The Delphi Room (20 page)

INT. DAVIE’S APARTMENT—LIVING ROOM—NIGHT

Brinkley looks around, startled at where he finds himself. The apartment is in boxes and Velvet sits on one by the window, her eyes at sea in the night. She wears a red velvet mandarin-collared dress, jewel-encrusted high-heeled sandals, a cloche hat and black lace gloves. Her make-up is artful and dramatic: Egyptianesque kohl-lined eyes and red lips. Davie paces, fiddling with his camera.

BRINKLEY

Velvet!

She does not hear or see him, and neither does Davie.

BRINKLEY

Velvet!

He moves to her, touches her shoulder.

BRINKLEY

Velvet, it’s me.

She does not feel him.

VELVET

(looking at Davie)

I don’t feel like having my picture taken.

DAVIE

What are you talking about? You always want me to take your picture.

VELVET

Not now.

DAVIE

This is our window shot. One last time before I go.

She returns her eyes to the night beyond the window.

VELVET

Don’t say that.

(pause)

Do your Groucho Marx.

DAVIE

(as Groucho)

“You’re heading for a breakdown, why don’t you pull yourself to pieces?” “Either this man is dead or my watch has stopped.”

Velvet smiles.

VELVET

More!

DAVIE

(as Groucho)

“Go, and never darken my towels again.”

She laughs.

VELVET

You’re better than the real Groucho Marx.

Brinkley crouches at Velvet’s feet, his hand resting on top of hers. He never takes his eyes off her.

VELVET

There any egg rolls left in your fridge?

DAVIE

Yeah. A couple.

She gets up and moves to the kitchen. Brinkley follows her, still holding her hand.

INT. DAVIE’S APARTMENT—KITCHEN—CONTINUOUS

Velvet, unaware, pulls her hand away from his when she opens the refrigerator, but he continues to stand very close. From the fridge she pulls a squashed carton, opens it and forces an entire egg roll into her mouth with the heel of her hand, then leans against the door, trying to chew. Brinkley picks up a homemade, real-potato Mr. Potato Head, who wears tiny pipe cleaner glasses and a red- and blue-striped tie. He picks up another, who wears a little satin evening dress cut on the bias. He fingers the material.

DAVIE

(O.S.)

Maybe I should go to New York instead. I wanna be in
Kiss of the Spider Woman
.

VELVET

(mouth full)

Its Broadway run closed a zillion years ago. Besides, you can’t sing.

DAVIE

(O.S.)

Fuck off.

Davie sings “Anything For Him” from
Kiss of the Spider Woman
, his voice off-key. Velvet stuffs another egg roll in her mouth, chokes. Brinkley rubs her back.

BRINKLEY

(softly)

Velvet, look at me.

DAVIE

(O.S.)

You finished in there, Miss Piggy?

VELVET

Fuck you.

DAVIE

(O.S.)

Ooh, testy.

Davie sticks his head in the kitchen.

DAVIE

Come on, Velcro Chenille. Picture’s up.

Brinkley stares at Davie, shakes his head.

VELVET

All right, coming.

INT. DAVIE’S APARTMENT—LIVING ROOM—CONTINUOUS

VELVET

Where should I stand?

Brinkley stands next to Velvet.

DAVIE

By the window.

Brinkley follows Velvet to the window, then darts into a corner when Davie points the camera in their direction. Velvet looks out at the sky.

VELVET

Full moon.

DAVIE

No wonder I’ve got cramps.

VELVET

PMS?

DAVIE

Full moons wreak havoc with my hormones, darling. Now, look straight at me. Fabulous hat, darling, fabulous hat.
Trés
Golden Age of Hollywood.

VELVET

Are you going to hang these pictures in your new apartment?

DAVIE

But of course, my dear. If they turn out. Okay, stand still. Don’t smile.

VELVET

Don’t worry. I won’t.

Davie begins snapping photos. Velvet’s doleful stare is steadfast and unblinking.

DAVIE

Relax. You look like a zombie mannequin.

VELVET

Maybe I should come to L.A. with you.

DAVIE

What would you do in L.A.?

VELVET

I don’t know. Handle your costumes.

DAVIE

They have studio people for that. Suck in your stomach. The egg rolls aren’t flattering the dress.

BRINKLEY

(softly, from the corner)

She’s beautiful, just as she is.

VELVET

Maybe we should each get one of those picture frames that record a voice message, so you can have a picture of me and a bit of my voice, and I can have a picture of you and a bit of your voice. But I know we’ll be talking on the phone.

Davie snaps away.

DAVIE

Tilt your chin up and to the left.

VELVET

Stop shooting.

He continues.

VELVET

Stop . . . Stop!

He lowers the camera.

DAVIE

What?

VELVET

Won’t you miss me?

He looks away.

VELVET

Davie. I’ll miss you.

DAVIE

Sure. Sure I’ll miss you, Velcro Chenille. You know I will.

(straining for humour)

I won’t have anyone to visit in the psych ward!

(pause)

I . . . love you. You know that?

VELVET

(softly)

Stay. Please stay. For me.

Davie looks at her. Neither blinks. Moments pass. Velvet pulls off her gloves, finger by finger. She undoes her dress, steps out of it. She is not wearing undergarments. She kicks off her sandals. From his corner, Brinkley watches, drop-jawed. Velvet moves toward Davie, wearing only her cloche hat. A marmoreal mask of almost-fear has settled over his features. When she reaches him, she removes the camera from his hand and sets it on the floor. He opens his mouth to speak, but she covers it with her hand. She touches his cheek, places his hand on her breast. Davie looks like a small, lost boy, terrified into stillness. Velvet backs him into a chair, pulls off his shirt, then his pants. He does not resist, nor does he help. Brinkley remains in the corner. Velvet lowers herself into Davie’s lap. He does not touch her, but sits straight and rigid in the chair, as on a throne: “The Emperor’s No Clothes.” She covers his eyes, places her mouth on his. Brinkley sits on the floor in a tight rocking ball, his face half-buried in his arms. His strange eyes glow like limelight, trained in unbroken beams on the couple in the chair. Velvet and Davie kiss for a moment, awkwardly; he is still not touching her. She bites down hard on his lip; he cries out and shoves her, but she hangs on and they fall to the floor. A heap of tangled, wrestling limbs, mouths that snarl and bite. Both Velvet and Davie’s lips are bloody. She pierces his ear with her teeth, he digs his teeth and nails into her shoulders. A victor with a mount: Velvet is on top, Davie is inside her. The Shadowman appears as Zorro. He points his rapier at Velvet.

SHADOWMAN

Whore! Whore! Whore! Whore! Whore!

Velvet shrieks. Brinkley gapes, shock and horror waging stiff competition for control of his face. In an instant, the Shadowman morphs, becoming the white-faced devil with long black nails. He moves at an oozing pace toward Velvet, his feet turned balletically outward, sleek as a wet panther.

SHADOWMAN

(hissing)

S-s-slut. S-s-slut. S-s-slut. S-s-slut. S-s-slut.

Velvet screams, rolls off Davie and crawls to the wall, curls up, clings to it.

DAVIE

What the—

SHADOWMAN

(advancing)

You fucking whore! Stand up, little girl. I have something to show you.

Velvet squeezes shut her eyes, plugs her ears, screams and screams. Brinkley trembles. Davie is shaking Velvet. She opens her eyes, tries to fight him off.

DAVIE

Velvet! Velvet! Velvet!

Velvet shrieks, punches him in the nose. Davie reels backward, holding his face. Velvet continues to scream.

SHADOWMAN

You little slut! You dirty little slut!

He clicks his pointed fingernails. Davie pulls on his clothes and runs from the apartment, holding his nose. Velvet covers her head with her hands. The Shadowman grabs her chin. Brinkley takes a deep breath.

SHADOWMAN

Do you want to die, little girl? Do you want to die? Would that be fun? Shall I kill you? Ooh, now that would be fun! How shall I do it? Shall I skin you alive?

VELVET

P-p-please l-leave m-m-me a-l-l-one. P-pleas-se . . .

Brinkley tears from his corner like a freed bat, grabs the Shadowman’s arm and jerks him away from Velvet. The Shadowman turns in surprise.

SHADOWMAN

Who the fuck are you?

BRINKLEY

I’m her friend.

SHADOWMAN

She doesn’t have any friends.

(staring at Brinkley’s streaky, falling-out hair and strange, glowing eyes)

What kind of freak are you?

Velvet still crouches against the wall, covering her head. She cries softly. The Shadowman backs Brinkley toward the opposite wall.

SHADOWMAN

Shall I kill you, too?

He clicks his fingernails. Brinkley shakes. The Shadowman grabs him by the collar.

BRINKLEY

Y-you g-get out-t of h-h-here. L-leave us a-a-l-lone.

SHADOWMAN

What was that? Couldn’t quite understand you, my boy. Do you speak English?

Brinkley winds up and punches the Shadowman in the jaw. The white-faced devil hits the floor, lies there in a theatrical heap. Brinkley is stunned, and looks from his fist to the Shadowman and back again. The devil staggers to his feet, holding his jaw. He shoots Brinkley a hurt, almost pouty look as he moves away.

BRINKLEY

You leave her alone! Don’t ever come back!

SHADOWMAN

Oh trust me, my boy, I will be back. I will be back.

The Shadowman disappears. Brinkley looks across the room at Velvet. She remains curled against the wall, hands covering her head, eyes squeezed shut. He goes to her, drops to the floor, puts his arms around her naked body.

BRINKLEY

(softly)

He’s gone now. He can’t hurt you. Open your eyes.

Velvet opens her eyes, casts furtive, terrified glances around the empty room. She lowers her hands. Brinkley wipes the tears from her face.

BRINKLEY

Please look at me. Please see me.

She stares in confusion at the empty room. He places a hand on her heart.

She looks right at him, but does not see him. He touches her face.

BRINKLEY

Velvet, I want you to know that I—