There was a smear of gold body paint on the black steering wheel.
Mauricio Serrio almost sideswiped a parked off-duty fire truck trying to wipe it off while doing 45 miles per hour getting some sales rep from the Westin to DTW.
Mauricio didn’t want anyone, not even some out of town software peddler to know he was The Human Statue.
Mauricio did the Bronze Man in the summer at Hart Plaza, Lady Liberty in the winter during big conventions and sporting events because the costume was warmer, and drove an Uber.
Nobody ever recognized him out of costume.
The Bronze Man was mostly body paint and a loin cloth and got way better tips than Lady Liberty.
It’s hard to stay motionless for forty five minutes at a time.
It’s really hard to go back out there and do it when people get in your Uber in front of the plaza and say shit like “I’m glad that statue freak wasn’t there tonight, that guy creeps me out.”
Mauricio was pulling onto 94, realizing he should never again be The Bronze Man.
That bodypaint remnant should be the last, he hoped.
The sales rep said something and Mauricio hoped it was to a Bluetooth and not to him.
Wondered if he even wanted to do Lady Liberty again.
Was he done?
Was the runner up Mr. Northern Indiana Physique going to ever be a statue again?
The sales rep said “Really, brother man, you can slow down. I’m just headed for the Delta Sky Lounge, not the sky itself, for hours.”
Mauricio looked at the speedometer.
He slowed without saying a word.
He looked at the odometer.
Might be able to trade this car in.
Like on his way back from the airport.
Mauricio smiled, then gagged.
He had news radio on. Didn’t want music.
Cazzie La Fond had the number one hit right now, nudged Taylor down to number two.
Three weeks ago, as The Bronze Man was leaving Hart Plaza, a man approached.
Said he worked for Cazzie. Cazzie had seen the Bronze Man since she was a teenager, wanted him to perform at her party at her mansion in Boston Edison.
“I suppose you need my bank information to make this happen, huh?” Mauricio said.
Guy handed him a round business card, looked like it had glitter on it.
“Legit. You gotta call me, I’ll set up a meeting with Will. he runs her business affairs.It’ll be a great party.”
Mauricio called the next morning.
Met with Will at a sushi place in Bingham Farms.
Will made a deposit to Mauricio’s Venmo right then, after Mauricio signed a five page NDA.
Showed up at the mansion on the agreed Saturday night.
Did The Bronze Man next to an ice sculpture of a penguin playing a harp with one flipper and deejaying a three turntable rig with the other flipper.
It’s really hard to stay motionless when you want to laugh.
Mauricio knew there would be drunk party guests. He knew people would pry his fingers apart to make him hold their drinks.
He knew his butt would get grabbed, just couldn’t believe how often it happened.
Cazzie posed for pictures with him.
She seemed like she was enjoying the party, but like it almost seemed detached from her.
She didn’t grab Mauricio’s butt, but thanked him profusely and told him he was gorgeous.
The Bronze Man doesn’t smile or react.
Cazzie sold out Little Caesar’s Arena five nights in a row, so the Bronze Man treated her to a wink.
At 1am his performance was contractually over.
Sebastian, the man he met in the plaza, led him upstairs to his dressing room.
Will was there.
Sebastian closed the door behind him as he left.
Any performer feels like a different person in their costume, their wardrobe. It’s a buffer. The world is somehow not real.
The Bronze Man stood in an opulent guest bedroom in a mansion as a pop singer’s business manager asked him if he may do some very specific things to very specific parts of The Bronze Man.
Mauricio Ivan Serrio would have responded with some very aggressive negatives.
The Bronze Man said, with a nervous laugh, “That’ll cost ya.”
Without agreeing to an exact price, but with an effortless outlay of an amount of cash that seemed more fictional to Mauricio than a penguin with three turntables, The Bronze Man became the business manager’s plaything.
Mauricio wasn’t sure the game was entirely over, when he pulled the plug on it and found his way out the door and into the street.
On top of the cash Mauricio received that night, another deposit had been made into Mauricio’s Venmo account.
He wasn’t sure if it was Will showing gratitude or remorse.
Mauricio felt like he might be able to do Lady Liberty again.
He would have to remain motionless, and silent.
But The Bronze Man was dead, forever.
When Mauricio heard the sales rep in the back seat bark, he knew, for the second time that week, that he had missed his exit.
***
Love it!! Real human stories.
Nice. This story captures much. It is adventurous, gives us a window into Mauricio, and conveys experiences common enough to be real but uncommon enough to be new to most readers.