Innocent Little Crimes (15 page)

“No, I think this movie is ‘Lord of the
Flies,’ ” Della said. “Children tearing one another to pieces.”

Cynthia’s voice came out a whisper. “It’s
more like ‘Misery.’ ”

Peter couldn’t resist their game. “I vote for
‘Eating Raoul.’ ”

“No, darlings, you’re all wrong,” Lila said,
entering the room and dragging an embarrassed Millie on her arm.
“We’re doing, ‘Who’s afraid of Virginia Woolf.’ ”

All eyes locked on Millie, who stood dressed
in a tight, lime green, sequined evening gown. Matching lace gloves
adorned her pale arms and around her neck hung the heavy diamond
and gold necklace Lila had worn at her guests’ arrival. Dick
muffled a laugh; then his eyes lit on the necklace. Lila showed a
curious interest in Dick’s expression. Peter frowned. Just what did
this little game of dress-up signify?

“Now, don’t you think this is more becoming
of your lovely wife?” She pushed Millie into her chair. Millie’s
face reddened. “See, Mil? Sixty pounds makes little difference when
you have a pretty face, isn’t that right, Ferrol?”

Dick forced a smile. Peter knew Dick wasn’t
going to insult his fat wife when he knew it would mean insulting
Lila, too.

Lila leaned into Millie. “I know every fat
joke there is, and I can get away with telling them, too. I’ll
teach you a few. Then you’ll be properly armed when Dick throws his
little jabs. You need to remind him: the fatter you are, the more
weight you have to throw him around.”

Lila plopped into her chair. “You know, Dick,
you really don’t appreciate what a gem you have in Millie. How she
faithfully stands by you, while you unfaithfully don’t stand by
her.” Dick’s face revealed a fight with panic. He clearly dreaded
what she was about to say. Somehow, Lila knew more than she should.
Or maybe she was just searching.

Dick shut his mouth, carefully concealing
every twitch.

Lila seemed pleased with the silence.
“Peter—where’s the dessert?”

“Coming.” Peter had purposely stayed in the
kitchen. He knew Lila wanted to “repay” her guests for some past
hurt, but what unfolded before his eyes comprised more than her
usual comic jabbing. She toyed with these people like a cat with
its prey before devouring it. Maybe these people deserved some ego
bashing, but how much?

He served the brandied apple tart warm from
the oven.

Lila wiggled in her tight seat. “Ah, my
favorite. Be a dear, Peter, and bring some coffee, too.”

Peter hurried to fulfill her wish. Would this
long, worrisome day never end? All he wanted was to get the evening
over with and go to bed.

Della tried to melt into the background.
Through the haze of the alcohol, an overwhelming sense of
discomfort settled in. A memory tugged at the back of her
mind--something Daniel, her shrink, had said to her. She recalled
one evening when she and Daniel had shared a few drinks on the
couch in his office, with their clothes strewn about the floor. She
had been complaining, tearfully, about a friend of hers at college
who enjoyed a successful career while she, the one with the real
talent, got nowhere. Daniel comforted her. He told her when she got
her act together, she’d make it, too. Forget about Lila, he
said.

Daniel’s words replayed in her head. She
asked him how he knew she meant Lila, when she never mentioned her
by name. He flushed and denied saying it. She stormed out of his
office that evening when he refused to explain his faux pas.

“Della, dear, you’re drifting.” Lila’s voice
brought her focus back to the dinner table. “Drink some coffee. I
don’t want you to go mentally AWOL on us tonight. We have a
suspenseful and thrilling game planned and I expect
one-hundred-percent participation.” Lila’s tone was succinct. “The
winner will be rewarded with a very expensive prize.”

Della looked at the faces around her. That
caught their attention. And hers, too.

Dick bolted upright in his chair. “What’s the
game?”

“Let’s just say it’ll be like being on stage.
And you can all give a performance of a lifetime. A chance to
really act—on the big, scary stage of life.”

Jonathan spoke. “You know, Li, I want you to
know how proud we all are of you. Especially me. I feel—how should
I put it—particularly responsible in some way for your
success.”

“Oh, and why is that, Levin?”

Jonathan looked surprised. “Well, Lila, love.
I recognized your talent. I know your friend Millie here suggested
you to the group, but I’m the one who insisted on you playing the
lead in ‘Picnic.’ I knew if you got a taste of the stage you’d make
it your home.”

“Oh, no doubt,” Lila said. “Here was your
great senior project, your baby. And it all revolved around fat,
homely Lila. You really must have seen something in me no one else
did.”

Jonathan bristled at her sarcasm.

“And all those private rehearsals you
arranged with me and Davis, so we could polish up our parts and
give you a stunning performance.”

Jonathan looked puzzled. “Well, yes . .
.”

“And I suppose I let you all down. Not
showing up on opening night. Everything just went to pieces.”

“Yes. I mean, no. You didn’t let us down.”
Jonathan squirmed in his chair. “Hey Lila, that was so long ago.
But, we were worried when you didn’t show up for curtain. Weren’t
we guys?”

Heads nodded around the table. Davis finished
off his glass of wine and attempted to stand. “Why bring all this
up again? Fifteen years is ancient history.”

“But, this is a reunion,” Lila said. “You’re
supposed to dredge up the past and reminisce and lament. So, sit
down, Davis.” Davis promptly dropped back into his seat.

“Now—where were we? Oh yes, everything fell
apart on opening night when the star failed to show. Funny, I never
did hear the end of that story. I always wondered what happened
next.” There was a long silence. “What—no one wants to tell me the
ending? Happy or sad?”

Della remembered the clipping in Lila’s
scrapbook. Of course Lila knew what happened that night.

“Della was your understudy, remember? She
played Madge,” Dick said.

“Of course she would, wouldn’t she?” Lila
turned to Jonathan. “Lucky for you, huh Levin? Della must have
saved the show.”

Jonathan shrugged. “Della was fine, but—”

“You know, Levin, you pride yourself in
thinking you launched me on my illustrious career, but I hold you
all equally responsible. No one more than another. Don’t look so
forlorn,” Lila said, meeting their eyes one at a time, the way she
worked her live audiences. “It’s a great thing you all did. A great
thing. Why if it wasn’t for all of you, I wouldn’t have that
mansion in Bel Air and this little hideaway and all my multiple
investments and jewelry and my Swiss bank accounts. I wouldn’t have
my face on every magazine cover in the world. I wouldn’t have had
the opportunity to curtsy to the queen of England or have a street
named after me. Why, fellas, if it wasn’t for you, I’d be
nothing.”

They exchanged troubled glances. Della
shuddered. Why did she feel as if someone had just walked on her
grave?

Chapter 17

“Party Time!” Lila pulled on the arm of the
sofa but it didn’t budge. Her drink sloshed and ran down onto the
cushion, staining the expensive chintz fabric.

“Here.” Jonathan hurried to her side. “Let me
help you with that.” He hoisted one end and, with Lila, dragged the
sofa along the plush carpeting, scattering glasses in their wake.
The room resembled the aftermath of some explosion: cigarettes
overflowed from ashtrays, bottles and glasses littered the floors
and tables. Lila seemed oblivious to the mess, stepping carelessly,
grinding ashes into the delicate white and gray pattern of the
short shag carpet.

“Peter.” She snapped her fingers and Peter
rushed over. “Get all this stuff off to the side. We need to set up
the benches. It’s time to play our little game.”

“Games are for children, Li,” Davis said,
holding onto Cynthia’s arm. One look told Jonathan that Cynthia had
been complaining to him again.

“Not the kind of games I play, loverboy. Come
on—you’re big and strong. Move some of this mess out of the
way.”

Davis stayed where he was. “And suppose we
don’t want to play? We’re not interested in any prize.”

“No, I imagine you wouldn’t be. But, I’m sure
you’ll find it enlightening nonetheless. You’ll see that you’re not
such a lucky guy, after all.”

“What the hell’s that suppose to mean?”

“Dear Davis, this is a game of merit. You
have to prove your worth. Since you think your life is so flawless,
what’ve you got to lose? Or are you afraid of what may leak
out?”

“I’m not afraid of anything.”

Cynthia squeezed his arm. “You don’t have to
prove anything, Davis.”

“Sure he does,” Lila said. Turning, she
clapped her hands. “Come on, come on, let’s make some space.”

At her direction, Peter brought in a long,
wooden bench from the hallway. “Get one more and place them facing
each other.” Lila walked over to the easy chair and shook Millie’s
shoulder. “Wake up, Mil. The party’s about to begin. I know it’s
past your bedtime, but you’ll have to manage somehow.”

Millie opened her eyes with a start. Her
breath came out in spurts. “This dress is too tight. I have to
change my clothes . . .”

“Nonsense. You’re perfect. Just the thing to
rekindle your marriage.”

Dick stood on the other side of the room,
instructing the “movers” where to put the furniture.

Lila watched and nodded. “Good old Dick,
organizing as usual. He has such a knack for making it look like
he’s doing all the work.” She yanked Millie out of her chair. “Come
on over here.” She deposited her on one of the two benches placed
in the center of the room.

“Can’t we open a window or turn on a
fan? I can’t breathe.” Jonathan paced the floor. Della and her
disgusting cigarettes. He ached to know what the prize was, but
didn’t dare ask. He certainly didn’t want to appear desperate. The
way he figured, if he could win this little game of Lila’s, then
maybe she would grant his request. She just
had
to look at his script. He realized he was
terribly anxious. His shirt stuck to his back and his head pounded
from the buildup of alcohol.

He walked over to Lila and wove his arm
through hers. “From one insider to another, Li, I can tell you have
the makings of a fine dramatic actress. I saw it in college. Not to
knock Variety. God knows it’s given you great financial rewards.
But what about the real meat? Don’t you ever dream of letting the
world see what you’re truly capable of doing?”

“Which brings us to this little project of
yours.”

“Look, I’ve found this brilliant writer. I
optioned his script because it’s tailor-made for you . . .”

“Hold it, Levin.”

Jonathan pushed on. “I’ve got the whole
package: the backing, a studio at my disposal. Of course, I’m the
man to direct it.”

“I know how excited you are, Jonny.” She
disengaged her arm from his. “But it’s time to play a little game.
I promised you we’d talk tomorrow, and tomorrow it is. Now, you
just hold that thought . . .”

The lights flickered again. “It was a dark
and stormy night . . .” Dick said. No one seemed to be listening to
him.

Lila raised her voice. “Okay, everyone on the
benches. Go, go.” She motioned with her hand. The diffidence was
palpable. “Hey, this is the highlight of the evening. Where’s your
damned enthusiasm?”

Dick straddled one of the benches. “So,
what’s the big prize, Lila?”

“First,” she said, quieting him with a
finger, “I explain the rules.”

She paused for effect. “The name of the game
is ‘Wolves.’ ” She scanned the faces around the room. “Let’s do
it.”

The guests placed themselves in varying
positions along the two benches.

Cynthia and Peter stood by the kitchen door.
Lila scowled. “Come on, you two. Everyone has to play.”

“Thanks, Lila. I’d rather watch.” Cynthia’s
refusal was polite, but Lila would have none of it.

“You want to go home tomorrow, you have to
play.”

Peter and Cynthia exchanged looks. He
motioned to Cynthia. Just humor her, his look told her.
Reluctantly, she followed him over to the benches and slipped in
next to Davis. Her fiancée sat with a smug, determined expression,
a drink in his hand. Cynthia entreated him with her eyes, maybe
hoping for his support in abandoning Lila’s game, but he stared
mindlessly across the room. Jonathan chuckled imagining the
conversation those two would have after this weekend.

“Good.” Lila stationed herself at the end,
straddling the bench behind Peter. Two groups of four sat facing
each other: Millie, Davis, Cynthia, and Dick across from Jonathan,
Della, Lila, and Peter. Lila drank in the expressions of her
captives, clearly pleased with the tension she created.

“Okay, let me set the stage.” She spoke
in a dramatic voice with a heavy Russian accent. “The year is 1917.
The place, Siberia! It is freezing cold and revolution is
overrunning the land. The Czar has been toppled from his throne. We
loyal subjects are fleeing for our lives. We’re racing across the
frozen steppes of Russia in our horse-drawn carriage. We have been
riding for hours and the horses are getting weak.” Lila cupped her
hand to her ear and leaned forward. “Hark! What’s this? The sound
of wolves in the distance.
Hungry
wolves.”

Dick chuckled. “The sound of wolves? Is that
anything like the sound of music?” He emitted a wolf howl, bringing
responses of nervous laughter. A crack of thunder rattled the house
and the lights went out. The room grew still as the group waited
for the power to come back on.