Reign (38 page)

So again, she thought to herself, she would take the coward's way out. She would avoid the confrontation. She would hide.

~ * ~

If she had known with what disappointment Dennis Hamilton heard of her absence, she would have been considerably cheered.

Dennis had begun the morning feeling radiant. He was to meet with Mack
Redcay
, a young set designer whose sprawling, passionate scenery had been the only thing the critics (and Dennis) had liked about the previous fall's "big musical," which, to everyone's amazement, was still running on the basis of advance ticket sales, but was rumored to be closing in early April.

Redcay
had agreed to design
Craddock
, and had come to Kirkland that morning on a six o'clock commuter flight which Sid met at the Philadelphia Airport. Dennis,
Redcay
, and Curt breakfasted in Dennis's suite, and afterward they went down to the theatre to show the designer the stage. They were joined there by Evan, who had copies of the stage blueprints for
Redcay
, and by Donna Franklin, who had brought
Redcay's
contracts down from the office.

"Where's Ann?" Dennis asked her, as he had expected she would be the one to run that particular errand.

"She called in sick today."

"Anything serious?" he said, trying to sound only vaguely interested and failing miserably.

"She didn't say — just that she felt under the weather."

Dennis nodded and turned his attention back to
Redcay
and the stage, hoping there was nothing really wrong, and yet selfishly hoping that there was, for he could not bear the thought of Ann wanting to stay away from him.

The rest of the morning was spent touring the stage, exploring the flies (Evan, Dennis noticed, seemed reluctant to ascend), examining the area beneath, and endlessly going over the blueprints.
Redcay
seemed a quiet, almost sullen man, but his store of questions was endless, and before anyone realized it, it was time for lunch.

They decided to take
Redcay
to the Kirkland Inn, and were walking through the theatre lobby when they saw Terri Deems. She was carrying a small, green canvas bag that Dennis assumed held her lunch, and smiled at him knowingly when she saw him. "Dennis?" she said. "May I speak to you for a minute?"

Her sly smile indicated to him that she knew precisely what was going on between him and her mother.
So what was this to be then?
he wondered.
A case of premature nepotism?
He felt more than a trifle wary as he told the others he would only be a moment. "What is it, Terri?" he said softly, not wishing the others only a few yards away to hear.

She gave a little laugh. "I just wanted to make sure that, despite what happened last night, you don't think too badly of me."

What was she talking about? "I'm sorry, I . . . last night?"

"I'm not usually that easily . . . won over," she said, as though he understood perfectly what she meant. "I guess I've always had kind of a schoolgirl thing for you. And I was flattered that you'd feel
that
way about me."

"Terri, please . . . I'm not sure what you mean."

Now her laugh was marred with disbelief. "God, how quickly they forget. Last night? The two of us? In the costume shop?"

He shook his head, feeling as though he had been displaced in time. Was the girl insane? Had his affair with her mother somehow unbalanced her? "I wasn't in the costume shop last night — I didn't see you at all last night."

Now the look on her face was one of sheer exasperation. "Why are you doing this?" she said, raising her voice. "You get a kick out of playing with all the help?"

"Please,
Teni
," he said. "Keep your voice down. I have no idea what this is all about, but whatever it is, can we talk about it later?"

"I like this job too much to lose it," she said, her voice boiling with anger. "So if last night was what I had to do to keep it, okay. But don't look for a repeat performance,
Mr
. Hamilton, and don't think my mother doesn't know about this either. And if you try to have me fired, I'll have you in court on a sexual harassment charge so fast it'll make your head spin. And maybe I'll throw in rape for good measure."

"Look, Terri, please —"

"Because I have no pride, none at all — I think I proved
that
last night!"

She spun away from him and ran through the doors to the stairway, leaving
Redcay
and Curt puzzled, Evan furious, and Dennis stunned. He could only stand and stare, terribly confused, at the door through which she had vanished. The next thing he felt was Evan's arm on his shoulder, pulling him around to face his son.

"Looks like your reputation's spreading, isn't it?" Evan said in a harsh whisper, anger in his eyes. "Guess I'm not the only kid who's a little pissed about what his parent is doing." Then he turned and ran too, in the opposite direction from Terri.

Dennis, breathing heavily, saw Curt and Mack
Redcay
, their faces pale and uncertain. He
willed
himself to calm, and addressed Curt. "Before we go down to the Inn, give them a call, Curt, and tell them it will be a party of
three
today."

~ * ~

Lunch was not the disaster Dennis had feared it would be. Mack
Redcay
was a professional, and, outwardly at least, had dismissed whatever interpersonal relationships plagued the Venetian Theatre as none of his affair. The talk quickly returned to set designs and the capability of the theatre's stage to house the impressive ideas
Redcay
was considering. Dennis's attention seemed to be on the conversation, but he let Curt carry the weight of it. In truth, his mind was focused on Terri Deems and what he was supposed to have done with her in the costume shop the previous night.

At least Evan had not overheard the words, only the tone of Terri's voice, and
had assumed that she was deriding Dennis for seeing her mother. Best to leave it at that. If the boy had even suspected that Dennis had done . . . what Terri seemed to be accusing him of doing, there would be no end to it.

But damn it, Dennis knew what he had done the previous night — he had watched the videocassette of Olivier's
Othello
with Sid, all two and a half hours of it, then had played a couple of hands of gin, said goodnight, and gone to bed. He had been nowhere near the costume shop. So what was the girl talking about?

It hit him as he finished his soup. Maybe, just maybe, Terri was telling the truth. Maybe it was the Emperor she had seen. It seemed so obvious that he was amazed he hadn't thought of it the moment she began to speak of things that could not be.

The Emperor. In the costume shop with Terri. And that meant that he was not an hallucination, not a mere figment of Dennis's imagination, but was real, real enough for another person to see him and speak to him and — what else?

But no, that would have been impossible. What he had seen was no more corporeal than a ghost. His hand had passed right through it. How could it have been capable of what Terri had implied?

Then the hardest thought of all struck him. What if The Emperor, like all good actors, was a liar?

What if, like all the characters ever created, he was, himself, a lie?

That evening, Terri Deems stormed into the family room, where her mother was sitting pretending to watch the huge television screen. "He's yours again, mother. I give him back to you."

"What?" Ann said weakly, in no mood to argue. Her day alone had been agony, and she had decided that the wisest thing would have been for her to go to work. There, at least, there would have been other things to occupy her thoughts.

"Your handsome, aging lover. You can have him back. I rescind all previous claims. He may have had my body, but he no longer has my heart, if he ever did."

"Why are you doing this?" she asked quietly. "Why do you keep playing this game?"

"Because it's no game — it's true — and you damn well ought to know what kind of person you've gotten yourself involved with. He denied all knowledge of what he and I did last night, pretended it never happened. I mean, the man is an absolute shit. I've learned my lesson, I hope you've learned yours." She sat down on the couch next to Ann and grabbed her by the shoulders. "It's the truth, mother. I swear to God, he screwed me last night. And boy, did he ever screw me
today
. . ."

Terri flopped back on the couch, looked at the ceiling, and closed her eyes. "I don't hate you, mother," she said in a quieter voice. "If I hated you, I wouldn't give a damn. I'd let you go on your merry way to hell." She sighed and stood up. "Just don't let what you think is love blind you to the ugly truth. Besides, he's not a very generous lay, is he? Or was your experience less sordid than mine? . . . Not talking? Okay then. Do what you want — maybe you can screw
him
to death too!" She ran out of the room without looking back.

Ann sat there for a moment, her eyes on the pastel images of the screen across the room, her mind filled to bursting. Screwed him to death? Eddie? Is that what she really believed, that her mother had killed her father? Is that what had come from that nightmare evening when Terri had burst into the bedroom in answer to Ann's screams?

It was a sick and ugly and horrid thought, and Ann realized that her daughter, in spite of the outward signs of maturity, was, in ways that mattered, really little more than a child. At that moment she wanted nothing more than to hold her little girl.

But she could not bring herself to go to her. She was too afraid, afraid of Terri's harsh words, afraid of even more rejection. "You coward," she whispered to herself. "Oh God, you coward . . .”

She had to prove to herself that she was brave, at least in some way. So she picked up the remote, turned off the set, and lifted the telephone handset. Dennis answered on the fourth ring.

"Dennis, it's Ann."

"Ann, how
are
you? I wanted to call you, but I've been tied up with Mack
Redcay
all day."

"I'm fine, Dennis." Far better, she thought, to get her own duplicity out of the way. "I didn't want to come in today, that's all." There was silence on the other end of the line, and she wondered,
now what? Do I see if he'll run with the ball, or should I just tell him?

He took the burden from her. "Did Terri tell you about anything . . . something that happened last night?"

"Yes. She did."

"What exactly?"

"She told me that you had seduced her."

Ann heard him give a long sigh. "Honest to God, I don't know what she means. She implied the same thing to me today. Ann, I never even saw her last night." She didn't speak. "Ann, listen to me — I've waited for you for so many years, do you think I'd destroy it all by seducing your daughter? Even if I wanted to, which I don't. You know there'd be no way to keep it a secret. I would never be that stupid." He paused for a moment, then spoke more quietly, tenderly. "And I would never do that to you. Believe me. Please."

"I do," she said, and it was the truth. "I do believe you, Dennis. But Terri . . ." She was near tears. "What shall I do about Terri?"

"I don't know, Ann. I really don't. What if we both sat down and talked to her? Got everything out in the open, told her about the way we feel toward each other, what our plans were."

"No, Dennis, no. You don't know Terri. She's not ready to hear that. And I don't think she's ready to deny what she said." It was an excuse. The simple truth was that Ann was not up to another scene with Terri, not yet, particularly not with Dennis present. "Let's just give it some time."

"All right then. Whatever you think best. As long as you know the truth. And the truth is that I love you, and would never do anything to hurt you. Or Terri."

"I know that."

"Will I see you tomorrow?"

"Yes. I'll be there." There seemed nothing more to say. "Goodnight, Dennis.”

“Goodnight."

~ * ~

(
DENNIS hangs up the phone and sits quietly for a moment. He sighs deeply, stands, and turns to see THE EMPEROR, dressed exactly as DENNIS is, standing stage left by the entrance to the hallway
.)

I'm afraid I've caused quite a little contretemps.

Jesus . . . you're here.

And where should I be, if not near my creator? I owe you a slight apology. I'm afraid that I embarrassed you with the ladies.

Last night . . . with Terri. It was
you
.

It was. Her loveliness quite overcame my better judgment.

But how could you . . . (
He pauses, uncertain how to put it
.)

Seduce her, being intangible? I seduced her with words alone, my dear friend. No matter how desirous I might have been to possess her sweet young body . . . (
He places his hand into the wall
.) . . . it would have been quite impossible to do so. Much to my regret, I might add. So I was only able to make love to her with my tongue.