Innocent Little Crimes (19 page)

Abruptly, the power came back on. Millie
gasped in surprise. For a moment they all looked at one another.
The bright light betrayed their tired, bleary faces.

Lila blew out the candles and smiled.

“Fine. Three to go.”

Chapter 19

Lila stretched, working the kinks out
of her back. “So you all want to know what little ol’ me has been
up to? All in good time, kiddies. All in
my
good time.”

Out of the corner of his eye, Jonathan
caught Davis swaying, so drunk, he looked about to fall off the
bench. A deck light came on. He could make out Cynthia huddled
against the cold. He chuckled. How the gods have fallen. Davis
would have to answer to his pretty little fiancée when they got
back to Marin. Maybe the honeymoon was over—before the wedding even
took place. And Dick and Millie, at opposite ends of the room,
avoided each other’s eyes. He’d just love to hear
their
conversation on the way home.
And Peter, Lila’s cute slave, sulking against the wall. Fag coward,
unable to stand up to Lila. But Della delighted him the most. She
looked like a statue in her chair. Something made of stone. Lila
really did a number on her.

He glanced at Lila. She was waiting,
like some predatory animal, undoubtedly ready to devour him. He
hoped it wouldn’t be too painful. He thought of the joke from
earlier in the evening: the man in the bathroom chanting, “she’s
not my wife, she’s not my wife.” He bolstered himself up with his
own litany. “She’ll buy my script. She’ll buy my script.”
Okay, Lila, do your worst.

“Well, gang,” she said, slurring her words,
“we’re getting closer to bringing this suspenseful game to its
heart-stopping conclusion.”

Millie moaned. “Then let’s get it over with
already.”

“We won’t go into the details of your sordid
sexual behavior, dear Jonny. That comes with the territory, so to
speak. No one in middle America has sex the way Hollywood
does.”

Jonathan laughed. “Do they have sex?”

“You take pride in making my career, in
‘discovering’ my talent, right Jonny? I remember the encouragement
you gave me in college. All that reassurance. Arranging those late
night rehearsals with Davis, so the scenes would be perfect. Going
over those lines, over and over again.” Lila’s voice deepened.
“`Look, Baby, I’m a poor bastard, and I gotta claim what’s mine,
Baby! You’re the only real thing I ever had—ever! Baby, kiss me
goodbye!”

Lila turned to Davis. “Come on, loverboy, you
remember the words. We rehearsed them fifty times. Don’t you
remember what Jonathan used to say? ‘Kiss her again, Davis. Come
on, more emotion, more fervor.’ Remember?”

“I can’t remember anything right at the
moment, Madge.”

“She’s not Madge, she’s Lila,” Jonathan said.
“Boy, are you drunk.”

“So are you.”

“So what?”

“Boys, boys,” Lila said. “I am most certainly
drunk, but I remember. All of it. The darkened stage, the
spotlight. The unbearable pounding of my heart.” Lila’s voice grew
wistful. “Davis’s arms holding me tight, his lips warm on
mine.”

“Are you trying to make us puke?” Dick called
from the corner.

“Stick to comedy,” Della muttered.

Lila snapped out of her reverie; her words
made Jonathan jump. “Your great career. I’ll tell you about your
career. You glad-handed everyone in Hollywood, hung out on the
tennis courts in Malibu, slept with any woman who you could step on
to get higher up the ladder.”

Dick snorted. “Hey, Jonny, just like
Della.”

“Finally, you made a good score. Jack
Harwood, the producer, had a daughter. She was a pig, but hey,
screwing her landed you a spot on his series. That started you
working in episodes for years, doing schlock directing. What did
you call it—the armpit of Hollywood? And then, things got even
better. Suddenly, out of nowhere comes this offer to do a
movie-of-the-week. And then a miniseries. You’re on a roll. On your
way to the big time. So you dump wife number one. Don’t need her or
her producer-daddy anymore. Then, as the money rolls in, you start
spending and marry prettier, younger wife number two. Her daddy is
in the movie business. Good-bye TV. And she spends your money even
faster than you do.”

Jonathan felt his heart slam against his
chest. Where the hell was she leading? The others in the room sat
motionless. The room was so quiet he could hear the wind howling
through the trees.

“Now you’re in deep. You’re even hungrier
than ever. The big prize is features and you want in badly. Wifey’s
daddy doesn’t help, but you’re sure you can make it on your talent.
And each time it looks like it’s about to happen, the deal falls
through. Up, down, up, down. You hire and fire every agent in town.
Funny, you just can’t seem to get a feature in your greedy
clutches. This goes on for years. Your second wife outlives her
usefulness—introduce wife number three. By now, your money runs out
and you have to sell your precious possessions. You get sullen and
grumpy. Impossible to live with. And Vanessa walks. So, now you’re
desperate. You take another schlock TV movie to tie you over,
because the big one is finally about to happen. But, sorry. Evans,
your agent, tells you the rug’s been pulled out again. Goldstein
wants his nephew to direct, instead. You blow up. Your money’s
gone, you’re really running scared now. You’d rather die than go
backwards and voila! here you are.”

Jonathan pulled at his clammy shirt. “What is
this?—‘This is your life, Jonny Levin’? So, times are tough in
Hollywood, Li. Not everyone is as lucky as you. Can’t we open a
window in here?”

His worst fears had come true. Somehow, Lila
knew he was broke and hungry. He had to keep cool. He didn’t want
her pity.

“I thought after a while you’d catch on.”
Lila put a bottle to her mouth and drank it dry. She let it slip
out of her hands. “Nobody has that kind of bad luck, year after
year.”

Jonathan held his breath. “What are you
saying?”

“I spent a lot of money on those agents.
Corrupt to the bone, every one of the bastards. Glad to help out
the rich and famous Lila Carmichael, because maybe, someday, like
everyone else, she’ll be shopping for a new agent and happen to
remember a favor. Isn’t that just peachy?”

“Evans? You paid him off?” Jonathan tried to
focus.

“Oh, him? No. Just all the others. On that
deal I traded some favors with Goldstein. In fact, I’m letting him
produce my next special, fancy that.”

“You killed my movie deal? You?”

“You give me too much credit, Jonny boy. I
didn’t have to work that hard. You already had a reputation. You
did yourself in with your trademark dictator behavior, Jonny baby.
There isn’t a crew member in Hollywood that you worked with who
doesn’t hate you. You treat them all like garbage and they
remember. They never forget. The producers hate you for never
bringing in a picture on time. The studios laugh at your arrogance.
You’re a joke, Levin. I pulled you out of the first few offers, but
the rest you did yourself. As the saying goes, give a man enough
rope—”

“I’ll kill you . . . you—” He jumped up and
towered in front of her, his hands balled into fists.

Lila stepped back, feigning terror. “Oooh,
how you scare me, Jonny.”

Dick applauded. “Marvelous!”

“And by the way, that piece of garbage you
brought with you? That script you intended to show me tomorrow?
It’s been shopped all over town and no one will touch it. Certainly
not me.” Lila primped her hair and struck a pose. “I have my
reputation to think of.”

Jonathan’s head reeled. He lowered back onto
the bench.

The fortune he paid for the rights to that
script. He flashed through all the movies he’d been offered over
the years. One after another, the same thing. The project was a go,
and then suddenly—poof! Another director called in, or the shooting
was postponed—indefinitely. He thought about “The Magic Hour.” Fox
told him the project was nixed, and six months later it landed back
on their schedule. Jonathan wiped his sweaty palms on his pants.
Lila! Or “Afternoon Affair”—the star walked out the first day of
shooting. The first day.

“You pay Marcia Reynolds off, too?”

“Now you’re getting the picture.”

Jonathan sank his head into his hands.

“Now, now, Jonny. It’s not as hopeless as it
looks. There’s always a light at the end of the tunnel.”

“Yeah, it’s the headlights of an oncoming
train,” Dick said.

Davis snickered.

Della spoke from the shadows. “This was worth
the whole weekend. Getting to hear how the hot shot director never
did make it on his own talent.”

“Shut up, Della. Go slit your wrists again.
You couldn’t even do that right.”

“You scumbag!” Della rushed over to the bench
and pushed Jonathan off. In the struggle, Lila fell and thudded to
the floor. Davis jumped out of the way.

“Go get him, Della.” Davis laughed. “This is
more entertaining than any of the TV crap Jonny ever directed.”

Millie came over and tried to pull Della from
Jonathan. “Stop it, please!”

“Hey, Peter, pull me up,” Lila said, laughing
hard. “I’m floundering like a fish.”

“Pick yourself up. Or should I call for a
derrick?”

Dick choked with laughter.

Millie looked down at Lila. “You’re
disgusting, you know that? How did you turn into such a vengeful,
miserable person? You should be grateful for your success and not
spend your time repaying people for some little wrong done to you
fifteen years ago. You’re sick, you know that?”

Lila laughed again, struggling to pull
herself up. She clutched the bench, got halfway up, and fell
again.

Della and Jonathan still clawed at each
other. Millie waved her hands at them. “Stop it, both of you.” As
Millie reached toward them, Jonathan’s arm got caught in the
necklace and it broke apart, sending diamonds scattering across the
floor. Dick lunged after them, nearly knocking Millie down.

“This is not a free-for-all Ferrol, like that
supermarket game show,” Lila chastised through her laughter.

Dick dropped a handful of gems into Lila’s
lap. “I was just getting them for you.”

“Like hell you were.”

Dick’s face reddened. “Are you accusing me of
trying to steal? I’m not a crook.”

Davis snickered and imitated Richard
Nixon. “I am
not
a
crook.”

“But you are, Ferrol. We already proved
that,” Lila said.

“You
accused
me of it. You
proved
nothing. You’re good with your words and
with throwing your weight around,
literally
, but you’re pitiable. All this money
and look what it got you. You’re pathetic.”

“I am, am I?” Lila finally pulled herself up.
Pieces of the necklace lay scattered about her. She ignored them.
She took in the group stationed around the devastated living room.
“Hey, you know what we all are? Face the truth. Not some great,
goodhearted humanitarians, but the seven deadly sins. Here we all
are, in the flesh.”

Della and Jonathan separated and smoothed
their clothes and hair.

Lila slowly circled the room. “Let’s see if I
remember them all.”

She faced Dick. “Greed, obviously.”

She walked past Della. “Lust.”

When she reached Millie she smiled.
“Gluttony.”

Then Jonathan. “Pride, of course. You know
the Hebrew proverb, Levin—pride cometh before a fall?

“Envy? Yes, Peter, you.

“I, of course, am wrath. And last but not
least—sloth.”

She looked straight at Davis. “What a
lazy boy,
you
are. What a
nice assortment of sinners we have here. My father would have a
field day with the lot of you. Us.”

Davis repositioned the bench and sat back
down, grinning up at Lila. “Well, Li, be that as it may, I’m still
on the bench. I’m sure everyone in the room would vote you off in a
second. So, why not name me the winner and let’s call it a night.
What do you say?”

“Not bloody likely.” Lila thrust her
face into his. “I’ve been waiting a long time for this moment. Why,
I’ve been choreographing this evening for years, my dear Davis. Do
you think you ended up last by accident? I’ve
saved
you for last on purpose.”

Lila was aware of her hands shaking. She had
spoken the truth: fifteen years she had waited, fantasizing this
moment in her head. Rehearsing it more than any part she had ever
performed. And each time, the scenario played the same: she would
expose Davis and he would plead for mercy. Then she would refuse
and watch him suffer.

“Lila has you pegged, Davis,” Della said.
“You’re the expert on laziness. Look at how you got through
school—getting girls to cram for your exams and give you notes.
Smiling at the teachers so they’d let you slide. Even giving up
acting to take over your father’s business. Go for the lazy way to
make money—handed to you on a platter.”

“Now wait a minute, darling. I work damn hard
in that business, sometimes twelve hours a day.”

“Whoa. Let’s rewind back a few frames,
loverboy,” Lila said. “The boy with the golden spoon in his mouth.
Money for cars and other toys. Varsity team, summers in Europe,
college. Leads in all the shows, all the women flocking around him.
Passing the scut work off on everyone else and reaping all the
rewards.”

“Yeah, you sure did that to me,” Dick
said.

“Cynthia, you innocent, come closer. I don’t
want you to miss a beat.”

The group turned toward the hallway where
Cynthia stood in shadow.

“Leave her alone, Li,” Peter said.