Popcorn

Chapter ThirtyOne

The arrangements were made, and Wayne made his way down through the house once more, to await the camera crew.

Meanwhile Bruce paced about the lounge, desperately trying to think of a way out.

Scout was proud of how deeply Wayne ’s plan had affected him. ‘Ain’t Wayne smart, huh?’ she said.

‘I can’t do it,’ Bruce replied. ‘I just can’t.’

Velvet was with Brooke, attempting to redress her wound with torn cushion covers. She stared up at her father. ‘Daddy, you have to. This woman needs a doctor and you heard what he said he’d do to me. He said he’d shoot me in the mouth.’

Velvet was fighting back her tears but none the less was showing a strength of character of which her parents had been completely unaware. Years of wandering round shopping malls with too much money to spend had never brought out the best in her.

‘Yes, all right, Velvet. I’m sorry. I won’t let that happen. But I have to think. This is a very terrible thing for me. For us. Wayne ’s right, you see. Once I do this thing, my life as I know it will be over, no matter what I do, no matter what I achieve, this is all I will be remembered for.’

Brooke, whose life looked as if it was very nearly over already, tried to protest at this. Although it came out only as a gurgle, her meaning was clear: she felt her problem should be number one on the group agenda.

Bruce simply could not bring himself to agree. ‘Brooke, I know you’re seriously wounded, and, believe me, when I can do something about it I will, but right now I am powerless to help. And I have a problem too. Ten minutes from now the entire world is going to hear me confess to mass murder.’

‘But you’re being coerced. You can deny it afterwards,’ said Farrah. It had begun to dawn on her just how seriously Bruce’s defeat was going to affect her own fortunes.

‘Oh sure, Farrah. Some plea in mitigation – a retrospective claim to be a pathetic victim, outplayed and manipulated by a piece of scum out of the lowest trailer in the Midwest.’

‘You’d better watch your mouth.’ Scout did not like to hear Wayne spoken of in that way.

Bruce was too scared to care. ‘What? You want me to like the guy, Scout? Your boyfriend is a sadistic maniac, a heartless psychopath.’

‘You don’t know his nice side.’

Bruce actually laughed.

Now Farrah had something to say. She crossed over to the couch where Scout was sitting and sat down beside her. Scout covered her warily.

‘If you’re thinking of trying to make friends with her,’ said Bruce, ‘don’t bother. Brooke tried that, and got a busted lip.’

But Farrah had other things on her mind. She had been thinking a lot since Wayne announced his plan and now she had a favour to ask. ‘Look… Miss… um, Scout? Speaking of nice sides, I would like it so much if you could do something for us. A favour.’

‘What kind of favour?’

‘Would it be all right if my husband made a call?’

‘A call? Who’s he going to call? The whole world’s standing right outside on his lawn.’

‘What’s on your mind, Farrah?’ said Bruce. ‘Who do you want me to call?’

Farrah had to make her pitch. She knew it would not sound good, but she had no choice: everything she had was in danger of disappearing with the morning dew. Farrah was a woman who knew what it was like to have nothing, and as far as she was concerned it sucked.

‘Bruce, think about it. This thing isn’t just going to ruin you as an artist. It will completely destroy you financially as well. Once you claim responsibility for inciting murder, the family of every victim of violence in America is going to sue you, and not just Wayne and Scout’s victims’ families either, but everyone whose life has been touched by violence. We will be in litigation for ever. Velvet’s grandchildren will still be paying. Do you understand? Overnight bankruptcy. What we have to do is transfer all your assets into my name, right now, before you make the broadcast – it won’t wash afterwards. So if Miss Scout here will just let you send a little fax to our bank…’

It was an impressive display. Everyone was surprised.

‘Mom!’ Velvet protested. ‘This is so tacky.’

‘Lady, I am protecting your future here.’

Scout was laughing. ‘You’re something, ain’t you?’ she said.

‘I’m something? I’m not the one breaking into people’s homes and murdering them. I just don’t particularly want some Milwaukee waitress whose husband got knifed in a bar getting hold of my daughter’s money, that’s all.’

‘Well, no one’s making any calls, and no one’s sending no faxes either, so I guess you’ll just have to start thinking ‘bout being poor. So there!’

The room was silent for a moment.

‘Besides which,’ Scout added irritably, ‘I reckon maybe that waitress in Milwaukee would have a point. Maybe the great Bruce “Mr Oscar” Delamitri shouldn’t have gone making them films and all. Maybe all that stuff Wayne ’s going to make you say ain’t so dumb.’

Bruce was angry now, angry enough to ignore his fear. ‘I don’t believe it! You are actually trying to convince yourself that you’re not really to blame, aren’t you? It’s not just a trick, you seriously want to believe it. You actually want to dodge responsibility for what you’ve done. You cowardly little bitch!’

‘Daddy, be quiet,’ Velvet pleaded. ‘She’ll kill us!’

Scout fondled her automatic weapon. ‘I ain’t going to kill no one, cutie, not ‘less they don’t do what we tell ‘em. All I’m saying is that-’

‘You are the sole perpetrators of your crimes,’ Bruce shouted. ‘Nobody pulled the trigger but you.’

‘I know that, Mr Delamitri. I admit that. It was us done our crimes, I admit we’re to blame.’

‘Well, that’s mighty big of you, I must say.’

‘Daddy, please, be nice,’ Velvet begged.

‘It’s just, well…’ Scout continued, ‘I don’t think it helps any that everything is so ugly all the time. That’s all.’ She seemed almost wistful.

‘What’s that supposed to mean?’

‘Well, you know, songs and films and stuff. All that used to be an escape from being poor and living in fear. Now everything just seems to rub your face in it. I mean, your films are like, what’s that word?… when someone’s getting off looking at stuff that’s none of their business…’

‘Voyeuristic,’ Velvet said helpfully, hoping to mitigate her father’s aggression.

‘That’s right. They’re voyeuristic. I mean, you live in a big old house in Hollywood with a pool and a security guy and all-’

‘Until your boyfriend cut his head off,’ Bruce said bitterly. ‘Now I have a decapitated security guard.’

‘I told you I know we done that stuff and we’re to blame.’ Scout was getting angry too. ‘I’m just saying you got all this luxury, like a king or a president or something, and you pay for it by making films about ordinary, sad, dumb people, people who live in ghettos and projects and trailer parks, and making them look ugly and sick and violent-’

‘You are ugly and sick and violent!’

‘Yes, I guess I am, and I deserve whatever I get. It just seems to me that half of America lives in hell and the other half gets its rocks off watching.’

Scout didn’t want to talk about it any more so she put on the TV. Bruce’s house was still on the screen and approaching it, rather nervously, were two people in their underwear.