Ira Levin (20 page)

    Violet-robed Diane did the serving, her cowl back from her feathered, lately darkened hair-looking great, flushed from the dance and obviously fully recovered from her bout with sciatica. She silver-ladled the creamy cream into everyone's silver cups as the robes all mingled and chatted, all the cowls back, Hank in his chair laughing red-faced at something William was saying, each with a silver cup in hand.

    Sitting in near darkness on the top step, at the greenroom side of the curve, Rosemary kept her cowl up, though there was probably no need to. No one had so much as glanced at her since Andy had shepherded her up there when the dance was ending. The two of them had eaten there, from plates he had gone down and gotten, along with cups of the terrific eggnog. They had both been ravenous, not having had much more than the pastrami sandwiches all day.

    He came mountain-goating up the steps now with refills, a cup in each hand, all black against the light of the stage. She looked away anyway.

    The robes had a tendency to slide open-which had become apparent when the dance sped up a bit after everyone had sat and talked with him.

    He gave her a silver cup, sat on the step a few feet from her, closer to the curve's center, tucking his robe around him. "You can take the cowl off if you want," he said. "You're almost invisible, and anyway they know. Nobody thought I'd bring a date-date so soon, so who else could it be? Vanessa was sure." He sipped from his silver cup.

    She lifted the cowl back, fixed her hair. "What's their reaction?" she asked.     

    "They're glad you're here," he said, "and they understand if you don't want to mingle. They hope you'll join in another dance but won't be hurt if you don't."

    She sipped from the silver cup. "Meaning at another party or tonight?" she asked.

    "Tonight," he said. "There'll be two or three more. Faster, different." He sipped from his silver cup.

    "Oh," she said. Took another sip from hers.

    "If you're tired, I've got some pills."

    "No, no, I'm fine," she said.

    "Harmless," he said. "I get them from Also downstairs."

    "No, I'm fine," she said. "Second wind."

    "Andy!" Sandy stood at the rim of the stage, peering up toward them. "Can I speak to you for a minute?" Sounding peeved.

    He groaned, putting his cup down, getting up. "Back in a minute, I hope." He jogged down the steps, holding his robe around him.

    Rosemary lifted herself, hitched at the silk, shifted, settled into a more comfortable position against the carpet at her back and beneath her, snugged the robe. She picked up the silver cup and sipped, watching Andy on the softly lit stage listening to some disagreement between Sandy and Diane. He strolled with them, his hands on their shoulders, to the far side of the stage, followed them through the door to the offices and storerooms.

    She savored the creamy nog, sweet-tart and tannissy; savored the shimmery old-new music idling all around her, the druidic forest-primeval flavor of the candlelit stage-the spotlights dimming now as dark robes, Kevin and Craig, lifted the table with the punch bowl on itbeautiful silver bowl, Diane's or (Ec's?-and carried it into the corner beyond the green-room door. Clearing the stage for the next dance…

    Faster, different…

    Jimmy Durante had put it so well: Did you ever have the feeling that you wanted to go and still have the feeling that you wanted to stay right-brace She chuckled, recalling him.

    High. You are very high. Slightly high, anyway. The rum or vodka or whatever was in the nog. Or maybe it was the tannis-in there and in the air. She hardly noticed the smell now, but braziers smoldered at the corners of the stage, their smoke swirling up into pastel pillars. Beautiful…

    Like the time she'd smoked pot with Guy and it worked, that's how she felt-the music so ultra-clear, her skin so ultra-tingly, sensing the silk against it, the carpet through the silk-but in this instance with her mental faculties completely unfogged, sharp as a tack. She sipped from the silver cup. Could tannis and cannabis be related? A dark climber stopped two steps below. Bowed. "Please pardon me, Rosemary," Yuriko said. "I'm so happy to see you here. May I speak with you a moment while Andy's away?"

    Sitting straight, putting the cup aside, she smiled and said, "Of course, Yuriko, please sit down!" She closed her robe more snugly. "I've been hoping we'd get another chance to talk."

    "Thank you, so have I," he said, seating himself on the step below her, a few feet to her left, the angled planes of his cheek and jawbone gleaming in the light from the stage. Extremely handsome. Forty-nine, divorced, two married children. She had checked with Judy the day after the impromptu party in Andy's office.

    She'd seen Hiroshima Mon Amour not all that long ago, or so it seemed; the man in that had been an architect too. Yuriko was GCNY'S, the amphitheater's designer; he oversaw the design of all of GC'S worldwide projects and headed his own firm too, one of the most highly regarded in the profession.

    "How go the computer lessons?" he asked, smiling up at her.

    "They're one of my New Year's resolutions," she said. "Top of the list."

    "I have only one," he said. "To slow down. I'm going to be fifty next year; that makes a man think. GC has no upcoming projects for me, I'm fortunate in having surrounded myself with capable associates-and so I've resolved to take some time off and "smell the roses." his

    "I'm all for that," Rosemary said, smiling down at him, leaning forward, her hands folded on her knees.

    "I watched part of the "All-Holy-Days Special" tonight," Yuriko said, looking up at her. "Andy's part. I always do, even though I have everything on tape; it's somehow not the same, is it? I came away from it, as always, as from everything he does-I speak as if I'm unique"-he smiled-"I came away from it with a renewed sense that he truly is a celestial being, no matter how he tries to pretend he's a mere human. And of course, sitting with him tonight (jnly strengthened the feeling. There's nothing I wouldn't do for him." He sighed. "I truly believe he's going to be ranked among the immortals," he said. "The Lighting, I believe, is going to be a watershed event in the history of humanity, and at the same time a magnificent work of art, all the greater because of its transitory nature."

    "That's just how I feel, Yuriko," Rosemary said, leaning down closer to him. "I've told Andy that; I'm so glad you agree."

    "Seeing you here tonight," he said to her, "makes me more certain than ever that he-and you too-are true divinities. I mean that with all my heart. What ordinary mortal could share this with his mother?" He gestured around them. "What ordinary mother could share it?" He smiled at her, dazzlingly. "Myths will grow around you. Does that make any sense?"

    She smiled back her dazzlingest. "No," she said.

    "I suppose the tannis is speaking," he said, still smiling.

    "The tannis?" she said.

    "The

    incense," he said, pointing. "It's derived from the leaves of an Egyptian plant that's a kin of the Indian hemp plant, the source of cannabis." "I thought I was

    getting a little high," she said.

    "Everyone is by now," he said, "but even when I'm not, I regard you as a celestial being-and so I sit below you. At your feet." His head of jet hair bent.

    She gaped. Her toes kissed by surprise-a first, and not bad.

    Yuriko stood, offered a hand to her, smiling. "Come dance again," he said. "This one is fun."

    The robes were forming a circle in the candlelit, pastel-pillared dusk-violet and black robes coming onto the stage, Andy looking at her as she stood.

    She watched her feet, holding the robe closed with an arm as Yuriko helped her down the steep steps. The music grew louder, a twining woodwind, a driving drumbeat faster than before.

    When they reached the corner of the stage and stood face-to-face, he slightly taller, she said, "I'm sorely tempted, Yuriko, but I'm very, very tired, I've had an incredibly long day."

    He bowed to her hand and kissed it, something touching the backs of her fingers. She said, as he stood straight, "What a handsome pendant."

    "Isn't it?" he said, holding it forward from the V of his robe: a circle of silver, a teardrop bent on itself, hanging on a black cord.

    She leaned to it in the forest shade. "Does it have a special significance?" she asked.

    He said, "I don't know what the designer intended; to me it suggests life's continuity, the continuity of all things." He let the pendant fall against his chest.

    "It's lovely," she said.

    He smiled. "It caught my eye," he said. "I have another resolution now: to invite you to dinner in the new year."

    She smiled and said, "I resolve to accept."

    They smiled at each other as he withdrew toward the circle, bowing. She looked for Andy's black robe. No cowls for this dance, and a pale greet rope or vine held in everyone's both hands.

    No Andy, no black robe. Violet though, amid the dark ones. The drum jumped louder; the vine-linked circle stepped to its beat, began turning clockwise.

    She watched a moment, then turned and went into the green room, winced against its light as she drew the door closed. The music shrank into the speaker on her right.

    Andy sat looking at her, sitting on the sofa in his black robe, a cookie in his hand. "I thought you and Yuriko-was

    She shook her head, blinking. Glanced above, headed across the room toward the snack table. "Why aren't you?"

    He shrugged. "This dance can get raunchy," he said, "and Diane must have gone heavy on the rum. I was coming to get you, but then I saw you coming down with him, and I felt…" He shrugged. "I figured I'd wait," he said.

    She took a handful of cookies, walked back toward the sofa.

    He moved over.

    She sat down, put the cookies on the trunk in a heap between them. Sat back and nibbled one. "Do you know that tannis is related to cannabis?" she asked.

    "You're kidding," he said. "I'm shocked. Shocked." She gave him a look. "No wonder you're hooked on all this stuff," she said. "I never, never should have let you go over that first time, to Minnie and Roman's."

    "I'm not hooked on anything," he said, turning to her, "and don't start blaming yourself; you had no choice." He watched her a moment as she drew a breath. "Plenty of women," he said, touching her shoulder, "would have just taken off as soon as they could, and left me with them, period."

    She sighed. "Some, I guess," she said.

    "Plenty," he said. Kissed her temple. She touched his hand on her shoulder,- they smiled at each other.

    He turned and picked up a Coke, drank.

    She reached. He gave her the can; she put it to her lips, drank. Gave the can back to him. He put it to his lips, drank.

    She sat looking at Sandy's rounded silver paperweight gleaming on the slips of paper. Shook her head as if to clear it.

    "So are you satisfied now?" he asked, putting the can down, sitting back, his hand taking hers between them. "Did you find any Satanism out there? Any witchcraft? Did anybody pressure you to do anything horrendous?"

    "No…" she said, sitting back. The drum drove faster, louder, from the speaker, through the door. "Is this Hank's too?" she asked.

    "No," he said, "it's some French group, I think."

    They sat back, listening.

    He switched her hand into his other hand, put his arm around her shoulders. She settled back against him, sighing. Closed her eyes. He kissed her temple. Her cheek. The corner of her mouth.

    "Andy…"

    "One chaste kiss…" caret caret So caret from caret caret SffLJ

    Drum-driven high on a blissful tide, she opened her eyes to herself on the sofa, arms clutching his black-robed back, a hand in his hair as her throat was bitten. Closed her eyes… Held him tightly as he held her, skin against skin, his knees spreading her thighs. A jungle bird screamed; she looked toward the speaker and saw a sign. Froze seeing it.

    She saw it straight through the mirrored ceiling-the only patch of blue-sky blue in all the forest green, a rectangle with black letters across its middle.