Renny folded his hands and looked down at them in mock prayer. At least, I assumed it was mock. “Lord,” he called out, “deliver me from the dummies. Please, Lord-help me out here.” He looked at me and said, as if to a child, “A special, Dexter. A one-hour comedy special. Starring me, because that’s what I do. Comedy. Because I am a comedian, and that is somebody who does comedy. And the network is shooting my special here, this Saturday night, and using it to promote Bobby’s show, okay?”
“So wait, so what,” Robert said, sounding jittery but a little hopeful. “So they use your special to promo the show-”
“Thank you, Jesus,” Renny said devoutly.
“So the show isn’t canceled?”
“We are on, brothers and sisters, and Renny Boudreaux is even more on ’cuz he is on first and he is gonna make you laugh until you hurt-’cuz my shit has been cooking awhile and I am going to kill.”
And as he said “kill” he looked at me-and there it was again, that sudden flutter of dark flame-and then Robert interrupted, and it was gone, and once more I was left wondering whether I had seen anything at all.
“Yeah, but …” Robert said. He frowned, and then said, “Oh, well, hey, I guess-I mean, that’s great, you know. I mean, as long as they’re not- Hey, one hand washes the other anyhow, right?”
“Riiiiight,” Renny said. He looked at me.
Since I was new to showbiz, I wasn’t sure what was expected of me here, so I just said, “Congratulations,” and that seemed to go down all right. Renny nodded at me, frowned, and then looked back at Robert.
“Oh,” Renny said. “Almost forgot. Wardrobe wants to see you. They’re at the hotel, suite twenty-four seventeen.”
“Wardrobe,” Robert said, sounding slightly alarmed again for some reason of his own.
Renny looked at him with pity on his face. “Yeah, you know, wardrobe. There’s that mean woman and her two gay friends, and they dress you up for this shit,” he said. “You remember wardrobe, don’t you, Robert?”
Robert looked at him for half a second and then gave his peculiar artificial laugh again. “Ha! Ha! Yeah, okay, well, then, I’m outta here.” He turned and aired out a few bright teeth in my direction. “See ya later, Dexter,” he said. He made a clicking sound, accompanied by that annoying my-finger-is-a-pistol-and-you-are-dead gesture again, and he sauntered away.
Renny watched him go and then shook his head and said, “Can’t decide if that man is dumb as shit or just really weird.” And then he turned and frowned at me. “You’re easy. You just weird.”
“Thank you,” I said.
“But that’s okay; I can use weird,” he said. And then he smiled again, and the kind of smile it seemed to be sent a tiny shiver of alarm through the coiled tentacles of the dozing Passenger. “You like to come see my show, Dexter?”
I admit he had taken me by surprise; I had no ready response other than a blink and a very feeble-sounding, “Oh. Well, I mean, it’s this Saturday?”
“Good, you been listening. I knew you weren’t a dummy,” he said.
In truth, I did not want to see his show, not this Saturday nor any other. But, of course, if Jackie was going to be there, I would have to go along, too. So I nodded and said, “Well, um, sure, that would be very nice.”
“Oh, it won’t be nice,” he said. “But I just might get you to laugh some. And your wife. You got a wife, right, Dexter? ’Cuz I know you want everybody to think you’re normal and shit.”
Once again I felt an uncomfortable shifting of coils deep inside; Renny’s dig at me was much too close to home to be entirely innocent, but it was still nothing definite enough for me to be sure. My only real choice was to keep playing Weird Normal-for now.
“Ah, yes, I do,” I said. “I do have a wife.”
“Uh-huh, good,” Renny said. “Mr. Eissen wants the technical advisers there, on camera.” He winked at me. “That’s you. And that really tough lady.”
“Deborah,” I said. “Sergeant Morgan.”
“Uh-huh. Mr. Eissen says it’s like support our troops, show the cops out there laughing. And it gives the show Cop Cred, and it even shows everybody I can get along with cops when I want to. Which, to be honest …” He raised an eyebrow at me, as if I was supposed to say something about that, but I had no idea what, so I just nodded.
Renny shrugged. “Your boss gonna be there, too,” he said. “He wants to make sure you show up, with your wife.”
“Well, then,” I said. “I guess we’ll be there.”
“I’ll put you on the list for two.”
“Thank you,” I said. And because that seemed like a slightly inadequate response for being railroaded into accepting two free tickets to a show, I added, “Would you like some coffee?”
“Yes, I would,” Renny said. He straightened up and pushed off the bench. “And that is why I am going to go find a Starbucks and not drink that poison shit you all make here.” He turned and headed for the door. “See you later, man.”
And suddenly, there I was, all alone again.
SIXTEEN
I stood for a moment in my abruptly uncluttered work space and looked around fondly. It seemed like a long time since I’d been here without Robert leaning over my shoulder and solemnly mocking all my unconscious gestures, and to see the place without him and Renny in it was almost like coming home from a long and exhausting trip. I spent a few minutes tidying up, putting things where they belonged instead of where Robert had moved them because they looked better there. And then I just stood for a moment, looking around with quiet satisfaction, and wondering what to do with the rest of my morning. I had been assigned two important jobs: instructing Robert and guarding Jackie. But at the moment I couldn’t do either one; Robert and Renny were gone, and Jackie was off somewhere with Deborah.
For a moment I was at a loss; what should I do when there was nothing to do? I cast my brain back and forth, and came up with nothing more than a reminder that I was supposed to go to a meeting with Cody’s teacher at three o’clock. It was ten twenty-two right now, which left a rather large gap in the day’s activities, and in the meantime, I felt like I should do something positive, powerful, dynamic, and smart, and there was nothing of the kind immediately obvious. But Dexter is renowned for his resourcefulness, and it took no more than a few moments of deep thought for me to hit on exactly the right course of action. I strode manfully into my own little office space, and with a vibrant and masculine vitality, I sat in my chair, leaned back, and took a deep breath: in through the nose-
And very quickly out through the mouth, and with some irritation. Because in front of me on my desk, where there should have been nothing but a neat blotter, Robert had left his newspaper. I don’t like clutter, especially someone else’s, dumped into my space. I leaned forward to pick it up-and saw that, under it, lying on the blotter when it should have been standing neatly at the back of my desk, was a picture of Dexter and Family.
Last Christmas, Rita had insisted that we all visit a real photographer and pose for a real Family Portrait. It had been quite an ordeal getting everybody to dress up, comb their hair, scrub their faces, and-hardest of all-make a convincingly pleasant face for the camera. But we had done it, and here was the result: Rita and Astor on the left with Cody sitting in front of them, Dexter holding Lily Anne-and if Cody was not actually smiling, at least you couldn’t tell that he was thinking about sticking a knife into the photographer.
I had framed the picture and put it on my desk, because that’s what Humans did. And Robert had been staring at it furtively-and felt guilty enough that he’d hidden it under a newspaper. Of all the truly annoying things he’d done, this one rankled even more, and I could not say why. But I refused to let it ruin my opportunity for unspecified pondering; I polished the picture’s silver frame, rubbed imaginary thumbprints off the glass, and set it back where it belonged, at the back of my desk. And then I leaned back, took a deep breath, pushed Robert out of my mind, and pondered.