Innocent Little Crimes (25 page)

In the evenings, as they studied, Millie
raved about the theater group at Evergreen, a talented group of
students that put on three plays a year. This was Millie’s second
year in drama and she had only done bit roles, which suited her
fine. She confided in Lila that her real reason for joining the
group was to find a husband; she had no acting ambition. All the
interesting guys hung around there. They were already into
rehearsals of “The Owl and the Pussycat,” the December production,
starring the two most talented actors in school. She persuaded Lila
to sneak backstage and watch.

Millie ushered Lila into the wings of the
dark stage. Lila melted into the curtain and watched the actors
rehearse, illuminated only by the work light. Their voices
resonated in the empty auditorium, filling Lila with awe. Absorbed
in their performance, Lila startled when the instructor called for
a break. She realized she had been holding her breath.

Suddenly, she knew she wanted to join this
group. Yet, she would never have the courage to do it. How could
she? She was no match for these students. They probably had taken
acting lessons and performed plays all through high school. All
Lila had to her credit was her fifth grade Christmas performance.
But she knew, in that moment, that every chance she had she would
be spent in this theater, watching an enchanting world. At the
campus bookstore she flipped through a copy of “The Owl and the
Pussycat,” then bought it on impulse.

One evening Millie came home and hesitated at
the door. She heard Lila’s voice, rich in inflection.

“ ‘
What a dope I was to listen to you.
I’m going to save you, Doris! You are such a phony, I can’t believe
it. You don’t write for money but you keep sending your junk to
magazines, don’t you?’ ”

Millie turned the doorknob. There Lila
stood—before the full-length mirror mounted on their closet door,
oblivious to Millie’s entrance. Millie watched in fascination,
noticing Lila’s marvelous ability at switching from character to
character, changing her voice and mannerisms with ease. Lila
turned, then blushed at seeing Millie.

“I didn’t hear you come in.”

“Oh, don’t be upset. I didn’t mean to snoop,
but, hey, I’m impressed. You’re really talented.”

“Come on,” Lila said, “don’t try to flatter
me.”

“You can act. I mean it.”

Lila waved her away. “I love acting. I spent
every minute I could, the last ten years, in a dark movie house.
Memorizing all the parts. But I could never really act, not on a
real stage in front of other people.”

“Oh, sure you could. Why don’t you join, Li?
I’d be there to give you moral support.”

Lila shook her head. “No way.”

Over the next month, Millie dragged Lila to
rehearsals, in spite of her protestations. She knew Lila wanted to
be there and Millie was glad to have her at her side, more to keep
from feeling a loner than for Lila’s benefit. As much as Millie
wanted to be included in the small group of actors, she understood
they only tolerated her. They treated her professionally when on
stage with her, but offstage she was invisible to them.

The only one in that inner circle who
spared her a few words was Dick Ferrol, and he was all jokes.
Millie could tell he worked hard to stay in the clique. As the
instructor sat with the students, discussing the day’s rehearsals,
Millie often noticed Dick eyeing the others with envy. At breaks,
when he hung around Jonathan and
Davis
—
the two obvious leaders of the
clique
—
he cracked jokes and exaggerated
his experiences. Dick, like all the other guys in the group, tried
to draw Della’s attention his way, but she smiled vacantly,
pretending to be amused by his antics. Millie could almost smell
the jealousy when Dick watched the sexual energy between Della and
Davis, sometimes so distracted by their heated passion he would
forget his entrances. The couple would be all over each other,
hands roaming, mouths kissing, in the dark corners backstage. But,
from what Millie gathered from the rumor mill, Davis was just
another temporary amusement for Della.

Millie, like all the girls in Thespians, was
magnetized by Davis—his gorgeous looks, his easy confidence. When
he said his lines, he radiated with charm. But she knew better than
to hope to land someone like him. Even Jonathan, who was from New
York, had too much confidence and street smarts to notice a small
town nobody. He and Davis seemed to have girls on their arms
wherever they went.

So Millie set her sights on Dick. He was
within her grasp. He lacked charisma and looks. But he did have a
cute smile and a sense of humor. Rather than aiming for an acting
career, he leaned toward public service. Millie appreciated his
fevered speeches about Olympia and his involvement in the city
council meetings. He would make his town better, develop bike paths
and recycling centers, bring the ecology movement to Thurston
County. Millie sat by him, listened to his jokes and laughed,
complimenting him. When he made a move on one of the actresses and
was snubbed, Millie appeared on the rebound, cheerful and admiring.
Dick couldn’t fail to notice the loyal, devoted, yes, even
worshipful Millie Stevens. And gradually, he began taking interest
in the only girl who would give him the time of day.

When Millie heard there were openings for
stage hands, she dragged Lila over to meet the crew. With a little
persuasion, Lila joined, because she could be invisible behind the
scenes and still participate in the excitement of the theater.
Stagecraft quickly became her favorite pastime. Always a quick
study, she learned about lighting, set design, and audio
engineering. In the evenings, she worked on the stage, painting and
wiring, working with tools for the first time in her life. She
memorized every line of the play, mouthing along with the actors.
College life was an alien world to Lila. Most of her time she spent
observing people, watching how they behaved and moved and talked.
She blended in with any group by adopting their attitudes and
expressions. She became a chameleon, learning the social graces
denied her in her sterile home. Soon she was just one of the gang
on the stage crew, making jokes and entertaining her peers and
teachers alike. No one knew her background or sensed her deeply
concealed anxiety. To all appearances Lila was a happy, confident
student with an typical, middle-class past trailing behind her.

Lila’s scholarship fell short of covering her
expenses, so in the evenings she worked at Jo Mama’s, a restaurant
that made unusual pizzas. Millie’s favorite was the banana with
white sauce, (no cheese, of course), topped with almonds and pine
nuts. Lila preferred the “Mafiosa,” with twenty-two toppings but
impossible to finish. Sometimes, she feasted on leftover cold pizza
for days, often the only food she could afford.

Jo Mama’s was, hands down, the favorite
student hangout in Oly, with cozy wooden booths and cheap beer. The
tips weren’t great, but Lila enjoyed overhearing the students as
she served them. Often she would silently mimic a patron with a
different accent or personality. Back at the dorm, she would
demonstrate to Millie, who laughed appreciatively. Millie was the
only one Lila revealed her talent to, the only one Lila trusted
with her secret dream. Millie wished her roommate would take the
chance and show the Thespians her talent. They could use a natural
like her, she told Lila, time and again. But Lila refused. Maybe
later, next year. She was only a freshman and had a lot to
learn.

Winter settled in over Olympia with damp cold
and morning frost. Davis held Della loosely in his arms under the
down comforter draping his bed. The small house he rented in Boston
Harbor afforded him a serene view of the Sound and the luxury of
privacy. Rather than live in Oly, Davis preferred quiet and
isolation, away from the downtown traffic and campus bustle. Boston
Harbor stretched over rolling hills lushly packed with evergreens
along the water’s edge, yet only a five minute drive to school.
Sometimes, on an unusually sunny day, he’d take his canoe out and
paddle to campus. His father insisted he go to college, but Davis
didn’t intend to work hard. That’s why he picked Evergreen. You
designed your own program and picked your core study and worked at
your own pace. It took a little convincing to get the old man to
agree to Evergreen instead of an Ivy League college, but
fortunately TESC had a good career placement record. So without too
much dissension, Dad acquiesced to Davis’s desire.

Why should he stoop to living in a
dorm, sharing a room and communal bathroom? So much nicer to live
alone, without anyone getting on his case about washing dishes or
taking out the trash. And the other students envied
him
—
his house became the place to party,
with no close neighbors to voice complaint.

Della spent many nights over at Davis’s
house. She shared a dorm room with two other women, neither of whom
she liked. Staying at Davis’s was like a night at a Hilton hotel by
comparison. For Della, much of her involvement with Davis had to do
with the allure of a comfortable, warm bed.

As they lay together, a light snow drifted to
the ground. Della stared out the window at the cloudy sky. “I hear
Russel’s getting flack from administration. He’s not going to give
both of us lead roles.”

Davis looked at the clock. Three in the
morning and he was fading. Della was wide awake, smoking a
cigarette. She fidgeted in bed and that annoyed Davis. He reached
for her and stroked her back, hoping she’d relax.

“Come on, Del. Let’s get some shut-eye. I’m
beat.”

“`And why the hell did they choose ‘Picnic?’
Another corny girl-meets-boy thing. Why can’t we do something
really modern, experimental? I’d love to do Beckett. Or Ionesco.
Have you read that stupid play yet? It’s boring.”

Davis grunted and buried his nose in her
hair. He kissed her neck. Just the scent of her skin aroused him.
He could tell from her lack of response that she wouldn’t be tamed.
He changed the subject. “Only six months left. What’re you going to
do after graduation?”

“Do you have to bring that up again?”
Immediately Della’s stomach tightened. School had been her safe
haven for four years. Her aunt’s money had barely lasted until now.
Only by constantly borrowing money and letting friends pick up the
tabs at restaurants had she been able to stretch her meager
allowance this long without getting a part time job. Why did Davis
always bring up the subject so cheerfully—like graduation was some
exciting adventure to embark upon?

She knew why; he had tons of money. For
him, it
was
an exciting
adventure. His money was the reason she went after him in the first
place. Never mind that he was sexy as hell. After all the older men
she’d picked up at the resorts waitressing in the Catskills, Della
knew how to lure a man in, and Davis was an easy conquest. In bed,
she showed him things she knew he never experienced, not even in
his dreams. She knew how to satisfy, yet keep him begging for more.
All that mattered to Della was power, keeping Davis on her
string.

“Davis,” she said, stroking his chest, “are
you still thinking about going back to Marin, really?”

“It’s a tempting offer, Della. Guaranteed
money.” He didn’t want to tell her about his father’s recent
ultimatum: pursue acting and he’d be financially cut-off. The idea
of scrounging for money was not only unacceptable, but demeaning.
Other people, unfortunate people, had to do that.

This new talk about going into real estate
set Della on edge. Whenever Davis brought up San Francisco and his
social set, she envisioned herself wandering the marbled floors of
a sprawling home, bored and restless. Why didn’t he want to go to
Hollywood and become a star? They’d been planning it ever since
they got involved; their careers were waiting. Every time she
questioned him about it, he shrugged. Like it was his destiny to
sit at a desk all day and push papers. Della wanted excitement,
action, glamour. The only thing that thrilled her more than sex was
applause. And all the attentive worship acting garnered for her.
She felt herself sinking into despair. All that effort reeling
Davis in, and now he was backing out. How could she get to
Hollywood without someone to pay her way?

Della rolled over away from Davis. He wrapped
his arm around her waist and fell asleep, leaving Della to
fume.

The day before the Christmas performance, a
festive mood hung over the cast and crew. They hung tacky holiday
decorations backstage and placed little effigy dolls of Della and
Davis, the stars of “The Owl and the Pussycat,” on a carrot cake.
Lila found herself saddled with the responsibility of checking
props, so she stationed herself in the corner of the storage room,
going over her list. She could hear laughter and singing as the
class indulged in refreshments.

Millie peeked her head into Lila’s cramped
space.

“Hey, come on out and have some fun for a
change.”

Lila shooed her away. “Someone’s been
rearranging all the stuff. I don’t even know if everything’s
here.”

“It can wait. Come on out—I can’t handle the
assault of Dick’s bad jokes by myself.”

Lila didn’t care much for Dick, but she never
said as much to Millie. The harsh way he treated Mil reminded Lila
too much of her own father. It bothered her that Millie tolerated
it, anxious for a little male attention.

Lila reluctantly came out and joined Millie
and Dick.

“Hey, Li, how’s it going in the dungeon?”
Dick said as he sipped his drink. “A nasty job, but someone’s gotta
do it.”

“Nice of Lila to volunteer, don’t you think?”
Millie asked him. He only grunted in reply. His eyes followed Della
as she sauntered around the room. Millie touched his sleeve.