Where the Truth Lies (43 page)

The front right window rolled down and Dominic said, “They’re putting through your call, Mr. Morris.”

Lanny reached into the car and pulled the phone just beyond the window, as far as its coiled cord would stretch. He said, “Hello, Vince? It’s me.”

“You don’t have to tell Vince about this,” I whispered. “It was between you and me, it was a private matter.”

He looked at me as if I were truly demented. “Don’t be ridiculous.” He turned back to the phone. “Listen, Monsieur Collins, I wanted to pay upon you like a personal visit. Oh, say in three minutes, that okay?” He listened to Vince. “Has it beenthat long, really? My, how time flies when time flies. Yeah, I know. Uh-huh.” Vince said something that caused Lanny to react. “Oh, she’s coming by? You mean the one who’s writing your book? What’s her name, Bonnie Something? Oh. No, for some reason I thought her name was Bonnie, I have no idea why.” He gave me a condescending glance, enjoying himself. “Yeah, well, I won’t be staying. Just had something I wanted to drop off. Yeah, Captain Mysterious, that’s me.”

He handed the phone back to the driver and gestured for me to reenter the limo. Was there any way out of this? If I ran away, what would happen? Lanny would tell Vince anyway. Better I tell him my side of it before Lanny poisoned his mind completely. Another car slowly maneuvered its way around us, a convertible. It was driven by an elderly woman with a gaunt, unattractive face; she’d had plastic surgery around her mouth that had not gone right. How pleased she would be, I thought, if she knew quite how much I wished I were her right now. I wished I were anyone but me.

As we headed up between the white stacked rocks, Lanny looked as if he was debating with himself. Finally he spoke, in a very different tone than before.

“Listen, now I know you think you’re smart, and you are, although not as smart as you think. That’s okay. But in the unlikely event that you have any further dealings with our friend Vince, I want you to be very careful how smart you try to get with him. Because I’ll tell you something now: Vince is not that swift. I realize he’s intelligent, sensitive—I’m even told he’s well read these days. But let me tell you, Vince doesn’t always do what’s best for him. He just wants problems taken care of with quick fixes without considering the consequences. And like you, he thinks he’s a lot smarter than he really is.”

It was a ridiculous statement coming from a jealous man. The limousine had reached Vince’s gate. Dominic pushed the button on the intercom and gave Lanny’s name. The gate opened and here we were, rested after a brief intermission and a short lecture, ready and eager for Act Two ofThe Worst Day of My Life.

Through the windshield I saw Vince step out from the sheltered courtyard. He was wearing a nice navy blue suit and club tie, the first time I’d seen him dressed that way. I thought it an odd outfit for a resumption of our interviews.

From the backseat, Lanny murmured to himself with not one drop of sarcasm, “Wow. Vince Collins. Looking pretty damn good there, pal.” He turned to me. “Listen, you stay here for a minute. I haven’t seen him in over a dozen years and I don’t know if we’ll ever see each other again, so I’d rather not start out with you as the primary topic of conversation.” He didn’t wait for my response but got out of the limo, saying to the driver, “See she stays put, Dom.” Lanny slammed the door shut and I heard the locks in the doors click. I gently tried opening my door, but Dominic must have had an overriding power lock. I could do nothing but watch this historic meeting through tinted windows and try to read their lips.

They stood and looked at each other. Lanny mouthed, “Hello, Vince.” Vince apparently replied, “Hi, Lanny.” There they were, one in tuxedo, the other in dark suit and tie; they used to wear matching tuxes or suits when performing in nightclubs or replicating that mode of performance on TV. It was strange to see them stand this long together with neither doing anything funny.

So far this summit meeting wasn’t exactly Stalin and F.D.R. at Yalta. It looked like Lanny may have said, “I’m glad you’re doing so well.” Vince offered something pleasant back. They both laughed. Then the discussion seemed to grow more serious. Lanny asked a question. Vince looked down at his shoes and replied, shaking his head.

I rapped on the divider window and Dom turned around. I called out, “Do you have any drinking water in the car?” I made a hacking coughing sound. He shook his head no and turned back around. What a sweetie.

I coughed three more times, and on the last long cough, I toggled the button for my window. It slid down one-third of the way before I stopped. Dom didn’t seem to notice. I strained to hear the boys.

“I know, but I’ve got it covered.” (This was Vince.)

“How’s the drinking these days?”

“The drinking is doing great these days, it’s the sobriety that isn’t doing so well. No no, actually, it’s very under control. Thanks for asking. But some of this other stuff that’s out there—”

“Don’t get stupid with that,” advised Lanny. “You know, doing this book of yours is going to—”

“I know.”

They stood there. The sun decided to throw a green filter over this master shot, so it ducked behind a big, polluted cloud.

Vince nodded at Lanny’s tux. “Nice threads.”

“Paolo designed it. I was accepting an award. For somebody else.”

Vince laughed. “Awards. I haven’t gotten an award in— You, you’ve got the whole humane-society thing going.”

“Yeah, well, thank God for that. Can’t get arrested for a movie, you know. Did you hear I was offered the title role inThe Picture of Dorian Gray ?”

“You’replaying Dorian Gray?”

Lanny said in the official Lanny voice, “I’m playing the picture. Rim shot. Walk on ankles.”

“I’d brain you if you weren’t already brain-dead, you monkey,” Vince intoned flatly.

They had fallen into their ritual exchanges automatically but spoke them through to the end, as if not completing the Litany would bring upon them horrendous misfortune.

There had been a general backwash of sound from the cars that traveled on the road far below this perch. The sound stopped for a moment, the way all conversation in a crowded restaurant can suddenly stop, by sheer coincidence. I heard more clearly:

Vince said, “Youknow. You do, don’t you.”

Lanny gestured with his open hands as if he were comparing the weights of two bags of gold. “Vince, I know by default. You understand? It’s math. That’s how I know.”

Vince looked at Lanny as if his partner were a trick question. “But all it has to be is that you’re lying, and then the math means nothing. It would be so easy for you to do that.” His face went dead. “You know what, Lanny? I’m glad we broke up.”

“No more than me, pal.” They looked at each other as if they’d come to a new understanding. Lanny slapped his hands together once. “And now you’re going to be even gladder we did. I am, Frčre Collins, the Bearer of Evil Tidings.”

Lanny walked toward the limo. Dominic hit the button that unlocked all the doors, and as it made its quadraphonic clicking noise, Lanny opened the door on my side and said, “Step out and meet Vince, sweetheart.”

I had never been in this kind of situation before. I’d be damned if I was going to step out of the limo with my head bowed, biting the nail of my index finger with shame. On the other hand, I really was in no position to brazen it out and act like a proud Jezebel. I’d been caught and been inarguably wrong. But suddenly I knew that I was not going to let a prick like Lanny Morris extract his full measure of flesh from me.

I got out of the limo, bringing with me the laundry bag containing my dress from the awards luncheon. Vince was truly shocked to see me, that much I believed. (On the other hand, I’d believed his tears inThe Maginot Line when Elke Sommer had died in his arms, and to the best of my knowledge, Elke was still very much alive.) Vince looked at me, at Lanny, back at me. “I don’t understand.”

I spoke in the even tone of an independent auditor at a stockholders’ meeting. “Vince, a few days after we first met, I found myself seated behind Lanny on a flight to New York. Neuman and Newberry’s travel agent booked my seat—I had nothing to do with it. You can check that if you like. Whether Lanny had something to do with sitting in front ofme is an unanswered question.”

“Oh, please—” Lanny groaned.

“Owing to the table-for-four seating in first class, I ended up having dinner with Lanny, his manager, and his valet. They asked me my name. Vince, I had just finished reading the first chapter of Lanny’s autobiography, obviously a rival work. His lawyers had let me see it in the hope of discouraging our own project. As a reflex, since he probably viewed me as ‘the enemy,’ I gave Lanny not my real name but that of a friend of mine whose apartment I was going to stay at in Manhattan. In other words, I lied to him, and I’m responsible for what came out of that lie. I thought at the time I simply had to get through the awkwardness of the flight itself, but the trouble is that Mr. Morris, as you know, is quite the self-promoter. We went to a ball game the next day, where he’d arranged to sing for a sell-out crowd at Shea Stadium. Then he flew me by helicopter to a rooftop in Manhattan, bought out a room at a restaurant so we could sip immense martinis in total privacy, took me on the mandatory hansom-cab ride through Central Park, and Vince, by the time we were back at his hotel, I admit I was completely starstruck, suckered, and schnockered.”

Vince nodded. “You slept with him.”

Lanny spoke up. “I think her words, Vince, were‘Oh, take me, please!’ ”

I shook my head. “I swear I never said that.”

And Icould swear, because what I’d said was “Oh … of course, yes, have me. By all means,” which was, of course, very different by the Spiro Agnew Standard of Nondenial Denial. I added, “But honestly, I don’t remember much of what happened after that.” Immense lie. I remembered everything, vividly. I’d hoped and expected it would happen again and again, if only Lanny hadn’t revealed himself to be the world’s biggest bastard. But Lanny couldn’t be inside my brain, wouldn’t know how much the night had meant to me, how much I’d fallen asleep thinking I’d awaken to a new phase of my life, so there was no way he would know what a lie this was. “All I can tell you is the next morning, I found that Lanny had left town without explanation. He never contacted me again. Today is the first time I’ve seen him since that evening. And that, Vince, is the truth.”

Lanny turned in a small circle. “Vince, she’s so full of crap I can’t even begin.”

Vince nodded. “Okay. What did she lie about?”

Lanny sputtered. “It’s the way she’s presented it. She’s one shrewd bitch, Vince. You can’t give her your trust. Understand? That’s the only reason I brought her here. To warn you.”

Vince withdrew a pack of Viceroys from his pocket and lit one with his gold stick lighter. He exhaled and looked at me. “So. You slept with my ex-partner.”

Oh God. What could I say? “Technically, yes.”

“Doesn’t sound like things were particularly technical.” He half-smiled. “I don’t suppose he forced you to do anything? I mean, it was all voluntary on your part.”

Something about this seemed familiar. I noticed Vince’s suave but wounded expression, the look of hurt when the world has let you down and you are not surprised. Where had I seen this before?

Then I realized where.

I’d seen it in my mind’s eye, when I’d read the very first part of Lanny’s first chapter, which recounted how Vince had “discovered” Lanny sleeping with Denise, the Florida P.R. woman whom Lanny helped Vince discard. Was this now a staged routine, was I seeing the grand reuniting of Collins and Morris? Did I detect a look passing between them, these two boys who on a nightclub stage had been able to read each other’s minds?

I wasn’t going to fold my cards like Denise had done and slink away, leaving the boys to find their next victim.

I spoke to Vince as if Lanny had evaporated. “When I came back here, I was never so glad to embrace this work we’ve been sharing. I made a terrible mistake in New York. I apologize to you more than I know how to say. If my bad judgment and stupidity have destroyed the wonderfully comfortable friendship we were having, or made repugnant to you how we planned to”—I searched for the word—“conclude our work, I will be so woefully sorry. But, Vince, the realization of your life’s story shouldn’t be threatened because I have failings, or because I can’t handle two huge martinis, or because your ex-partner knows how to play to an audience of one. Please let me continue to work with you, Vince. I’ll help you tell your story right. Give me the chance to earn your trust, your faith, and your friendship again.”

Vince threw down his cigarette and put it out with his foot. He looked right at Lanny. “Nice seeing you, pally. We’ll have to do this every thirteen years.”

Lanny started to walk to the limousine, stopped after a step, and faced his ex-partner. “Just you be careful, Vince.” He turned slowly toward me. “Oh, and great recovery, Bonnie. You bend in even more directions than I realized.” Lanny headed back to his car and this time did not stop.

As the limo drove off, the sun decided to reappear. I stood looking at Vince’s suit. I’d never seen navy blue so brightly lit. “Nice suit,” I commented, not knowing at this point what else to say.

He looked at his outfit, seemingly embarrassed. “I made reservations for us for dinner. Somewhere special, requires conservative dress. You warned me on the phone yesterday that you’d still be wearing your Scotty-presenting outfit, so I thought it would work out fine.”

He looked at the drab A-line dress Lanny had made me change into. I held up the laundry bag from the motel. “I still have my outfit. I can change back into it in a second.”

He looked toward his house and up at the sky. “Oh, for God’s sake, it’s not as if I thought you were a virgin. Or that we’re both in high school and Lanny and I are rivals on the track team. By show-business standards, you’re a saint. For all I know, Lanny went out of his way to seduce you, just to get in a dig at me. Let’s go inside.”

We walked into his home. He had, with all good intentions, placed the tape recorder on the coffee table, near where I’d left it three days earlier. I looked up at this man who was taking off his jacket, loosening his tie. He was the remedy, the solution.