Actually, of course, she was reading the schedule for the next twenty-one days. Some of the names were new to her, of course-- actors and actresses who were just reaching a level where they could afford to pay to be in an Arran Handully loop. And there were other names that she was quite familiar with, characters her fans would be expecting: Doret, her close friend and roommate seven loops ago, who still came back now and then to catch up on the news; Twern, that seven-year-old boy, now nearly fifteen, one of the youngest people ever to go on somec; old lovers and old friends, and a few leftovers from feuds on ancient loops. Which ones would be catty, and which ones would want to make up? Ah, well, she told herself. Plenty of chances to find that out.
A name far down the list leaped out at her. Hamilton Ferlock! Involuntarily she smiled-- caught herself in the sincere reaction and then decided that it would do no harm-- the Arran Hndully character might smile in just that way over a particular victory in a game. Hamilton Ferlock. Probably the only male actor on Capitol who could be considered to be in her class. They had started out at the same time, too, and he had been her lover in her first five loops, back when she only had a few months on somec between wakings. And now he was going to be in this loop!
She thought a silent blessing for her manager. Triuff had actually done something thoughtful.
And then it was time to dress and leave the Sleeproom and walk the long corridors to her flat.
She noticed as she walked along that the corridor had been redecorated, to give the illusion that somehow even the halls she walked along had class. She touched one of the new panels. Plastic.
She refrained from grimacing. Oh well, the audience will never know it isn't really wood, and it keeps the overhead down. She opened the door of her flat, and Doret screamed in delight and ran to embrace her. Arran decided that this time she should act a little put out at Doret for some imagined slight. Doret looked a little surprised, backed away, and then, like the consummate actress that she was (Arran didn't mind admitting the talents of her co-workers), she took Arran's quite subtle cue and turned it into a beautiful scene, Doret weeping out a confession that she had stolen a lover away from Arran several wakings ago, and Arran at first seeming to punish her, then forgiving. They ended the scene tearfully in each other's arms, and then paused a moment. Dammit, Arran thought, Triuff is at it again. Nobody entered to break the scene. They had to go on after the climax, which meant building it to an even bigger climax within the next three hours Arran was exhausted when Doret finally left. They had had a wrestling match, in which they had ripped each other's clothes to shreds, and finally Doret had pulled a knife on Arran. It was not until Arran managed to get the weapon away from her that Doret finally left, and Arran had a chance to relax for a moment.
Twenty-one days without a break, Arran reminded herself. And Triuff forcing me into exhaustion the first day. I'll fire the bitch, she vowed.
It was the twentieth day, and Arran was sick of the whole thing. Five parties, and a couple of orgies, and sleeping with someone new every night can pall rather quickly, and she had run the gamut of emotion several times. Each time she wept, she tried to put a different edge on it-- tried to improvise new things to say to lovers, to shout in an argument, to use to insult a condescending visitor.
Most of her guests this time had been talented, and Arran certainly hadn't had to pull the full weight all by herself. But it was grueling, all the same.
And the buzzer sounded, and Arran had to get up to answer the door.
Hamilton Ferlock stood there, looking a little unsure of himself. Five centuries of acting, Arran thought to herself, and he still hasn't lost that ingenuous, boyish manner. She cried out his name (seductively, in character) and threw her arms around him.
"Ham," she said, "oh, Ham, you wouldn't believe this waking! I'm so tired."
"Arran," he said softly, and Arran noticed with surprise that he was starting out sounding as if he loved her. Oh no, she thought. Didn't we part with a quarrel the last time? No, no, that was Ryden. Ham left because, because-- oh, yes. Because he was feeling unfulfilled.
"Well, did you find what you were looking for?"
Ham raised an eyebrow. "Looking for?"
"You said you had to do something important with your life. That living with me was turning you into a lovesick shadow." Good phrase, Arran congratulated herself.
"Lovesick shadow. Well, you see, that was true enough," Ham answered. "But I've discovered that shadows only exist where there is light. You're my light, Arran, and only when I'm near you do I really exist."
No wonder he's so highly paid, Arran thought. The line was a bit gooey, but it's men like him who keep the women watching.
"Am I a light?" Arran said. "To think you've come back to me after so long."
"Like a moth to a flame."
And then, as was obligatory in all happy reunion scenes (have I already done a happy reunion in this waking? No) they slowly undressed each other and made love slowly, the kind of copulation that was not so much arousing as emotional, the kind that made both men and women cry and hold each other's hands in the theatre. He was so gentle this time, and the lovemaking was so right, that Arran felt hard-pressed to stay in character. I'm tired, she told herself. How can he carry it off so perfectly? He's a better actor than I remembered.
Afterward, he held her in his arms as they talked softly-- he was always willing to talk afterward, unlike most actors, who thought they had to become surly after sex in order to maintain their macho image with the fans.
"That was beautiful," Arran said, and she noticed with alarm that she wasn't acting. Watch yourself, woman. Don't screw up the loop after you've already invested twenty damned days.
"Was it?" Ham asked.
"Didn't you notice?"
He smiled. "After all these years, Arran, and I was right. There's no woman in the world worth loving with you around."
She giggled softly and ducked her head away from him in embarrassment. It was in character, and therefore seductive.
"Then why haven't you come back before?" Arran asked.
And Hamilton rolled over and lay on his back. Because he was silent for a few moments, she rubbed her ringers up and down his stomach. He smiled. "I stayed away, Arran, because I loved you too much."
"Love is never a reason to stay away," she said. Ha. Let the fans quote that piece of crap for a couple of years.
"It is," Ham said, "when it's real."
"Even more reason to stay with me!" Arran put on a pout. "You left me, and now you pretend you loved me."
And suddenly Hamilton swung over and sat on the edge of the bed.
"What's wrong?" she asked.
"Damn!" he said. "Forget the stupid act, will you?"
"Act?" she asked.
"The damn Arran Handully character you're wearing for fun and profit! I know you, Arran, and I'm telling you-- I'm telling you, not some actor, me-- I'm telling you that I love you! Not for the audiences! Not for the loop! For you-- I love you!"
And with a sickening feeling in the pit of her stomach Arran realized that, somehow, that stinking Triuff had gotten Ham to be a dirty trick after all. It was the one unspoken rule in the business-- you never, never, never mention the fact that you're acting. For any reason. And now, the ultimate challenge-- admitting to the audience that you're an actress and making them still believe you.