Coldheart Canyon (50 page)

The sluttish daughter was now up off her chair, and attempting to attack her mother. Luckily, there was a security man ready to step in and stop her. Unluckily, he wasn’t quite fast enough to do so. The girl threw herself upon her mother with such violence the woman’s chair toppled over, and the security man, who had by now taken hold of the girl to keep her from doing harm, fell forward too, so that chair, mother, daughter and security man ended up on the studio floor together. Todd continued to talk through it.

“There are days when you really want to feel good about yourself; you
want
to be recognized, you want people to say: I loved your movie so much I saw it six times. And then there are other days when it’s a curse to have people know who the hell you are, because there’s no privacy, no way to just go out and be yourself. Everything becomes a performance.”

He pointed at the brawlers on television. “Look at these stupid bitches.

What are they going to say when their friends see this?” He pondered his own question for a moment, then he said: “Actually, I know
exactly
what they’re going to say. They’re going to say: did you see me on the TV?

That’s all that matters. Not: did you see me being smart or looking beautiful: just
did you see me?
”

He watched the women’s antics for a while longer, shaking his head.

Then he glanced over at Tammy and said: “I’ve been thinking maybe I’m done with the movies. Or movies are done with me. It’s time to buy a ranch in Montana and raise horses.”

“Really?” Tammy had finally got dressed, and came to sit down on the unmade bed beside Todd. “You’re going to retire?”

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He laughed.

“What’s so funny?”

“Oh, just hearing the word. Retire. At thirty-four.”

“I thought you were thirty-two. Your bio—”

“I lied.”

“Oh.”

“But I’m still young. Right? I mean, thirty-four is still young.”

“A mere kitten.”

“I just can’t face the idea of that
circus
for one more day . . .” He turned off the television. The room was suddenly very silent.

After a few moments Tammy said: “Are we going to talk about it or not?”

Todd stared at the blank television. She couldn’t see his expression but she was certain it was just as vacant as the screen.

“The Canyon, Todd,” she said again. “Are we going to talk about what happened in the Canyon or not?”

“Yes,” he replied finally. “I suppose so.”

“Last night you said it wasn’t real.”

“I was tired.”

“So?”

“It’s real. I knew last night I was talking bullshit . . .”

He kept his back to her through this, as though he didn’t want to let her see his incomprehension; as though it were something to be ashamed of.

“You saw more than I did,” she said to Todd. “So you’ve probably got a clearer idea of what’s going on. And you talked to—”

“Katya.”

“Yes. And. What did she tell you?”

“She told me the room downstairs had been given to her.”

“By Zeffer. Yes, I know that part.”

“Then what are you asking me for?” he said. “You probably know as much as I do.”

“What about Maxine?”

“What about her?”

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“She must have checked out the house for you—”

“Yeah. She took photographs—”

“Maybe she has some answers.”

“Maxine?” He got up off the bed and went to the table to pick up his cigarettes. He took one out of the packet and lit it, inhaling deeply. “As soon as she’d moved me into that fucking house she told me she didn’t want to manage me any longer,” he said.

There was a knock at the door. “Room service.”

Tammy opened the door and an elderly man, who frankly looked as though this might be the last club sandwiches and coffee he delivered, tot-tered in, and set the laden tray on the table.

“I asked for extra mayonnaise,” Todd said.

“Here, sir.” The old man proffered a small milk jug, into which several spoonfuls of mayonnaise had been deposited.

“Thank you, it’s all fine,” Tammy said.

Todd went into his jeans pocket and pulled out a bundle of notes. He selected a twenty—much to the antiquated waiter’s delight—and gave it to the man.

“Thank you very much, sir,” he said, exiting rather faster than he’d entered, in case the man in the filthy jeans changed his mind.

They set to eating.

“You know what?” Todd said.

“What?”

“I think I should go and see Maxine. Ask her what she knows, face-to-face. Maybe this was all some kind of set-up—”

“If you get her on the phone—?”

“She’ll lie.”

“You’ve had that experience?”

“Several times.”

“Where does she live?”

“Well she’s got three houses. A house in Aspen, a place in the Hamptons and a house in Malibu.”

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out of her sandwich and nibbling on it. “Only three houses? How does she manage?”

“So eat up. We’ll just drop in on her.”

“Both of us?”

“Both of us. That way she can’t tell me I’m crazy. What I saw, you saw.”

“Actually, I saw some shit you didn’t see.”

“Well, we’ll be sure to get some answers from her.”

“Are you certain you want me to come?”

“There’s safety in numbers,” Todd said. “Drink your coffee and let’s get going.”

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F I V E

Katya hadn’t wasted any time weeping over Todd’s departure. What was the use? She’d shed more than her share of tears over men and their betrayals across the years. What good had any of her weeping ever done her?

Besides, it wasn’t as if she’d truly lost the man; he’d simply drifted away from her for a few hours, that was all. She’d get him back, humbled and begging to be returned into her company. After all, hadn’t she let him kiss her? Hadn’t she let him fuck her, there in the Devil’s Country? He could never forget those memories.

Oh, he could try. He could put a hundred women, a thousand, between the two of them, but it wouldn’t work. Sooner or later he’d come crawling back to her for more of what only she could give him, and nothing that fat bitch of a woman who’d coaxed him away could say would keep him from coming back. A man like Todd had nothing in common with a creature like that. He understood the world in ways she could not even guess at. What hope did she have of seeing with his eyes, even for a moment? None. She was a workhorse. Todd had lived with beauty too long to put up with the presence of something so charmless for very long.

After a few hours of her clumsy company, he’d be off.

She had only one fear: that owing to the artful way her Canyon had been hidden, he wouldn’t be able to find his way back to her.

The city had never been a simple place even during the years she’d lived in it; it was easy to get lost or distracted. How much more complicated would it be
now
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so muddled and confused. She knew how that felt, to have everyone falling over themselves to adore you one moment, and the next to find that those same people had given their devotion over to somebody else. It turned everything upside down when that happened; nothing made sense anymore. You started looking around for something to hold on to; something firm and solid, that wouldn’t be taken away. In such a mood of desperation, it was possible you could make a mistake: choose the wrong person to believe in, the wrong path to follow. Even now, he could be moving away from her.

The more she contemplated that prospect the more it became apparent that she was going to have to go and find him.

The idea of venturing out of her Canyon filled her with a mingling of fear and anticipation.

The world! The great, wide world!

It was three-quarters of a century since she’d stepped beyond the bounds of the Canyon; and though she’d had plenty of clues as to the way things had changed, from those who’d come here after their decease, it would still be an intimidating experience for her to venture out there, even on a mission of love.

But what other choice did she have? Without him, her hopes were in ruins. She
had
to go and find him, it was as simple as that. And on the way back, once they were together again, maybe she’d have the strength of heart to visit some of the places she’d known and loved in her youth; just to see how time had altered them. But then again perhaps that wouldn’t be such a good idea. It troubled her enough to look out of the window and see the stretches of land that had been dust roads and shacks and orange groves in her time now completely transformed into towers of steel and glass.

What if she were to discover that some precious place she’d loved had been desecrated; rendered unrecognizable? Though she liked to think she was fearless, in truth time was taking its toll on the resilience of her soul.

But then, of course, this whole quest was a test of her strength, wasn’t it?

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the magic that had preserved her perfection, was gambling with her life.

She had no way of knowing for certain but she guessed that the further she ventured, and the longer she remained away from the Canyon, from the house and all it contained, the more vulnerable she’d be to the long-postponed indignities of old age. After all, beneath this veneer of youth she was a Methuselah. How long could she afford to be out in the rap-tureless world before the shell cracked and the crone inside, the hag that the Devil’s Country had obscured with its magic, was unveiled?

It was terrifying. But in the end, it came down to this: finding Todd was worth the risk. If she survived the journey they would come back to the Canyon and initiate a new Golden Age. It wouldn’t be like the previous Age of Gold, with its foolish excesses. This would be a more profoundly felt time, when instead of using the Devil’s Country like a cross between a two-bit ghost-train ride and a fountain of youth, it would be respected as the mystery it was.

Despite the perverse pride she’d taken in showing Todd the orgiasts in the Canyon, and in letting him share their excesses, Katya’s appetite for the witless hedonism of the twenties had long since passed away. And though Todd had happily played the sensualist, she was sure that he too had seen enough of the tawdriness of such spectacles. It was time they behaved as owners of something genuinely marvelous; and treated it respectfully. Together, they would begin an exploration of the world Lilith had made. Katya had never possessed the courage to explore it as it deserved to be explored, road by road, grove by sacred grove. Certainly she’d seen plenty there over the years that had inflamed her sexual self (women tethered to the underbellies of human-horses, in a constant state of ecstatic agony); and she would not scorn such spectacles if they came on them again. But these were other sights, designed to arouse the spirit not the loins; and it was to those places she wanted to take Todd.

There were enough diversions and wonders to keep them enchanted for decades to come. Though the heavens were fixed in the same configuration whenever she visited the Country, there was nevertheless evidence that the earth was still obeying some of its ancient rhythms.

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There was, for instance, in the swamp, a manmade lake perhaps half a mile wide, which seemed to have been for many generations the place where a certain species of eel, the infants silver-blue, with great golden eyes, came in their millions—each no longer than her little finger—but sufficient in number that they filled the place of their birth to brimming when they spawned. For a day—when the larval eels appeared—this Genesis Bowl, as Katya had named it, was a feasting place for birds of every kind, who were literally able to walk on the squirming backs of their feast, taking all they could before lifting off (some so fat with food they could barely fly) and retiring to the nearest branch to digest their mighty meal. The next day (if the Country could be said to have days) the Genesis Bowl was empty, but for a few thousand runts that had perished in the exodus, and were being picked up by carrion cows and wild dogs.

She wanted to show this glorious spectacle to Todd; wanted to wade into the living mass of baby eels and feel them against her naked flesh.

On another day they might go to a place she knew where there was a beast that spoke prophetic riddles; which had twice engaged her in conversation which she knew would make sense if she had the education to decode its strange poetry. It had the body of a huge bird, this riddler, with a man’s head, and it sat, close to the ground, with a vast array of glittering gifts around the base of its tree, offered for its prophecies. She’d come to it a year ago, with some jewelry she had worn in
Nefertiti
.

“Is it real, the gift you give me?” the creature, whose name was Yiacaxis, had asked her.

“No,” she had admitted. “I am an actress. These baubles are what I wore when I was an actress.”

“Then make them real for me,” Yiacaxis had said, clicking his old gray tongue against his cracked beak. “Play me the scene in which you wore them.”

“It was silent,” she said.

“That’s good,” he replied. “For I am very deaf in my old age.”

She shed most of her clothes, and put on the jewelry. Then she played the scene from
Nefertiti
in which she discovers that her lover is dead by the CC[348-676] 9/10/01 2:29 PM Page 381

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order of the envious Queen, and she kills herself out of tragic longing for him.

The old bird-man wept freely at her performance.