Maybe the Moon (21 page)

I
’
M SO MAD
I
COULD SPIT
. O
NE WEEK AND TWO DAYS AFTER THE
lunch at Icon, Leonard finally called. I don’t much feel like writing about our conversation, but I’ll do it, anyway—in the interest of thoroughness, if nothing else.

“Doll.”

“Leonard.”

“How are you doing?”

“Swell.”

“Terrific. Look, this thing is on.”

“What thing?”

“The thing I told you about. You free a week from Saturday?”

A low-grade dread began to seep through my system like pale-green poison. Blockbuster musicals are not generally described as being “a week from Saturday.” I sat down on the floor, took a deep, cleansing breath, and collected myself. “Just tell me what it is, Leonard, and I’ll tell you if I can do it.”

He didn’t answer right away, obviously conscious of my fragile state. “OK…how does this grab you? Meryl Streep, Whoopi Goldberg, Jay Leno, Candy Bergen, Sly Stallone, Elizabeth Taylor,
Michael Jackson, Annette Bening, Warren Beatty, Madonna…Stop me when you’ve had enough.”

“No, go ahead. Keep jerking my chain.”

“I’m serious.”

“Right.”

“It’s a tribute, doll.”

“To what? My gullibility?”

He laughed. “To Philip Blenheim.”

I said nothing.

“You still there?”

“I’m listening, Leonard. Keep talking.”

“Well…the UFL is giving Philip their Lifetime Achievement Award, so they’re having a big blowout at the Beverly Hilton. It’s like the night of nights. HBO is televising it,
ET
’s gonna cover it. I haven’t seen a roster like this in years. Bette’s gonna sing, Patrick Swayze’s gonna dance. Barbra might even sing, for Christ’s sake….”

What can I tell you? I tried to stay cool, but my face had already gone up like a baked Alaska, flaming in early celebration. “And they want
me
?”

“Who else?”

“To perform?”

“No, to bus tables. Of course to perform.”

I laughed extravagantly, because Leonard suddenly struck me as the wittiest man in the world. “You’re really serious?”

“I’m really serious.”

“Jesus.”

“No need to thank me,” he said. “Your ecstasy is my reward.”

I hooted. “My ten percent is your reward.”

“Well, that too.”

“It does pay, doesn’t it?”

“Does it pay? the woman asks. Does it pay?”

Suddenly the pieces fell into place. I flashed on Philip at the Icon commissary, that strange new respect in his eyes, telling me how exquisitely I sang, how he’d recognized my talent even in the old days. Then I remembered Leonard’s inquiry about my weight
when he’d first teased me with that “something kind of big.” Then, with no effort at all, I saw myself onstage at the Beverly Hilton before an all-star black-tie audience, singing “If,” or maybe something entirely new, while Meryl and Madonna listened from the wings in rapt amazement and jaded producers scrambled for the phone.

“So,” said Leonard, “they’re giving the suit a thorough over-haul.”

“Come again?”

“Mr. Woods. They’re disinfecting him. Spraying him with poly-whatsit.” He laughed gleefully. “He’s been on the shelf for ages, but he’ll be nice and fresh for you.”

In a matter of seconds I was sick with despair, suffocating on the truth. Words just wouldn’t come.

“Cady?”

“Is that all this was about? Somebody to wear that fucking suit?”

“Not just somebody.”

“Well, you can find yourself another dwarf.”

“Doll, doll. You act like it’s nothing. This is historic. It’s a moment for the ages. Nobody’s even seen Mr. Woods since the movie was made.”

“Horseshit. I saw hundreds of them on that goddamn ride.”

“What ride?”

“At Icon.”

“Those are robots.”

“Then hire yourself a robot. I’m an actress.”

“They
need
an actress, Cady. That’s why they’re asking you. You
are
Mr. Woods.”

“Yeah, yeah.”

“You know what he requires, Cady. How to give him life and personality. You’re the only one who does.”

“What about Philip’s sacred rule?”

“What rule?”

“About the elf never showing up in public.”

Leonard heaved a condescending sigh. “That’s what I’m trying to tell you. This’ll be the first time. Nobody’ll be expecting it, so they’ll go nuts when it happens. It’ll bring down the house. You’ll be the one who gives him the award.”

“Mr. Woods, you mean, not me.”

“But don’t you see? It’ll make every front page in the world.”

As angry and disappointed as I was, this pronouncement stopped me short for a moment, causing me to consider another possibility, one that just might work. “OK, what about this?”

“Yeah?” Leonard sounded wary.

“What if I did that, the whole elf thing, and then came out later as myself and…sang, maybe?”

No reply.

“That would
really
surprise them. Talk about the crowd going crazy.”

“I really don’t think—” He cut himself off abruptly.

“What?”

“Don’t take this wrong, Cady, because it’s not about you.”

Of course not, I thought, it never is.

“I just don’t think that’s the way Philip sees the evening.”

“Oh.” All sorts of stuff had begun to register. “So Philip is actually organizing this?”

“Well, he’s a consultant. He has to be. They want to get it right.”

“Of course.”

“He really wants you to be there, Cady. He told me so himself.”

“Is that why he kissed my ass at Icon last week?”

Leonard feigned ignorance. “You lost me there, doll.”

“I don’t think so. You set this up through Callum, didn’t you? You knew Philip and I weren’t speaking, so you arranged for us to meet and make up. Just so I’d put on that fucking body condom one more time and give a trophy to the prick who—”

“Cady, look—”

“Callum’s part of this tribute, isn’t he? He must be.”

“Well, sure, but—”

“So you boys all chipped in and sent me a limo, and…Oh God, it’s so clear now. Why didn’t I see it? I’m such a jerkwad.”

Leonard offered me a hurt silence. Then: “I can’t believe you’re being so hostile.”

What
I
couldn’t believe was that Leonard hadn’t blown a fuse and hung up. He’d taken more abuse from me in ten minutes than I’d dared to dole out in ten years. His moderation could mean only one thing: he needed me too badly to risk alienating me. Philip had obviously put the screws to him. “What’s the matter?” I said. “You fresh out of wee people?”

No answer.

“That’s it, isn’t it?” I laughed bitterly. “You can’t find anybody to fit that damn suit.”

“That’s not true, and you know it.”

“Try Arnie Green, why don’t you? He’s got some terrific midgets. You might have to chop them off at the ankles or something, but what the hell. Or maybe a child. That would work. Homeless, preferably, so you don’t have to answer to SAG or anything.”

“This is so unlike you.”

“No, Leonard, this is exactly like me. This is me. This is what you get when I don’t have to be careful anymore, when I don’t give a fuck what you think.”

And
that’s
when he hung up on me.

At least an hour has passed, so I’m calmer now, if a little numb. Leonard called back a while ago, as I suspected he might, given the apparent urgency of his mission. When I answered, he didn’t even bother to announce himself, just started talking, assuming the tone of a long-suffering parent.

“How long have we known each other?”

I groaned.

“Have I ever steered you wrong? Have I ever betrayed you? Have I ever acted against your best interests?”

“Save it, Leonard. I’m not doing it.”

“Just tell me why not.”

“Because it hurts too much.”

“You mean the suit? I’m sure they could—”

“Not the suit. The whole twisted thing. I’m sick and tired of it, that’s all. I have to be myself sooner or later. I can’t keep doing this.”

“Doing what?”

“Being invisible.”

After a pause he said: “It’s had its rewards, hasn’t it?”

“Not enough.”

“Think of the people you’ve met. Think of the life you’ve led.”

“I
am
thinking of the life I’ve led.”

“C’mon. It hasn’t been that bad.”

“Oh, really?
You
try it sometime.”

“Yeah, well…” He laughed uneasily. “You’ve got a point, I guess.”

Even at this late juncture, that dazzling lineup of stars kept coming back to taunt me. It took all my strength to stifle the whiny child within who kept telling me to stuff my principles, for God’s sake, Meryl and Bette and Barbra would be there, and I would probably get to meet them. But I couldn’t forget my years of exile from Philip’s life or the silence he’d imposed on me from the beginning. It was better to take a stand, I felt, to make an exit with my dignity intact. I needed to know that I could do that, I guess, that I could take control of my own destiny no matter how much empty glitz they threw my way.

“I’m wasting your time,” I said.

“Look…”

“I’m a singer and an actress, Leonard. If you can help me with that, fine. If not…”

“You won’t do this for Philip?”

“Why should I? He won’t do shit for me.”

“That’s not true.”

“Has he cast his new musical yet?”

You better believe
that
stopped him cold. “Well, uh…I don’t know much about it, really.”

“I bet you don’t.”

“It’s just a script. If there’s anything right for you, I’m sure he’d…”

“Oh, blah, blah, blah…”

“Why are you acting like this?”

“Because you’re a liar, Leonard.”

“I’ve never lied to you.”

“Bullshit.”

“When? When have I ever lied?”

“When I asked you if Callum was in town. You told me he was back East in college.”

“Well, he was—then.”

“He was not, Leonard. He was blowing a friend of mine in Griffith Park.”

There was an audible intake of air. Most satisfying.

“Not in the park, really. Back at the house. They met at the park.”

“What is your point, please?”

“That he was here in town and you knew it. And that you lied to me. Why did you lie to me?”

“I barely remember this.”

“Then why do you think you
might
have lied to me? Because you knew I’d try to reach Callum?”

“Maybe…I guess.”

“Maybe?”

“The kid needed his space, Cady.”

“And I was just gonna pester him, beg him for jobs, make your life complicated.”

He considered that for a moment, then said: “Something like that.”

“So you lied.”

“Yes…OK, yes.”

We shared a moment of silence over that one.

Finally, Leonard said meekly: “You can be pretty…persistent, you know.”

I grunted.

“I admire that, though. I admire it a lot. Don’t get me wrong.”

I was beginning to think I could make Leonard say or do anything, confess to the sins of the whole sorry town. I felt a little giddy with the power of it. Nothing makes you stronger, I guess, than saying no and meaning it to someone who really needs you for something. Given time, I might have found other ways to torment him, but I suddenly felt bone tired, drained of energy. I’m ready to be done with this for good, I realize. All I want now is to lie in Neil’s arms and have a good cry.

“I have to go,” I said.

“I want you to think about it,” Leonard said. “I don’t want you to turn it down yet.”

“I just did, Leonard.”

“I’ll call you back in a day or so. You’ve had a lot thrown at you at once. I won’t talk to Philip about it yet. He can find somebody else, I’m sure, but that’s not what I want. I want you to be there, playing the role you created. It’s just good karma all the way around.”

Good karma
? All else had failed, so Leonard was stooping to metaphysics. I might have felt sorry for him, if the approach hadn’t been so patently out of character. Everything Leonard knows about karma he learned from an afternoon of shopping at The Bodhi Tree with Shirley MacLaine.

Two hours later.

I just got a call from Callum—the first in ages. I let the machine take it:

“Hi, Cady, this is Callum. Leonard told me about—uh—your reaction to Philip’s tribute. I just want you to know that I’d really like for you to be there. I’m sure Philip would too. He really does have great admiration for you. It looks like an incredible evening too, and it wouldn’t be the same without you. I hope I didn’t do anything to upset you. Leonard seems to think I might have. I’m still at the Chateau. Call me, OK?”

Yeah, right.

After supper.

I tried to reach Neil several times this evening, but there was no answer. Renee, meanwhile, thinks I’ve gone off my gourd. When I told her about turning down the tribute, she stared at me in open-mouthed horror. “Gah, Cady…”

“Save your breath. I’ve heard all the arguments.”

“But if he said he was sorry…”

“Who?”

“Blenheim.”

“He hasn’t said shit. He let Leonard and Callum do his dirty work.”

“He must not be mad at you, though. He wouldn’t have asked you.”

“I don’t give a shit whether he’s mad or not.
I’m
mad.”

Seeing the truth of this, Renee let the subject drop, but her expression has since grown more and more petulant. She just sits there on the sofa, stuffing her face with Mini Oreos and sulking into her magazine. The message is clear enough: I’ve been a fool and a hothead, guilty of excessive pride. What’s more, I’m being punished by her silence because I willfully deprived her of a glamorous evening.

We have a weird relationship, Renee and I. Sometimes I’m her parent and sometimes she’s mine. I’m not sure which mode we’re in at the moment, but I resent her attitude. If she wants a little
glamour in her boring existence, she can find it on her own for once. I’ve had it up to here. All I want is a life I can live on my own terms.

Neil just called, so I told him what happened. He offered to come by and pick me up, take me back to his place.