,” he said, looking slightly put out. Marlene didn’t notice. She had already descended back into her spook-powered funk.

After a quiet week of class after class, an anime marathon and lunches with her best friends, driving Lily to and from her various extra-curricular activities, and other menial moments that were supposed to give her life a purpose, Marlene had all but forgotten her meeting with Oliver. In fact, she was beginning to think it was someone’s idea of a sick joke. Dress up some random guy like a government suit, give him a business card, and plant an idea so fantastic as to fool a gullible young woman. Marlene kept having to remind herself of that because it was too unreal. But she was tired of over thinking. Fran and Baxter were waiting for her at the Garrison Theater. Josh was milling around outside of the old-fashioned classic movie palace, restored by generous anonymous donations.

“Hey!” she called warmly, tucking her keys into her shoulder bag.

“Hey!” Josh said eagerly. Marlene shivered against the all-too-familiar cold and asked, “Did you buy the tickets already?”

Josh nodded. “Duh,” he joked, waving them in her face.

“Allez-y!” she told him cheerily, walking towards the entrance.

“Geez Marlene, what have I told you? Just ‘cause I’m French doesn’t mean you have to speak it around me!” Josh teased her while she laughed at the top of her lungs.

Marlene quickly became lost in the finely executed thread of storytelling that was Billy Wilder’s trademark. So when her Motorola began bumping “Smooth Criminal,” she jumped, feeling a bit stupid she forgot to put it on silent. Dipping her thin fingers into her bag, she pulled the 7120 out. It was flashing a number she didn’t recognize.

“Who is it?” Josh whispered, tearing his eyes away from the screen briefly.

“I don’t know,” Marlene said, staring at it.

“Excuse me!” someone yelled rudely behind them. “Can you shut that off please?” Marlene hesitated for another second.

“Hey! Shut up!” Josh yelled over his shoulder.

“You shut up!” the voice replied shrilly, as Marlene unfolded the phone and pressed it to her ear.

“Okay! Are we in grade school again?” Josh screamed, raising himself up on his arms to glare at the rabble-rouser, as they continued their war of words over the seats.

“Sounds bloody noisy in there,” Oliver’s familiar voice said cheerfully. “Meet me in the lobby?” Marlene’s heart plummeted into her stomach.

“Christ, the nerve of some people,” Josh said conspiratorially, before noticing the look on Marlene’s face. His argument ended when another patron had alerted one of the ushers to the loudmouth who had started the shouting match. “What’s up?” Marlene shook her head soundlessly.

“Tell him it’s your mom calling. Your grandfather is sick and you have to leave right away,” Oliver instructed. The line went dead. Marlene nodded into the phone.

“My Grandpa Tony is sick. It’s my mom and she says we have to leave for the Bay tonight,” Marlene said, sounding slightly put-out, hoping her acting skills would be convincing enough. She hadn’t used them since her last performance in high school.

Josh’s smile faded. “But the movie’s not even halfway done yet,” he complained, “but it’s your grandpa.” He seemed a little put-out about the call.

Marlene looked at him with a mock sadness and said, “I’m sorry. Look, I’ll make it up to you when I get back, ‘kay? I gotta go. Thanks Josh!” she said, trying to make a smooth exit, which was difficult because she was trying to haul her coat, put her cell in the purse she was trying to close, and climb over several pairs of people’s legs. She cursed the moment she had chosen the middle of the busy theater to enjoy the movie. Dressed as a casual civilian in jeans, a t-shirt, and a white parka, Oliver’s smile greeted a harried-feeling Marlene.

“Grandpa’s waiting for us,” he said readily, without a hint of the British accent that she had replayed over and over in her mind. Marlene played along and smiled.

“Let’s go,” she said gesturing, leading the way into the parking lot.

“We’ll take your car,” Oliver said from the corner of his mouth, while they made their way to the downtown parking garage. Marlene quickly moved to her car on the third level. She wasn’t sure if it would be okay for her to speak, so she chose not to. Oliver dutifully walked by her side, glancing at every person they encountered.

“Just drive as if you were going to San Francisco,” he instructed her.

I went to visit family and friends in California last month, and I’m just now getting to uploading a few select photos.

“I’m running a little late, Ma. Our class got tied up in a debate over a movie we watched, but I can pick up Lily,” Marlene Griffith said into her blue Motorola phone. “What? Yeah, I remembered… Ma! Ma, I gotta go! I forgot where I parked. Tell Lily I’ll pick her up. Yeah, okay, yeah. Bye.” Marlene had finished her History of Cinema class forty-five minutes late because of a light-hearted shouting match over some trivial scene in Nosferatu, which ended in Professor Bob the Bachelor (as they liked to call him) replaying the same scene over and over again several times to prove his point. After leaving class, she began walking in the general direction of where she was she sure she had parked her white dinged-up Nissan Sentra (a hand-me-down from one of her aunts), when her cell phone rang. It was her mother Maylene, demanding to know where she was. Her little sister Lily had an after school rehearsal for the fall drama at her high school and was wondering who was picking her up from there because she was cold. Maylene reamed her for not leaving her cell phone on, which Marlene resignedly explained that it was still rude in this day and age to do so. By the time she hung up the phone, she realized she had parked her car in another lot that day and, with a sigh, made her way back across campus.

Shivering against the chilly breeze that kicked up the loose leaves falling from the brown trees, Marlene’s mind was wandering, as it often did when she made her lonely treks to and from point A to point B. She pulled her zippered black sweater tighter around her generous chest and thought (for some reason) about her father. Adrian Warner Griffith died when Marlene was only four. For all the fleeting memories she had of her father, she had even less photos. Her favorite was a close-up Maylene had taken of him a year before he passed away. His surfer boy blonde hair, brooding but playful dark blue eyes, and pale skin. Marlene caught a glimpse of herself as she passed the Fairview Community College auditorium doors. Her layered dark brown hair, her brown, almost hazel eyes and curvy body. Her eyes traveled back to watch the concrete as she walked when she thought fleetingly of her mixed background. Adrian was German-American and her mom was Filipino-American.

The campus was essentially deserted at this time of night, save for a few stragglers or people waiting around for their own night classes. The student center had been closed for hours. Walking past the darkened library, Marlene suddenly got the overwhelming feeling that she was being watched. Her hurried pace slowed to an amble, as she silently took in her surroundings. A pale ring of light from a bug-infested overhead lamp didn’t help much, as Marlene cast her eyes towards the shadows that loomed around the ten foot ring of light. Not wholly satisfied with her lack of results, she decided to keep on walking, her hands clutched tightly around the tiny, black handled retractable knife she kept on her key ring. In reflection, she knew it wouldn’t cause much damage, but if she knew her cop shows, it would allow her a chance to get even a sliver of evidence against this unseen attacker. Her mother had made her paranoid enough to believe that you should never be afraid of the dark, only what’s hiding in it.

After walking for a few more minutes, she finally saw her beat up car alone in the farthest parking lot away from her class, a beacon of escape from the terrors the night held, under a buzzing streetlamp. Breathing a sigh of relief, she removed her keys from the confines of her pocket.

“Miss Griffith?” an unfamiliar male voice questioned her from behind.

“Ahh!” Marlene gasped, spinning around and unfurling the cheap knife. A man slightly older than her, dressed in a generic navy blue suit, white shirt, and bland black tie smiled warmly at her. His eyes traveled briefly to the puny knife before grinning at her again.

“If I wanted to attack you, I would’ve done so behind the library,” he said, with a hint of a faded British accent, “you’ve got a lot to learn, kid.” Marlene was floored, to say the least.

“I’m sorry. Who are you again?” she asked, still not putting the knife away.

“Oliver Masterson, Section Seven,” he said, removing a thin card from the confines of his jacket. Marlene almost reached out to touch it but thought better of it. She had once seen a movie where a girl touched something as small as a business card and she started tripping off the drugs that were on it. Loosening her sweater’s right arm to cover her right hand, she gingerly reached out and grasped the card. Like any typical business card, it gave the man’s name, contact information, and place of business.

“Section Seven? Is that like SD-6?” Marlene asked stupidly, rereading the card several times.

“No… and yes,” Oliver replied obscurely. Marlene had seen too many spy flicks and read too many spook novels to not come to the conclusion that this guy was some sort of secret agent. For all intents and purposes, this was beginning to feel like a scene from a well-worn spy novel.

“I can tell by the look on your face you’re wondering why I’m approaching you like this,” Oliver began, watching her face expectantly.

“Well, yes,” Marlene replied, her hand that was holding the knife lowering to rest at her side.

“I’ve been tasked to prepare you to go undercover for Section Seven as soon as you’re trained up a bit,” said Oliver.

Marlene raised an eyebrow. “You’ve got to be kidding me!” she blurted out rudely. Oliver pressed his lips together in a wry smile.

“Afraid not, kid. Look, I wouldn’t even be here, disrupting your life like this, if we didn’t need you. If the powers that be didn’t think you were ready for something like this. Of course, if we had it my way we wouldn’t even bother you until you were out of uni, but c’est la vie.”

Marlene’s facial expression slowly turned from instant surprise to utterly mystified, before she nodded her head knowingly. “I’m on some hidden camera show right, ‘cause if it is, you can come out now!” Marlene called in a sing-song voice over Oliver’s shoulder. Her call was greeted by the sounds of the leaves rustling and the buzz from the street lamp overhead. Her eyes guiltily returned to Oliver’s, who didn’t look the least bit upset, though a bit perturbed by all these disruptions she was causing.

“You’ll notice that even though you told them to come out, there are no cameras are around you,” he explained wryly. Marlene’s shoulders sank. “I know it’s a bit overwhelming for you now, but why don’t you sleep on it? I know you have to pick up Lily from school,” he added.

Marlene nodded, picking up on what he wasn’t saying. “Ri-ight. You’re a secret government agency, so you must know, like everything about me already,” Marlene offered.

Oliver chuckled. “Secret, yes. Government, not quite,” he said cryptically. The genial man made a move to leave before a question popped into Marlene’s head.

“Wait. If I suddenly decide I want to do this, how do I contact you? Do I call one of these numbers?” she asked, waving the card around.

“No. We’ll find you,” he said simply. “Okay, but…” she said, her eyes traveling to the card again before looking up. Oliver Masterson had disappeared. Before she could question it again, her phone rang again.

“Marlene!” Lily’s worried voice came over the phone line.

“Alright!! I’m on my way!” Marlene said, quickly disarming the alarm to her car and throwing the card and her backpack into the backseat openly and flooring it out of the parking lot.

After almost 10 years of beginning the series, I have decided to post the first two novellas of the Understudy series to my portfolio officially. A chapter of Operation Opening Night & Operation Sleeping Beauty will be available to read every Tuesday until they’re fully and completely posted. I’m excited. Expect the first post as soon as I post this.

I am developing the rest of the series. I’ve got some great ideas for 8 novellas that will explore everything in the world I created. I just need to flesh them out. Life lit a fire under me and I had a sudden urge to want to finish Marlene’s story. It diverges significantly by the third novella, but I’m not going to give much away, haha. I am debating on whether to release it here for free, or try and make some moola on it by releasing it to Kindle. Who knows? It’ll be up to the readers.

With that said, please please please recommend the series to your friends! And let me know you want more. I just might oblige.