Chapter Three

i.

Sarro's office is located above the Beledon projection room. He is seated there on a high-backed tufted leather chair behind a wide mahogany desk. His back is to a panoramic, lightly tinted window -- a giant sunglass lens that overlooks the ever-animated city.

While concluding a phone conversation, he stands to greet his new visitor with a handshake.

There are several young executives about the room, one with a pad, another with a book. Others talk amongst themselves. Muzak can be heard underlying the dialogue.

"Got to go, Lynn. He's here. Take care, love. Speak to you soon. Kiss, kiss." Sarro hangs up the phone and says, "Hi, Kevin. We were just discussing a scene from the latest of your old films, Friends, weren't we, boys."

All nod.

"Why weren't you discussing the weather? There's not a cloud in the sky." He approaches and stares out the window.

"It's a fabulous day."

"Unusually so, I'd say." He turns and glances at the many faces staring back with awe and admiration. "Which scene," he asks with reluctance, "the one on the embalming table?"

"No, no. The scene where you two are in that cottage with your clothes on."

"Actually, it was filmed in a tenement house. I spliced in that shot of the cottage as an afterthought to give it more privacy."

"That doesn't diminish my interest in it. I suppose that despite my new job here at the Beledon I am still prone to discussing film whenever I can."

Kevin announces, "Is everyone here aware that Mr. Sarro is a professor on leave from Maxwell House University where he taught a highly influential film course?"

"I've told them." he says with modest weariness.

"Then may I say what an amazing film theorist you are? How, in your own quiet way, you are responsible for making films, yourself, ex post facto?" Kevin is still addressing the room.

"That they have to find out for themselves. I think you know everybody here since most of them have been working with you on the show, but allow me to introduce them anyway."

Kevin looks gratefully at Sarro.

"Jeff, Robert, Henry and Peter. These are your assistant directors. Crystal, of course you know; and to my right is Philip. He's new here. He came in with our latest page cattle-call so he hasn't even gotten his uniform, yet."

Everyone else, excluding Crystal, is wearing the beige suit and tie that is the Beledon uniform; therefore, they match the office which is also basically beige.

Kevin notices Philip's improved appearance, a shorter haircut and a clearer, more translucent complexion through which can be seen, within his cheek, blue veins. He is wearing a new pair of designer jeans and an orange velour pullover shirt.

Kevin exchanges a general greeting with the group and nods to Crystal. Crystal casually points at Philip. Kevin nods again, as if Philip's presence were perfectly understandable when placed in the greater scheme of things.

Meanwhile, Sarro continues introducing. "Philip's wife has made a point of letting everyone know he is a good friend of yours so I invited him to the meeting."

"If she says so, it's fine with me." He takes an empty seat next to Crystal who is at the far side of the room nearest the door. "Hi. It's nice to see you here. How were rehearsals this morning."

"Fine. How was your arrival at the Clairol?"

"Good. I got to see Lynn again. Swinson interviewed me."

"Oh Kevin." Sarro attracts Kevin's attention with a wave. "Is Swinson from Peopleview?"

"Peepleepoo. That's right." Kevin waves back. He and Sarro are at opposite extremes of the office.

"Before he finalizes his article I may have something for him to add." Sarro speaks loudly with reprimand in his voice.

"Something flattering, I hope."

"We'll see. Why don't you take your chair and move it closer to me?"

Kevin moves, hunched, to the middle of the room, pulling the chair behind him, and sits directly facing Sarro. He tries to assume a relaxed posture for which he continues to search as Sarro speaks.

"I'd like your report on preparations for the Pyramid Awards."

"They're rolling along fine," he says and then, faltering, considers the question. "The techies are well rehearsed. I've been working with them myself over the past two days.

"I hope they've gotten the hang of it by now. You know, the show is next Tuesday."

"The main set is rather complex but it promises to be most spectacular. Crystal can explain it to you."

"I don't want complexity. I only want a smooth running show. This is the first time the Pyramids have ever been held in the Beledon and I'd like to make a good impression. Awards are easy entertainment, as I think we all agree, but they consist of innumerable entrances and exits and there's that 'live' element that can drive even the best productions haywire. You can never tell how (or for how long) a person is going to react to winning an award. I also hope that you're taking the big stage into account."

Henry, with the pad, takes note.

"That's why I chose you, Kevin, to direct it. We have reason to believe from your films that you've a flare for the unpredictable and unwieldy."

Kevin is surrounded by admiring glances. Sarro continues, "Also, let's face it. You hadn't anything else to do. Have you met with all the performers yet?"

"I still haven't met with the fellow doing the war song."

"The war song? What's the war song?"

"That's the one I've personally devised for the Dieledon Experience."

Crystal helpfully interjects from his seat at the far corner, "That's Peter Robbins. Don't worry, Kevin. He wants to meet you. He's been touring and he's only arriving in Dieledon today."

"Good. Then I'll have met everybody by tonight, then. They all seem like good people, and very enthusiastic."

"Kevin, we're not talking now about The Dieledon Experience. That's not as immediate as the Pyramids." He concedes, "but yes, they are a good group. Exceptional. I hope you not neglecting them. I heard you skipped off on some of them during lunch a few days ago." Sarro wags his finger. Kevin changes his seating position. "You really should eat lunch with your cast, Kevin; and, especially, with your assistant directors. That is the time to talk over rehearsals, exchange ideas, share suggestions. I know Henry here hasn't spoken with you once and he feels he has much to suggest."

Henry smiles amiably at Kevin.

Kevin feels he must explain despite the lack of a satisfying explanation. "Mr. Sarro, if I could explain . . .."

Sarro wishes to move on to even more immediate matters. He silences his most erratic employee with forgiveness. "But, I forgive you. You're not one of my students, and I'm certainly not giving you a mark on this. I just don't recommend it in the future. You're doing a fine job; don't get the wrong idea, but I'm afraid another job has arisen for which you are even more indispensable. As you know, there is a special segment of the show devoted to honoring those great films you made some years ago -- uh, that you and Souiel made some years ago. Today, you are here in the city to accept the Pyramid Award. Alas, Souiel is not, and his self-imposed exile has proved to be a loss for us all. He was scorned, misunderstood and neglected for so many years. Now, we wish finally to make right all those years and Kevin, there can be no question about it. Everyone I've consulted agrees. It is only fitting that you, his former partner, should bring him back."

Crystal displays a barely perceptible sign of alarm by quickly tightening his jaw.

"Therefore," Sarro continues, "I have obtained from the Beledon Board, the funds to finance your trip to the Mirian Peninsula, where he is said to dwell, so that you may personally find and invite him to the Pyramid Awards on behalf of all of us here in Dieledon who look forward to his return."

Aside from Crystal and Philip, the men in the room look encouragingly at Kevin, as if they are behind him one hundred percent. Sarro adds, "You'll be given an expense account, the finest hotel accommodations first class air fare, plus, you'll remain salary. You are to be Dieledon's emissary."

"What about the show?" asks a flustered Kevin as he stares at Sarro's desk.

"It can survive your absence. You've done so much already, and if you're quick about it, you'll have time for finishing touches when you return."

"Mr. Sarro."

Sarro, heedless, forges forward. "I have your plane tickets right here. Take them." He places them on the desk. Kevin leaves them there. "I've had some currency exchanged for you. Here's one of the foreign bills, now." He pulls it out of his pocket and displays it. "Hold it up to the light and you can see an image in it. See, this one has a face." He places the bill on top of the tickets. "Isn't that fun? A haunted bill. This will buy you . . .," he again reaches into a side pocket of his jacket and pulls out ". . . a pack of gum," which he places atop the pile.

"Mr. Sarro?" Kevin takes the gum, but not the rest.

"And I've made reservations for you in one of Miria's finest and most conveniently located hotels, the Alberto. You will be well accommodated."

"Ahem, Mr. Sarro." He raises his hand.

"You can leave tonight. It's a night flight."

"Tonight?! But I just got here. You know if you'll just let me speak for a minute, I don't think Souiel wants to see me ever again, and I don't think he left this city liking it or anybody with anything to do with the Pyramids, so I see no reason why I should have to pressure him into coming back." As he continues, his voice gets higher -- "We notified the papers and the radio." -- till it cracks. "I mean, we asked him."

Sarro thinks little of these excuses. "Think about it, Kevin. The area Souiel supposedly inhabits is so quaint and provincial they probably don't even have newspapers because they're illiterate, and they don't have radios because they don't know what they are. We're talking about peasants living off the land and starving because of it. For them, time has stood still. I consider our media alert to have been nothing more than a gesture; a yell in a vacuum. But your going over there, that's really trying. And you speak of Souiel's unsociable disposition as if you spoke with him yesterday. Kevin, that was five years ago. Not only do people change but, need I remind you, your situation here has changed. He left before I came along and gave meaning to your art -- before I literally theorized it into existence, as you say, ex post facto." His face restrains a smile.

Though upset, Kevin is not that upset. "Anyway, you taught the public how to approach it."

"Are you kidding?" A smile breaks across his face charming everyone in sight. "I had to change the world to create a space for you. But not matter." He gestures that no thanks are necessary. "I did it willingly and now that it's been done; now that the solar system has been realigned and you are a famous film maker; now is the time for Souiel's return. After all they're his films, too. Make him understand that Dieledon is restoring itself and, like the Beledon, we consider him one of our most neglected resources. Today we have far more to offer a creative fellow like him; more than he could ever have imagined. Where's your sense of fulfilling arrogance?" He leans back in his chair. "Souiel's triumphant return will let him show his former detractors that he was right all along. We want to honor him. We're asking him back to receive a Pyramid Award; proof of his greatness." He has picked up a pen which he uses for emphasis. "Keep that in mind when you speak to him. Now, go. Need I say that you yourself will be in a better dealing position for making films again if you have him as one of your team players. As I'm sure you're aware, nobody has been eager to back you since those two solo flops of yours."

Admonitory glances fall upon Kevin. He takes a deep breath and stands.

Sarro seems lost in thought but his hand beckons Kevin to wait. "You should be taking someone along," he says, thinking aloud.

"Why?"

"There are two tickets here. I don't intend for you to have to go alone. We'll put this companion on the payroll as your personal secretary."

"Fine. I don't want to go alone." He swipes the money and plane tickets from the desk and walks across the room saying, "Come on, Crystal. Let's go."

Crystal, frozen to his chair, shakes his head in negation.

"It'll be fun," urges Kevin. "It's far away."

He shudders, whistles shrilly, eyes sweeping the ceiling.

"Does he need a doctor?" asks Sarro.

Kevin decodes the pantomime. "He doesn't want to go. He doesn't particularly care for Souiel."

"Good because I don't want him to go. He's to take care of the show while you're gone."

Henry is startled but remains patient.

Sarro adds, "I'd rather you pick from someone else here."

Crystal is surprised. He would have gone with moderate urging.

"Why from this pile? What if I want to take my wife?"

"No. This is not a vacation. I want you back as quickly as possible. Besides, I refuse to be responsible for sending you two away together in the light of all that love\death crap you enjoy dishing to the media. Rather, Kevin, I'd feel much better were you to choose from this neutral group of rising personalities, any of whom would be glad to accompany you."

The five fellows try staring back in smiling disbelief. It is as if they were watching a play and a mirror suddenly arose before them.

Henry and Jeff decidedly do not look hopeful since they believe that the real action is in Dieledon and not in the Mirian Peninsula with Kevin; and Henry has a wife and kids to think about.

Robert feels he relates better on a one-to-one basis in intimate surroundings over an extended period of time and, therefore, it would be advantageous for him to accompany Kevin in order to get Kevin dependent on him during that time when he assumes all humans are most vulnerable, in bed.

Peter can not decide because there is a chance he may be able to fulfill like intentions with someone with double the pull here in Dieledon, where the action is more brisk.

Philip thinks nothing on the subject because he is not paying attention to the meeting.

Kevin rudely claps his hands and raises his eyebrows a few times. "I'm impartial. Let your qualifications decide. Anybody here speak Mirian?"

There is no response. Nobody is even looking at Kevin except Robert so, while strolling to the gigue Muzak that permeates the floor, Kevin pretends to be an indecisive woman of the 1890's in front of a selection of hats. He may want Philip but, if he tried for what he wanted he would feel responsible for later action. He turns to Sarro for assistance. "Are you the floorwalker here?"

Sarro lets the question pass. He has been sitting serenely at his desk admiring a slip of paper. "Hm? I don't think anybody really knows how to speak a dialect like Mirian. Please, Kevin. Just decide. What about your friend, Philip?"

"What about him? The one time we met I don't think he spoke two words. I'm not even sure he can speak at all."

He has been so wrapped up in self-consciousness that he has managed not to look closely at anything until this moment. When Sarro specifies Philip, Kevin inadvertently focuses on him.

As he finishes remarking on Philip's apparent lack of vocabulary, his voice looses its sarcastic twang and changes to one of amazement. He stands still watching the lad whose wide eyes are staring patiently back.

The Muzak fades; the lights dim. All becomes darkness and silence around them.

Sarro, still holding the slip of paper, gets out from behind his desk and puts his arm around Kevin, clasping his shoulder. He decides aloud for Kevin by saying, "Him."

ii.

Kevin's stare breaks. He looks about as if suddenly awakened, pleasantly for a change. He agrees with a nod and is about to make a hasty exit but Sarro again beckons him to stay.

"That's fine, Kevin. One more thing. What is your opinion on this girl," he reexamines the paper, "Doreen Farahday; did you decide anything on her?"

"Yes, a born page." Often he makes remarks without thinking.

Sarro looks thoughtfully at Kevin and leans on his desk. "Not exactly what I had in mind. I was thinking of her more in terms of opening the Dieledon Experience. I love tap dancing. It grabs people right away, and she's a pro. She's just what we need to give the show that added flash!" He extemporizes with assurance. "She strides out in a silver band uniform brimming with youthful exuberance as the orchestra plays that great new 'Welcome to Dieledon' song. It stops as she stops, center stage. Silence. The audience breaths apprehensively. Suddenly," he raises his voice, "Crash! Crash! Tada! Tada!"

"The surprise attack effect," says Kevin in deadpan disbelief.

Sarro is in full swing now, combining a love for extravagant backstage movie musicals with memories of the stage shows he witnessed at the Beledon as a child. "She has a solo going from one end of the enormous stage to the other. Tap-tap-tap-tap-tap-tap-tap-tap. The orchestra trumpets a fanfare and then breaks into a march version of the song. The entire company comes out double file like a regiment at her beckoning. The chorus sings in the background. The organs blare, footpedals pounding!" He shakes his fist in the air. He calms abruptly. "Something like that."

Kevin can barely regain balance at the thought. "Mr. Sarro, I . . .. Do you know how many dancers tried out for this show? Maybe a thousand."

"This one is special. Not only is she an intensely exciting, well-built hoofer with one spectacular pair of legs, but she has a big, beautiful," he sighs between words, "honest, open, loving smile." He nods expectantly at Henry. "Right, Henry?"

"She sure does," says Henry, thinking back in wonderment on the moment he first laid eyes on her.

Kevin is busy sorting out adjectives. "Beautiful, big, open, honest?"

"Loving," reminds Sarro with raised index finger.

Kevin looks at Crystal with a puzzled face.

Crystal confirms. "That's the girl with the mouth who arrived with the acrylic. She joined us for lunch at Arnold's."

Henry nods to verify the statement.

The side of Kevin's upper lip curls in disgust. "Oough." He feels such antipathy for the girl that he forces himself to say nothing. He hums with vibrato and walks behind Sarro's desk to the picture window, out of which he stares apprehensively.

"I know what you're thinking," assumes Sarro. "She's too unknown. Nobody has laid eyes on her before. She needs exposure. That's why I'm having her hand out the Pyramid Awards."

"Do you mean to have her walk out onto national television to present every single award?"

"Yes. After the guest presenters do their shtick and announce the winners, she'll come out to distribute the little pyramids. That'll give her some exposure. Maybe she'll even dance out a few times."

He resigns himself to the idea. "Do what you want. Now that you've gotten me out of the way, you needn't care what I think."

Sarro says indignantly, "That's not the case at all. I'm telling you this to ask for your opinion. If you have a better suggestion, then please, I'd like to hear it. I thought it might be nice to give an unknown a break, that's all. It'll give the show some universal appeal."

Kevin's inner bitterness is kept inside where it can do the least immediate harm. This has been his method of discussion over the years; not to let his bile spoil another's pleasant dreams.

He says, "Crystal, I'd like to buy some clothes for this trip. Can you at least come with me to the store?"

"Of course. This isn't anything personal. Is it okay, Mr. Sarro, since he's leaving tonight?"

Kevin turns from the window. "What are you asking him for?"

"Kevin, I work here. I punch a time clock."

His lip curls again. A shudder runs through his spine. Shaking his head, he walks to the other end of the room, opens the thick doors of the office and spots the elevator arriving on the floor across from the steno pool. He calls to Crystal. "I'll hold the elevator," waves a quick, general good-bye to all and rushes off.

Sarro wishes he were less busy so that he and Kevin could talk out any grievances but, alas, there is no time. He turns to Crystal and says, "Go ahead. Everyone else out of the room, too. I want to speak with Philip, alone."

As Crystal leaves the office, he is stopped by Marie who has been quietly sitting outside with the secretaries waiting with a brown paper bag containing Philip's sandwich. Seeing that her protege remains in the office, she becomes excited and tense.

As Marie implores with her eyes, Crystal looks at Kevin, who is impatiently holding the elevator door in the distance. Kevin shakes his head, signalling he is in no mood for further talk, while rapidly tapping his foot. Crystal waves at Kevin to go down without him.

Kevin frees the elevator and shoots down to the lobby to phone the Clairol. Lynn is out so he leaves a message.

Crystal and Marie begin to converse as the doors to Sarro's office are shut behind them.

Inside the office, Sarro beckons Philip closer to the desk.

"Well, Philip, your time here has paid off sooner, perhaps, than you had anticipated. Kevin is a remarkable public figure and he is embarking on a very important journey which, I assure you, will receive ample publicity. He has chosen you to accompany him. He has my taste, Philip. I would have chosen you as well."

Philip, confused, smiles pleasantly. Sarro surprises him by affectionately mussing his hair. He adjusts his glasses and continues. "If you effectively handle your responsibilities, this could be the start of bigger things. Here are your instructions. Please, if you think there'll be a problem with any one of them, by all means say so now.

"In dealing with Kevin Vargas, I've found there have been days in the past, even in the midst of stimulating tasks, when he has lacked the wherewithal to get out of bed so, first of all, make sure he does. The earlier the better, of course, but he must get out of bed. Second, he has to eat. Make sure of this because he forgets and, if he does, he becomes angry and irritable and starts fainting before he remembers. So, say you're hungry. Third, be cheerful and pleasant and this is most important: as you are cheerful and pleasant, talk only of morbid or depressing topics such as sabotage, car accidents, sex problems or political scandal. Kevin is one of those people who enjoys seeing a nuclear holocaust set to easy-listening music, so bear that in mind while conversing with him.

"Now, as to his mission, time is of the essence; so allow me to suggest your actions to ensure its immediate and total success. When he actually goes out to find Souiel, you go with him. Don't let him go alone because he might simply walk thirty times around the block."

Philip looks back, alert and expressionless.

Sarro clarifies, "Make sure he is trying," and continues. "If and when Souiel is found, call this number as soon, and as secretively, as possible. In other words, don't let Kevin know you are calling. Have an exact location ready, and don't be offended if the party on the other end of the line gets a little excited because this person's been looking for Souiel for the past six months. Here's a pad and a pen. The man's name is J. T. McGuilty, and his number is 507650. Let me see."

Philip shows what he has written.

"Good. Keep this paper in a safe and accessible place. If you lose it, put a call through for the Beledon in Dieledon and ask for my office. Somebody here will give you the information."

He readjusts his glasses and continues. "Once you've made this call, you needn't worry about getting Kevin back to retrieve Souiel. McGuilty will take it from there. Your final responsibility is to get Kevin back to Dieledon as quickly as possible. I don't expect miracles from you, but this is what I want, whether Kevin likes it or not. I want them both back in Dieledon by next week, not only to receive their award, but also to address a possible controversy regarding their film, Friends. Within a matter of days some suspicion is going to flare from idle gossip to nationwide scandal, and both Vargas and Souiel will be indispensable so, if all that I've asked of you comes to pass, you will have done everybody a great service. Do you think you can handle this?"

"I'll do the best I can."

"You'll get on well with him, believe me. He already finds you attractive."

"Does he go to the bathroom by himself?"

"Yes, you needn't worry yourself about that. Do I detect in you a sense of humor?" asks Sarro, smiling, hoping to get to know Philip better before they leave his office.

Other voices interrupt them.

"Miss, please!"

"Get out of my way!"

Marie bursts into Sarro's office, the news of Philip's journey still fresh in her ear. "How will this make Philip a star?" She is outraged. "This is not my idea of a big break. Opening the Dieledon Experience, handing out Pyramid Awards, now that's a big break. Going on a vacation with Kevin Vargas? That's my idea of something to worry about."

Fidgeting in the silence, she tries to make light of the matter. "Only here two days and, already, a vacation."

Sarro collectedly speaks. "Calm down, Marie. Philip will be alright. It's only for a short time. He'll get plenty of publicity, and, on a per diem basis, I'll see he gets a week's wages a day. Think of it as an educational experience for him."

He can see her anxiety is undiminished. "What are you so worried about? Kevin's a dear friend of yours, is he not? Surely you can trust him with your darling Philip for a few days."

iii.

"That look real cool, man. Clean. Y'know? No?"

"Yeah yeah, give me a break," says Kevin, waving down his hand at the vaguely foreign, moustachioed salesman, while stepping into the bay of mirrors to examine himself from different angles.

The store ceiling tremors mysteriously.

"Kevin, that is your size," says the toadying saleswoman. "Very classy. Shall I have it wrapped?"

"Hm." Kevin gives her words more consideration, as he finds her own physique to be quite appealing despite her attempt at clothing herself fashionably with puffed out black knickers, and despite her unsound deployment of cosmetics -- whereby an enhancement of the cheekbones is achieved with strategic outlines of rouge from ear to mouth.

She is thin with angular facial features. Her attitude is one of superiority, making it difficult for fellow employees to get to know, let alone, get along with her. This inarticulate individuality is what Kevin likes. He also thinks, but then, what does she know? He must look to a friend for comment.

Crystal has browsed himself to the other end of the store where he is trying on a new belt. He pirouettes in front of a mirror and thinks, it looks just right on me.

Kevin tightens his mouth and puts his fists on his hips. "Crystal?!"

He is relaxed by the old-time movie music (coo-coo music from Hal Roach comedies) playing on the radio. He turns back to the mirrors to reexamine the safari suit he is wearing and discovers a pouch sewn into the back of the shirt, perhaps to carry a monkey. He nearly asks about it, but there is a loud clunk from above. "What is that noise?" he asks, instead.

The salesman retorts, "Noise?" as if he intends to challenge Kevin's ears.

They are interrupted by a buzz at the front door. The visitor is let in with a second buzz. She walks to the back of the shop. "Going on a safari, Kevin?"

"Ah, Mrs. Wargus," says the salesman with a hand flourish. "Drink?" He motions to a portable bar.

She declines while pursing her lips at being called Mrs. Wargus.

"Hello, Lynn. Isn't this a classy outfit," asks the saleswoman with unexpected familiarity. Lynn is aghast at her misconceived appearance, but remains polite.

The saleswoman was referring to Kevin's apparel, so Lynn directs her attention to that. "I suppose it is appropriate. It's linen?"

"Naturally. Guaranteed to wrinkle."

Kevin decides, a little sadly, "It's comfortable. I'll have to take it. Lynn, look at that other stuff." He points to a pile.

She picks through the clothes.

"What's this, a bathing suit, or a sock?" she asks. She dangles a piece of nylon.

The message Kevin left at the Clairol announcing his imminent departure would have annoyed her had she not been forewarned by Sarro. She decides to be blase.

"It's a shame you have to leave tonight when you already made plans to watch TV."

She wanders around, examining the racks of suits, shaking her head with regret.

"You'll be missing one of the best Lotzagratz exposes in recent weeks."

She examines fabric and tries on a jacket for size. This is a men's store so its personnel are frustrated with indecision over whether or not to make a sales pitch.

"In Case You Forgot," she announces. "It's all about the concentration camp counselors, a sick bunch." Wearing the padded business jacket, she approaches Kevin. "Sorry, but I had to tell you." With a mechanical motion she swings her arm around and lands it squarely on his shoulder.

The saleswoman can not restrain herself. "That looks wonderful on you. It can be taken in."

Kevin silently agrees with the woman and says, "What can I do? Duty calls. We'll just have to phone your parents and have them tape it. I mean, I have to go. He's refused to call, won't come to a telephone; we certainly can't expect him to pen a postcard." He resigns himself with a breath of air. "I must go there and see to him personally, slap his face, get his shoes and socks on and bring him back home in time for the awards."

"Oh," she drawls with disappointment. "The first time you receive proof of your greatness and now you'll have to share it." She pouts. "And with someone who so dislikes you." She puts her arms around him and brushes her fingers against his face.

He climbs out of his safari pants and offers them to the salesman. "Can you have these hemmed so I can wear the outfit home?"

"For you, Mr. Wargus, we shall see." The man briskly walks into a back room beyond the shopping depths of this cavernous store.

Crystal is at the front desk paying for his new belt, which turns out to be made of ostrich skin.

Lynn approaches him. "You're travelling light, I see."

"I'm not going." He shows her the belt.

"Nice dye. Surely he won't be going alone."

"No. He's going with Philip Vine. Do you know Philip? Philip's wife said you

knew her."

Lynn is very impressed, as well as being outraged, at this convenient opportunity.

Crystal continues, taking an assessment of her frozen face. "Her name is Marie. She was upset, too. Philip, though, has remained affable."

"Has he?" She picks up the belt again for a closer look.

Crystal says, "I'd go myself, but I'm not especially fond of Souiel. He was too selfish to be much of a friend to me. He never cared what I thought. He only used me. I became a victim of his warped imagination. Insomniac is testimony to that fact. He turned me into a masochist, as if I enjoyed being beaten for my kindness; as though I brought it on myself and somehow deserved to be trampled upon." He shrugs passively. "I must admit, though, that he's fascinating and I, too, look forward to his return."

"Especially fascinating is the price tag on this belt."

Kevin crawls over and bites Lynn's leg. His pants have been altered, and now he is experimenting with the outfit.

"Oh, hello," says she, looking down.

He pounces to his feet. "Hey, I need all this stuff ready by this evening!"

"Santos," says the salesgirl, who finds her customer delightful. "See if Mr. Vargas' clothes cannot be ready by tonight, hm?"

The salesman glares at her and again goes into the back room.

"Why aren't you taking me with you, Kevin?" asks Lynn.

He speaks in falsetto. "Lynn, don't be silly. This is a business trip."

"Yes, for businessmen like you and Philip."

"Did Crystal tell you? And we were talking about him only this morning."

"Impressive," she nods, knowingly.

"It restores my faith in circumstance. I honestly didn't plan anything," he explains with guilt in his voice. "He was there. Marie works fast. Two days ago I casually suggested she sit him in Sarro's office and today, there he is, all cleaned up and waiting."

"Well, I wish you only the best on your mission. I hope you find what you're looking for, wink!" She winks.

They shake hands. "Aw, gee, thanks Lynn and, hey! Thanks for dropping by."

"It was nothing. I phoned the Clairol to make our dinner reservations, oh . . .. Are you eating with me tonight?"

"That would be nice. I'm booked on a late flight so we can have some time together before I depart."

"Good. As I was saying, I phoned the Clairol and they gave me your message. Among other things, you mentioned you were going clothes shopping and I knew there was only one store nearby with a selection in your size and, since I was right upstairs taking a karate lesson . . .."

There is a clunk from above.

"Oh, is that what that noise is?"

"Yes. So here I am, joining you for your last fleeting hours in the city." She kisses

his nose. "I know why we're not going together. Sarro thinks I'm a bad influence, especially when you have something important to do. He imagines us out of his control, far away, by day by the sea, by night at the hotel, doing drugs and deeds of no conceivable use to anyone."

"How poetic. We must plan ahead. Actually, I rather fancy he's worried by what I might do to you. He'll be pleased about your karate lessons. Was it his idea? It's a good self defense."

The saleswoman says, "Your clothes will be ready at seven P.M., as per your request."

"Box them and send them to the Clairol with the bill. How's that?"

"Fine. I sincerely hope you enjoy your purchases. It has been a pleasure doing business with you, sir."

"Madame." Kevin shakes her hand, too.

He, Lynn and Crystal stroll out of the shop. Kevin remarks, "Look. This year's limousine."

Lynn says, "It's ours. He picks me up after my lesson."

"Why take karate if you're not walking the streets?" he asks.

"It's for you."

In the limo, Kevin demands an answer from Crystal. "So where's Peter Robbins?"

"He's been touring. He's supposed to arrive today."

Lynn says, "I've heard of him."

Kevin tells her, "He's performing my number in the show."

"Good for you. Is he as gay as he purports to be?"

"Look, Lynn. I'm not interested in his blue persuasion, only in his voice, looks," he considers this, "and of course, his poisonality."

"Sometimes coming out of the closet is good publicity," explains Crystal.

"Perhaps," concedes Lynn, "But I'm so thankful my husband is more gay than he purports to be."

iv.

"Well, well," says Lynn in singsong. "Here we are, back at the hotel."

They are standing in the center of the lobby.

"What now?" she asks.

"Gee, I don't know. I took a shower, I ate, but hell, that was a while ago. I went shopping. What else is there?"

She whispers in his ear, "Let's go upstairs and try having sex before you go."

"In that case, we should eat again."

They are accosted by a tightly dressed fellow wearing a skinny tie. "I've been looking for you." He points at Kevin, whom he thrills.

"Peter Robbins, hello! Let's practice!" Kevin shakes his hand, heartily.

As Lynn shakes her head she is touched lightly on the shoulder. She turns around. "Hello. Marie, isn't it? Why so glum?"

Marie is beside her, wearing a frown. "Philip is out getting a passport. Can he get one so fast?"

Lynn answers gently, "I suppose, if it's an emergency."

Marie appears lost. She falters, turns in her feet and asks, "Can I talk to you?"

Kevin interrupts. "Since I'm leaving tonight we're going to rehearse now. How'd you like to hear the song Peter is doing in the show?" He is running in place.

Lynn pats him to calm him down. "Not now, Kevin. You go ahead. Marie and I are going to have a talk about our dearly departing husbands."

"Forget that." His eyes twinkle with the desire to shock Marie. "This is more interesting. Peter does a seductive march song climaxing with a big battle scene where thirty guys dressed and made up to look exactly like him dance with each until they get each other hot. Of course, for now you'll have to use your imagination."

Peter Robbins backs away as if Kevin has released a foul smell.

Marie sneeringly says, "Thanks, but no."

Lynn adds, "At this moment, I doubt Marie is in the mood for a theatrical display of homosexual narcissism. Dinner is at six."

Kevin aims his trigger finger at them and says, "Catch you later." He, Crystal, and a disenchanted Peter Robbins, walk off in search of a piano.

Lynn and Marie are seated and tea is ordered.

Lynn opens the conversation. "Can you believe that dance number? I know for a fact that Sarro isn't going to use it in The Dieledon Experience. It's not exactly tourist fare."

"Thank God, Lynn. It's terrible. How can your husband even consider that for such an audience?"

"He's in his own little world, which he enjoys colliding with the real world. If the public finds his work at all agreeable it's because he's been distilled by a genius like Sarro. For example, with that dance number; rather than dressing the men identically, Sarro intends to have each wear a uniform that a tourist might see about town. One will wear the garb of a construction worker, another that of a policeman or fireman, others; a motorcyclist, an army veteran, et cetera. They'll still dance together but to a march glorifying something uniquely Dieledonian, like the M.R.S., the Men's Reclamation Center."

"That's much better."

Lynn proudly adds, "Sarro and I revised it the other night." Her arms fold on the table as she leans forward.

Marie is reminded. "I saw you sitting together at his party on Tuesday. How close are you two?"

"He taught a film course I took at Maxwell House some years ago and we've been friends ever since."

Marie is impressed by Maxwell House, a prestigious university whose college she might have attended had she set her mind to it. "Did you graduate from there?"

"I did. I majored in Political Philosophy with minors in Greek and Latin. That was when I was at the height of my modelling career."

Marie's eyes intensify with admiration and then become quizzical. "How did you wind up with Kevin Vargas?" She asks hesitantly, as if Lynn's judgment may have been faulty in this area.

"He's not always this irritating. He just doesn't want to bring back Souiel. He's behaving like a brother who wishes he were an only child."

Marie is tempted to raise the issue that Kevin is also apparently interested in another man, her Philip, but she tactfully decides against it. Her admiration for Lynn is now mixed with compassion.

Lynn does not appreciate the look, but it appears genuine and she finds it pleasantly unchallenging. She can read Marie's face like a book. The eyebrows are curving together; the jaw is dropping. These are signs that portend another question still forming in Marie's brain.

"How did you and Kevin meet?"

In understanding Marie, Lynn is put at ease. She answers freely. "I first met him on the screen in Sarro's film class. Sarro based entire lectures on two of Kevin's films. When we finally met face to face a few weeks later, he was like a celebrity to me, although he wasn't nearly as well known back then. Sarro introduced us proper at a DeKooning exhibition. Kevin was wearing a soft brown suit that accentuated his thin frame. His complexion was smooth and he had a blurred glaze over his eyes, as if he had just gotten out of bed. He was unlike any other man I'd met. I could talk to him. He was so frail and fragile and he didn't seem to realize it. He thought he was strong and impregnable, like a rock. I thought that was adorable."

Marie sips her tea, eying Lynn from behind the cup. "Were you seeing others at the time?"

"A few fellows, off and on, but I couldn't stand being with any one of them for very long. Either they considered me a gift which they deserved since they were prime catches themselves, or they considered me a purchase which they, though charmless and undeserving of my looks, were wealthy enough to take out for the night. And with all of them I was around to impress their friends. There was no need to marry for their money or prospects, so I didn't."

Marie wishes she could say the same. "You didn't need to. You had your modelling career."

Lynn could laugh. "My father is a second generation surgeon and I'm his only child. What I wanted was a companion, good looking, interesting and important without being wrapped up in a rat race. I needed a boy and Kevin needed a girl. We became socialites. People thought us an attractive couple and we enjoyed ourselves in each other's company. We weren't possessive; it just happened there was no other whom we'd rather be with. We were seen together at premiers of films, plays and exhibits. We'd dance till dawn. Everyone in Dieledon knew us. His films were achieving cult status throughout the city so it was good for him to be seen; and I was the one responsible for getting him out of his shell which, at the time, was Crystal's apartment where he had been living."

"Oh." Marie recognizes the name. "I like Crystal."

"I've never been close to him. He and Kevin go back to childhood together." She continues. "Anyway, when my father met Kevin he noticed that I was responding as I hadn't with other males, and I'll bet he sensed that Kevin wasn't the possessive type who'd steal me away. One time, when Kevin stayed over, we awoke to find the house empty. It was a Sunday. My mother was hosting a club function and my father, who was making the rounds, left a note saying that he planned to join her. They weren't going to be back until that evening, as if to allow us privacy to get better acquainted. Until that day, though we'd often spoken clinically of other's sex lives, we never touched each other with an intent to go further."

Marie's hands drop to the table. "But did you do it in your parent's house?"

"Fortunately, we had all day with time to relax in the whirlpool. Something finally clicked and we did."

Marie stares, a befuddled expression on her face.

Lynn helpfully literalizes. "It clicked. It's a switch on the side of the tub."

Dumbfounded, she suddenly realizes Lynn is joking. She chuckles uncomfortably. "Ha ha."

Lynn looks away, relaxed in the tea room. She concludes, "That evening, when my parents returned, we announced our intent to marry. My father said he wasn't losing a daughter but gaining a son. That's funny because we had a son who is living with them today."

"You gave birth?" She appears horrified.

"I don't suppose you and Philip have children?"

Marie shakes her head at that inconceivable possibility.

Lynn exhales in agreement. "I wasn't ready for it either. It was difficult to accept that something was germinating in my stomach. I don't even remember the last four months. Then, after it was born I played the young mother, cuddling and feeding it. Unfortunately, I was often called away and our house was large and drafty, so when my mother suggested they take it --" she corrects ourself, "him, our boy -- to the warmer climate where they were relocating, I agreed. They always wanted another child and my mother couldn't bear any more after giving birth to me so it worked out well, don't you think?"

Marie nods in earnest, ready to agree with Lynn on anything.

"I see my son often. He's rather sickly. I see my parents often. They're looking well for their age. I just don't see Kevin that often."

"That's too bad," she says sympathetically.

"In a way it's good. We don't get tired of each other and I find that, over the years, my understanding of him grows while my affection for him remains undiminished. Unless life holds more surprises than I've imagined --" She blows the heavens a kiss. "I doubt we'll divorce."

"Then this trip doesn't worry you?"

"Only in that it drags up the past and intensifies Kevin's urge to live up to the monster image he created for himself back then. As for his leaving, I'm not waiting in this hotel any more so, if you were serious about wanting to meet my designer, I'm going there tomorrow and then I'm checking out."

Marie has stopped listening and answers her own question. "Well, it worries me. I doubt Philip's been out of my sight his whole life." She angers. "And suddenly this stupid trip. Who is this Soo-eel and why can't they leave him where he is?" She throws up her hands in exasperation.

v.

During dinner, Lynn reacts to her conversation with Marie. "I can't figure it out. Is he her husband or her son?"

"Did she talk like she was his mother?" He separates the cocoon of food and sticks a piece in his mouth.

"She certainly did. I think it'll be good for him to get away. You're probably doing them both a favor."

"Thanks."

"How was rehearsal?"

"He sang the song a couple of times but he's not exactly into it. He doesn't think my version of 'Welcome to Dieledon' says anything positive about the gay community. I didn't know how to react since I wanted him to do the song."

"Are you attracted to him?"

"Not at all."

Philip has his passport. It has his full name, Philip Vine, and an ugly picture. He is sitting on the hotel bed studying it. Marie presents him with the oldest and oddest of their cash to be passed off to full advantage on the Mirian Peninsula.

"Take them with you. They're of no use to us here."

"Marie, why don't we just burn them before they get us into trouble."

"That's a lot of pestos, and I can't bear to think it's worthless. In a foreign country, they won't know the difference. I'm putting them in your toiletry bag."

"Fine."

"And Philip, I have something else to say. I know life hasn't been good to us so far, but please come back to me. Don't forget me here. Don't leave me alone."

Philip pages through his passport, leaving Marie to pack his knapsack.

As they leave the restaurant, Lynn says, "I told Marie the story of our relationship, and it made me wonder: if theirs is mother/son, what's ours?"

"Brother/sister?" he suggests.

They enter the elevator as if they are strangers. As it speeds up the building, distancing them from the ground, they feel pressure tumbling into them. Their eyes cloud. Rising, they forget about themselves as human personalities with standards, conflicts and practical desires. Rather, they only think of themselves as two conscious entities taking advantage of a mysterious bodily consolation.

They breeze to the far end of the silent hall and stop at the entrance to their suite, a door distinguishable only by its room number. Kevin, with one hand, searches for its key, clasping Lynn's chin with the other. Running his tongue along the tips of her lips leaves her mouth slightly opened, sly and apprehensive.

The key is twisted into the lock and, with a sharp nudge, the seal is broken and the door, sucked open on their freshly made room. The last light of day filters in shafts through drawn blinds.

Kevin says, "I spoke with the Bryants at the bar before dinner. Bob's got a new car he wants me to see, so he's offered Philip and me a ride to the airport. We're to meet at the bar around ten."

He slurps at the glint of light in her eyes. She acknowledges with a nod. He unzips the back of her skirt, lifting it over her head. It lands on a chair.

He stares quizzically at her panties, she at his pants. He questioningly brushes his fingers between her legs, feeling there for an answer as she breathes deeply, flaring her nostrils.

He kneels on the carpet to embrace her waist, rubbing his face against her. She bends out at her knees like a frog and begins to unbutton his shirt which she pulls down to his elbows, exposing his back; and, by gripping his reddening armpits, she tries to pull him up.

He collapses from the kneel to sit on his ankles, pulling her panties to her knees, then puts his tongue between her thighs, saying, "I wish we were just out of the ocean."

She grabs his head, clinging as if it were a buoy, and kneels to the floor, saying, "I'd rather be in the ocean." She pushes her hand, palm out, between his legs.

He grabs her wrist, holding it ineffectually as she grins and undoes his pants.

They are rising to stand up tall, on tiptoes.

Her legs kick off her shoes and maneuver off her panties until she is wearing only a blouse.

She leans against his leg, rubbing the fabric of his pants. As he tries to embrace her, she pulls down his pants and underpants in a single motion. Then she backs away to watch the results of this sudden unmasking as his penis rapidly unfolds.

She nervously outstretches her hand to lightly touch its head.

He becomes very still and serious as she playfully wraps her fingers around it and, with the other hand, pokes underneath. He tightens his entire body, throws his shoulders and head back and tries to move his legs without success.

He interrupts the quiet breathing to say, "Wait a minute."

She lets go so that he may sit on the floor to remove pants and shoes.

They resume.

She reaches inside herself for moisture which is massaged between his legs.

His eyes appear glazed. Like a blind man, he cups his hand between her thighs, middle finger prodding her.

Also with glazing eyes, she grabs his wrist and rubs his veins as he seeps in deeper.

After they have sufficiently worked at each other, he steadies her swaying hips. Still standing, she helps him aim and he attempts to thrust himself into her. When he is securely fit, they freeze, amazed expressions on their faces, only their posteriors moving as they rhythmically loosen and tighten muscles, as though sensitized internal machinery does the work for them.

They remove their shirts and rub against each other's breasts; then, bending back at the hips which they hold for support, they strain into a more strenuous posture and again freeze except for their buttocks pinching in and out.

This pattern of stretching and twisting around each other, swaying at the hips with each movement and then stopping as though caught in a snapshot, continues for nearly twenty-five minutes with enough stills to fill a gallery, the purpose being to stay as close to the edge of orgasm as possible.

At irregular intervals, Lynn spasms and slides off, slipping down one or the other of Kevin's legs.

They begin again, still standing, each time more frenzied, taking full advantage of the spacious room, sweating as they become more excited, dripping, leaking and leaning into one another with growing pressure, their faces mapping the strain.

Kevin grabs Lynn's arms, parting them from his rib cage. She bites at his face and, for a moment, their teeth interlock, the closest they come to a kiss.

He releases her arms and lifts her off the ground, clawing desperately at her buttocks, moving forward into the wall with a thud, crushing his knuckles.

They fall seated to the floor.

He rises to his feet, head swaying as though sparks are cracking inside. His shaking hands surround his neck and then, palms out and fingers spaced apart, they crank over his shoulders as he declares, "I'm alive."

"Owww," says Lynn as she crawls away, rubbing the lower end of her spine.

After loosening his stiffened neck and shoulders, Kevin follows her to the bathroom, rather clumsily, first stopping to turn on the television.

As they scrub and brush themselves with the aid of the sinks and mirrors, the television sound fades in.

"We'll be back with more news and weather but first, these words: Do you have trouble biding your time? Can't get to sleep at night?"

The bathroom is white tiled and brightly lit, its stringent high wattage especially strong in comparison with the bedroom where the television emits a bluish glow.

"And now for the five day forecast. Say good-bye to the sun because it's rain, rain and more rain through Saturday and this is nothing compared with what's to come. Let's have a look at the satellite photograph."

The television screen is a mass of grey.

"As we can see from this formation of nimbostratus clouds, there is yet another storm brewing out at sea, only this one's serious and our Sunday depends on How and How Fast it travels. At present, it's ambling slowly in our direction and if its course and speed remain unchanged it won't hit us till Monday and Sunday will be another glorious day like today."

The preppy weatherman smiles benevolently at a still naked but well combed naked but well combed and

cleaned Lynn and cleaned Lynn and Kevin.

Kevin. Kevin is He continues, "Hopefully,

leaning forward Sunday will be spared because

against Lynn's back, when the storm arrives, it's

his arms around her hitting hard with continuous

waist, his cold showers till the middle next

hands surrounding week. Monday and Tuesday

her warm stomach. promise to be washed off the

She shivers and turns calendar, so you commuters

her head to him, have your rain gear and

whispering, "I'm Goulashes at the ready and send

amazed you were able the toddler to school with a

to get hard. I life preserver. Wednesday

thought once was your should bring an end to this

limit per day." precipitation but it's too

"When else today early to say for sure. People

did I . . .? Oh, in living in areas prone to

the shower. I flooding should be sure their

attribute this second home insurance premiums are

performance to the up to date."

dinner we had. The

shad roe was supreme."

Chapter Four

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storm cloud -- dizozza