Steinberg's face sobered. "Hmm. Well, he has been acting strangely. Tommy's death hit him hard. Hell, it did all of us. I'm sure he'll get over it."
"But… the costume?"
Steinberg heaved a sigh and sat on the edge of the desk. "Donna, Dennis has been the Emperor for many years. Even though he wasn't sorry to stop playing the role, it was a major part of his life. It's rather odd that he should put on the costume once again and roam the corridors above where he'd think no one would see him, but it's not inexplicable. It's like a little boy playing dress-up, for actors can be, as you well know, little more than children at times. When you discovered him, he was embarrassed, so he fell into character. And that," he finished, "is my pseudo-Freudian analysis. I shouldn't worry about it if I were you. Dennis will come around."
~* ~
"John's wrong. I didn't come across him," Donna said to Sid. "He came into the suite. Sid, he knew I was there. If he didn't want me to see him, he could have just walked away down the hall."
Sid rolled over onto his back, rested a hand on Donna's bare thigh, and looked up at the bedroom ceiling. "It doesn't sound like Dennis. He never propositioned you before, did he?"
"Never. He's always been a gentleman around me. And he knows about us…" She trailed off, turning toward him and throwing an arm over his chest.
"Mmm-hmm. He's known for years about our…” He kissed her cheek. “… relationship. I can't believe he'd try to make a move on you."
"I can't either, but he did. I didn't imagine it."
"I know. You're a very rock-solid lady." He chuckled. "That's why I keep returning to your open arms."
Sid Harper and Donna Franklin had been making love to each other for ten years. It was a relationship of convenience in which expediency of passion was the key. They had had few relationships with other people during the time they had been together, and had never spoken of the four-letter word, love.
"I just don't know," Sid mused, "what's gotten into Dennis lately. He's not his old self, that's for sure."
"There was something else," Donna said, and he felt her stiffen beside him. "I just remembered. He didn't blink. I don't think I saw him blink one time, even when I shone my flashlight right in his face
…”
Scene 9
The next morning, Ann Deems came to the Venetian Theatre to begin her new job. Donna Franklin gave her a tour of the building, and then showed her to a small office on the second floor just down the hall from Donna and Steinberg's two-office suite. There, she began to fill out the first of the forms that would become such a large part of her life. Dennis had not been there to greet her, nor had she expected that he would, and she was relieved not to have to see him again so soon after their last meeting.
Halfway through lunch, which Ann ate at her desk, Donna appeared at the door. "You have a visitor," she said. "Your daughter?"
Donna stepped back, allowed Terri to enter the tiny room, and left them alone. "Sit down," Ann said. "Here, let me move these papers."
"You look like you've settled in," said Terri, who remained standing. Ann noticed that she had her portfolio with her. "Are you feeling particularly fulfilled yet?"
"Terri dear, when you are all grown up and married, I hope you have a daughter exactly like mine."
"Thank you, mother. Now. Who do I have to… bribe to meet Marvella Johnson?"
Ann thought for a moment. She had made whatever loose arrangements she had with Dennis, and had no idea if he had even mentioned the situation to Marvella Johnson. Then she looked at the phone on her desk, at the initials next to the push buttons, in particular the one marked DKH, and made up her mind. "Hold on," she said, picked up the receiver, and pushed the button. Sid answered, but in less than a minute she was talking to Dennis, who sounded happy to hear her voice, and told her to bring Terri to the costume shop, where he would introduce them to Marvella.
Terri followed Ann silently down the hall and up the stairs. The place was such a labyrinth that Ann felt secretly proud that she remembered her way there. When they entered, Dennis was standing next to Marvella, his beaming face in harsh contrast to her wrinkled and frowning countenance. After the introductions, during which Marvella did not speak one intelligible word, Dennis walked Ann back to her office, leaving Terri and the costumer alone.
"I don't think they hit it off," said Ann, as she sat behind her desk.
Dennis chuckled as he leaned against the door frame. "Marvella doesn't hit it off with anyone. The costume shop is her domain, and she sees everyone else as interlopers – at least until they've worked with her for a while and she realizes they don't have smeared chocolate on their fingers or sabotage on their minds. Don't worry, they'll get along. And if Terri's good, she'll get the job."
"I hope so. I'd like to see her happy again."
"Again? How long has it been?"
"Oh, since she was six."
They laughed, and Ann realized she felt comfortable with Dennis. Maybe, she thought, this could work out after all. They seemed to be friends now, and there was no reason they could not remain so, no reason they had to become anything more.
~* ~
Marvella Johnson's frown was a forced one. It took a great deal of effort to make her facial muscles press the sides of her mouth down so far, but, she thought, it was worth it. If she could get them crying, or at least get that lower lip trembling, then she knew they were busted, and would go away thanking sweet Jesus that they weren't going to work with the tyrannous Marvella Johnson.
But this girl – this Terri – was one tough cookie. She gave Marvella back stare for stare, and slapped her designs on the work table as though daring her prospective boss to criticize them. Marvella liked that. It meant the girl wasn't prepared to put up with bullshit. Marvella hadn't put up with bullshit for years. "This all you brought?" she asked Terri, her steely black fingers flipping through the contents of the portfolio like a harrow through weeds.
"You want more, I can get more. But I don't have it here." She sounded, Marvella thought, just pissed off. There wasn't the trace of a sob.
"No, I guess this's enough to show me what you can do. The designs are fine, but what about the construction? You good with a machine?"
"I've built everything you see there." The girl took a colored envelope from her purse. "Here are the photos." She tossed the envelope so that it spun twice before it hit the table.
Marvella snorted, picked it up, and looked through the pictures inside. They were damn good, she thought, with the disappointment she always felt when she found someone she knew was good enough to work for her. It had to be done. She needed someone even now, for the bulk of the work was creeping up on her. Alone, she would be in no condition to costume the show due to open in the spring. Nope, no way around it. She could hire some of the people she'd worked with before, and when the time came, probably would. But she needed someone now, someone who would work like hell and take no shit except from her, and was damn good at what she did. Who knows, she thought, maybe I might even learn to like the little bitch.
Marvella tossed the pictures on the table and looked up at the girl. "You start next Monday. Work out the salary with Miss Franklin."
~* ~
Sweet Jesus! Terri thought, and felt the smile burst across her face before she could contain it. She thought about pushing it back, then decided what the hell, Marvella Johnson had already seen it. The only thing more uncool than losing your cool was doing it and then pretending you hadn't. "Thanks, Ms. Johnson."
"Don't load any of that 'Miz' crap on me. That's what my mama used to call the ladies she did floors for. Marvella'll be fine. We're on an equal footing here, except for what I say goes." She nodded her head several times as she looked at Terri appraisingly. "Yeah, you're gonna be fine. But get outta here now, I got work to do."