Reign

ACT II: CREATOR

A man's soul was his own enclosed garden, nothing could obtain admittance there without his invitation and permission.

– "Naboth's Vineyard," E. F. Benson

Scene 1

(DENNIS and THE EMPEROR are in the exact positions that ended Act I. There is a long pause.)

DENNIS

(In a voice filled with fear and awe) Who are you?

THE EMPEROR

(Smiles) Who do you think I am?

DENNIS

You're not me.

THE EMPEROR

I'm part of you. I'm something you created – out of yourself.

DENNIS

This isn't real. I'm imagining it. You don't exist. (He moves toward the Emperor, a hand extended gingerly)

THE EMPEROR

You won't prove it that way. I have no… physical existence, I admit that. (He reaches out a hand to touch that of Dennis. Their hands pass through each other, occupying the same space.) Do you feel anything?

DENNIS

No… yes, something… cold.

THE EMPEROR

Sad, isn't it? Something so full of hot life as myself, and I can only be felt as cold.

DENNIS

What… are you?

THE EMPEROR

Your creation. Your child, born of your performance. Born of its strength and its reality.

DENNIS

My creation? How… how could that happen?

THE EMPEROR

You created the Emperor, Dennis. On stage. Year after year, night after night, the strength of your performance formed me. You were never, as you have said to that woman who thinks she teaches acting, an interpreter. You were always a creator.

DENNIS

(Confused and upset) I don't see… I still don't see how such a thing… how you could come to be. Outside of my mind. That's where you belong – in my mind, nowhere else!

THE EMPEROR

Perhaps I'm the first of my kind. A… what shall I say? A histrion, perhaps?

DENNIS

But how?

THE EMPEROR

You became another person so many times, and so effectively, that that person became an independent entity. Me. (He smiles. There is no trace of menace in it)

DENNIS

That can't happen – there's no way that can happen. It would take more than a… a performance to bring something like… like you to life.

THE EMPEROR

Oh, of course. Of course it took more. Do you have any idea of the power that lives in a theatre? Any conception of the emotions remaining after years and years of people viewing plays, films, becoming involved with what they see on that stage or screen?

DENNIS

(Slowly understanding) Catharsis.

THE EMPEROR

Exactly! Catharsis! And it remains where it is shed, remains as what one might call energy. And the result? Cogito, ergo sum!

I have gone insane, Dennis Hamilton thought, looking at the person, the creature, the ghost, the thing standing near him, there in his living room.

It was there. He saw it, he heard it, he knew he was not dreaming. He may have created it, yes, but if so, he had created it only in his mind. His fingers had slipped right through those of the thing. Wasn't that proof that it was not real?

Wasn't that proof, he thought in a miserable panic, that he was crazy?

THE EMPEROR

(Shaking his head sadly) You don't believe me. You think I'm nothing but an hallucination.

DENNIS

(Firmly) Yes. Yes, that's right.

THE EMPEROR

I can prove I'm not.

DENNIS

How?

THE EMPEROR

If I'm your hallucination, I can only know what you know. Isn't that true?

DENNIS

Yes. That seems… logical. If any of this is logical.

THE EMPEROR

It is. Supremely. (He smiles) Royally. I know the answers.

DENNIS

What answers?

THE EMPEROR

I know why Robin died. And Tommy Werton. I'm sad to say I know why Tommy died too.

DENNIS

(His hands tremble) Why? Why Robin?

THE EMPEROR

(His face is wreathed with deep sadness) She wanted to kill Ann. (Dennis's eyes squeeze shut. He clasps his hands over his ears.) I know. I know, it's difficult to believe. But I can see into hearts. I can see what even the finest actors, those scholars of human emotion, cannot. Robin hated Ann Deems. She took her up among the stars to kill her. She had found a pin that belonged to Ann, a pin that you had given her many years ago. She intended to drop it as Ann fell through the ceiling, and then tell people that it had come off her blouse and she had stepped down after it, not realizing the danger. But the light went on. An unforeseen accident. And Robin fell instead of her intended victim.

DENNIS

(Whispering) No… oh dear God, no…

THE EMPEROR

If it will comfort you to know, she did it for love of you. (An inarticulate cry comes from Dennis.) She loved you very much.

DENNIS

(After a moment his sobs subside.) And Tommy… what about Tommy?

THE EMPEROR

That, I fear, was partially my fault. It was me he saw backstage. I unintentionally distracted him. He saw me, thought I was you.

DENNIS

Did you… did you call him onto the stage?

THE EMPEROR

I did, Dennis, yes. I saw that things were wrong, and I wanted only to help. I had no idea that the fire curtain would fall.

DENNIS

You didn't?

THE EMPEROR

(Spreading his fingers) Could I have pulled the pin? (He attempts to pick up one of the Tony Awards, but his hand passes through it.) An accident. A tragic accident.

DENNIS

Harry…

THE EMPEROR

Harry Ruhl? He was disturbed, Dennis. A simple and disturbed young man. It was terrible, but it was self-inflicted.

DENNIS

Do you know everything?

THE EMPEROR

Only what takes place in… our empire. Perhaps I should say your empire. For it is yours, and since you created me I am part of it. You are my creator, therefore my god. I look to you for my well-being, my strength.

Dear God, what is this thing? Dennis wondered. It spoke of Harry's and Robin's and Tommy's deaths with only the outward semblance of compassion. Dennis had been an actor long enough to know when someone – or something – was dissembling, and this creature was doing just that. It seemed to Dennis that the thing had no conception of sympathy or the more tender human emotions. Dennis saw pride in abundance, but little else. Could it be that it was not in the creature's nature to feel the sympathetic emotions? Could it be that self-centered?

Still, when it spoke of him as its creator, its god, Dennis heard affection there and something more. Worship, perhaps? It was blasphemous, but Dennis felt it was sincere.

DENNIS

I don't know… I don't know what to say. (He gives a helpless laugh) I don't even know what to think. Except that I'm crazy.

THE EMPEROR

You are not insane. I am very real.

DENNIS

And if you're real, then what? What happens now? What do you do? What do I do with you?

THE EMPEROR

Shelter me. Be my god. I must remain here. I can go nowhere else. What nourishes me is here. You are here.

DENNIS

Can… other people see you?

THE EMPEROR

They should not. Not yet. They would not understand.

DENNIS

May I tell people?

THE EMPEROR

(He shrugs) Would they believe you?

DENNIS

But who are you? Who? Are you me?

THE EMPEROR

No. I am the Emperor. I am the character that you created, with all the character's emotions that you gave me.

DENNIS

That I gave you… (Startled, suddenly realizing) You said what nourishes you is here. Do you mean the theatre? The catharsis? Or me?

THE EMPEROR

(A pause) Both.

DENNIS

You take your strength from me?

THE EMPEROR

And why should I not take strength from my creator? You gave me life, so should I not draw my survival from you as well?

DENNIS

Strength… taking my strength?

(THE EMPEROR begins to fade away, his voice fading with him.)

THE EMPEROR

Farewell, my friend. We shall be together again.

DENNIS

Wait, wait!

THE EMPEROR

I cannot. I cannot. I am drawn away…

(THE EMPEROR is gone.)

Dennis stood for a long time listening, but he saw nothing more, heard no more words. When he regained the power of motion, a few steps brought him to the spot where the apparition, if such it was, had been standing.

There was nothing there. No trace of cold, no puddle of ectoplasm, no indentations in the thick pile carpet from ghostly feet.

"What in God's name…” Dennis said softly. Had something been there? Or had he been hallucinating? The thing had told him nothing that could not have come out of his own mind – the explanations of the deaths had all occurred to him. He supposed that even Robin's purported plot with the pin had crossed his mind. Still, it had seemed so damned real.

No. Not seemed. It was real. He was sure of it. He had never before had hallucinations, and his body was as drug free as anyone's could be. What he had seen he had seen, and its implications were staggering.

He had always thought that the Emperor had, in a strange way, a life of his own. Dennis had inhabited the character more than he had acted it, creating it like a tailor creates a suit of clothes that he plans to wear for a long time, building it up carefully, knowing that it would have to last.

But in the last year of the Emperor's reign on the stage, it had been as though the suit was wearing the tailor, and after some performances, Dennis, instead of feeling triumphant as he always had before, felt drained, as though more than energy had been taken from him, and something other than the audience was receiving the strength of his performance.

It was just as the Emperor had said – drawing life, and drawing sustenance. Did that explain, he wondered, why he had felt this tremendously diminishing change in his personality? Or was this Emperor-thing merely a "creation" of his weary mind to try and rationalize (if however irrational) the unexplained change in his temperament?

He didn't know. The only thing he was sure of was that he had seen what he had seen, and that if he did not talk to someone about it, and soon, he might damn well go mad, if he wasn't already.

Sid was still awake, and answered the door quickly at Dennis's knock. He was watching an old Bogart movie on video with Donna Franklin. Dennis suspected that he had interrupted more than just the movie, but Sid graciously assured him that he would be glad to talk to him, gave Donna a kiss, and accompanied Dennis to his suite, where Dennis told him, in as much detail as he could recall, to whom he had spoken and what was said.

When he finished, Sid got up, went to the bar, poured two cognacs, and brought them back to the couch where they sat. "Go ahead, drink it." He did as Sid said. The warmth of the liquor and his friend's presence were reassuring.

"So what do you think?" he asked Sid.

Sid took a deep breath and another sip of his drink before he spoke. "I think it's a projection."

Dennis didn't understand. "What, you mean a trick?"

"No. A psychic projection maybe. A projection of guilt."

"Guilt. For what?"

"For Robin. And maybe even for Tommy and Harry Ruhl, I don't know. We've all been through a helluva lot, Dennis."

"Then you don't believe me."

"I do. I believe that you saw what you say you saw."

"But you don't believe it was real. You think I imagined it."

"I think… it was real to you."

Dennis shot to his feet and started to pace. "Oh, that's bullshit, Sid, and you know it. If you think I'm imagining things, tell me, for God's sake. Don't patronize me.”

Sid nodded. "All right then. I think you're imagining things. But I can understand why. And I think it'll pass. You may never see this. .. this guy again.”

“He wasn't a guy, Sid. He was the Emperor."

"Aw, Dennis -"

"Aw, hell! So what do you think I ought to do, Sid? See a shrink?”

“I don't think it would hurt."

"I've been that route, and that was as much bullshit as your psychic projections. I saw this thing. I saw it right there in front of me."

"But you didn't touch it."

"I couldn't! It wasn't… solid."

"It wasn't real then."

"Christ, Sid, you can't touch love or hate, but that doesn't mean they're not real, does it?"

Sid sat looking down into his drink as though there were an answer there. "No. I guess it doesn't." He looked up and sighed. "Dennis, maybe it is real, I don't know. But whatever it is, it'll go away if you want it to. It'll go away in time."

But do I want it to? Dennis was surprised at the thought. The gravity of it made him calm again. "All right. All right, I'm sorry I lost my temper. Look, you go back to Donna, huh? I'll be okay. I just had to talk about it to someone. Maybe you're right, maybe it's just. .. things. It's been hard."

"I know. You know how I felt about Robin."

Dennis nodded and showed Sid to the door, where he gave him a hug, smiled, and said goodnight.

Alone, Dennis walked back into the bedroom, took off his robe, and got into bed. It seemed terribly large, terribly empty, and he wondered about what Sid had said. He didn't want to believe it, but maybe his friend was right. Maybe, he thought as he lay in the darkness, it was a projection, all in his mind, a phantom born of the guilt he felt about Robin's death. True, he had done nothing specific to cause it, but he couldn't stop thinking that if he had loved her more, paid more attention to her and her concerns and her not altogether unfounded jealousy, she would still be alive.

And as drowsiness overtook him, he thought again that he should have loved her more. If there was a next time, he would love completely and unselfishly. No next time with Robin, no, it was too late now, but with someone else…

With Ann…

"Ann…” On the edge of sleep he breathed her name, and knew, in an instant of realization that shocked him into full wakefulness, that someone else was there to hear that softest whisper.

He sat up in the darkness, listening for a breath not his own, listening, but hearing nothing. He put his head back on the pillow, and in a few minutes was asleep.

~* ~

(The scene is the living room. THE EMPEROR stands by his portrait, smiling, his head cocked as if listening to the deep breathing of DENNIS coming from the bedroom. He crosses to the bar, grasps the bottle of cognac with his right hand, a glass with his left, and pours. There is an audible sound as he replaces the bottle. Then he raises the glass to his lips and drinks from it. The cognac disappears. And, in another moment, so does THE EMPEROR.)

Scene 2

It had been, Ann Deems thought, a hell of a day so far. She was now on the phone for a third time with a representative of Actors' Equity, discussing accommodation arrangements that had already been settled, or at least so she thought. Apparently the Equity rep didn't.

"According to the producers' agreement, to which you people are a signatory," the man droned on, "there are to be toilet facilities in every room."

"But we got a concession for that," Ann repeated, "as long as the performers agree. There are sinks, but no showers or toilets. Those are in common bathrooms that serve every six rooms."

"I have no record of that concession."

"Well, I've got a copy right here. I can read it to you if you like."

"Read it or not, I've got to have it on paper. Hearing it over the phone doesn't do a thing."

"But you were sent two copies."

"Well, they're not here."

"Well then you must have lost them. Now the best I can do is to fax you copies.”

“Oh, we don't need them that quickly."

Jesus, Ann thought. Then what was all this goddamned fuss about? Just as she was about to lose her temper and unleash an anti-bureaucratic tirade upon this clown who was frittering away her morning, Dennis Hamilton walked in.

She had not seen him since the funeral, when he had said nothing to her, only nodded and looked away. She had expected no more. He had gone off to Florida immediately afterward, and, although she had heard John Steinberg tell Donna that he had returned the previous night, had not expected to see him so quickly.

She had also not expected to see him looking as apparently robust as he did. The weeks in Florida seemed to have done him good. His face was tanned, and he appeared to have gained some weight. He was smiling, although the longer she studied him the more she felt that there was something cautious about him. No, she thought. Cautious wasn't the word. Haunted. And hunted.

"Look," she said into the phone, paying no attention to the officious jabbering on the other end, "I'll send you those copies and we can go from there. Goodbye." She hung up without waiting for a response.

"Don't tell me," Dennis said. "Equity."

She nodded. "Even the arts have their share of bureaucracy."

"It'll all get sorted out in the end." His face sobered. "I wanted to thank you," he said.

She looked at him, puzzled.

"For trying to… save Robin," he explained. "It was very dangerous. You were very brave. You could have fallen yourself."

"I just… tried to reach her, that's all. I'm only sorry I couldn't."

"Well, I just want you to know that I appreciated the attempt." Dennis sighed and sat down in the metal folding chair next to Ann's desk. "I know there's been a terrible amount of tragedy here. And I know that it must have some effect on everyone. Now I don't know if you've had any thoughts about leaving – because of everything that's happened, I mean…”

She felt chilled. What was he saying? Was he about to let her go? Ask her to leave?

"… but I hope you won't." The words were like a caress. "I need you here, Ann. More than ever now, I need everyone here. It's going to be harder than ever without Robin. She did so much – for me and for the project. She'll be difficult to replace." He looked up guiltily. "She worked so hard on the project."

"I know," Ann said. "I know what you mean."

He smiled again. "You're a bright spot around here, Ann. And if there's anything we need right now, it's bright spots. Will you stay?"

"Sure." She wondered if she should say the words, then cast discretion away and did. "You'll have a tough time getting rid of me."

She thought he read into them what she wanted him to. He looked at her for a long time, then nodded. "I hope so."

~* ~

Another three weeks went by before Dennis came into her office again. During that time they only talked on the phone or said hello to each other as they passed in the hall. The time was filled with work, and everyone from Dennis to Abe Kipp immersed themselves in it, working hard and keeping late hours, as if the business would keep tragic memories and thoughts at bay. Dennis and John Steinberg spent one of those weeks in New York, auditioning performers for Craddock, and on the first day he returned, he came into Ann's office just before lunch time. They chatted for a while about the auditions, he told her that they had cast the entire show except for the male lead, Frank Craddock, and then walked over to her window and looked out of it.

"Ann, I don't want this to sound unfeeling or insensitive," he said slowly, as if feeling his way, "but I think you know how I feel about you. You know that it was only because of Robin that I didn't say more than I did." He sighed and turned to face her. "This is all by way of asking you to have dinner with me tonight. Dinner. Nothing more, except for talk. Despite all the hustle and bustle that's been going on around here, I feel very lonely right now. I'd like your company."

She began to speak, but he held up a hand. "Again, if you don't want to, just say no. It'll make no difference in your work here."

She laughed. "When have I ever been able to say no to you?"

"You did once," he said without a smile.

"Yes. I know. And that was a mistake."

"Then don't make it twice."

They looked at each other for a long time. Then Ann said, "I'll have to go home and change."

"You look fine."

"No I don't. I look like a production assistant."

He laughed. "All right, go home and change if you want to. But this time I'll pick you up at your house."

Immediately the thought of Terri leapt into her mind. "Oh no, Dennis, you don't have to -"

"I'm quite capable of driving myself, and I asked you, not the other way around. I'll pick you up and take you home and not another word about it, please."

It was stupid to be concerned about it, she thought. Terri would have to know anyway. There was no way to keep it a secret. And why would she have to? There was nothing wrong with having dinner with Dennis. They had done so before, and the evening had ended innocently enough.

When she told Terri over lunch that she was having dinner with Dennis that evening, the girl made a face that was half a sneer, half a grimace of anger. "Not wasting any time, are you?"

"That's a crude thing to say."

"It's a crude thing to do, in my opinion."

"I don't recall asking for your opinion."

They finished their respective lunches in silence.

~* ~

"What do you think of Terri Deems?"

"I try not to think of her at all." Curtis Wynn put his shoulder to a flat and shoved it into its bin, then turned to accept the mid-afternoon Coke that Evan Hamilton handed him. In the few weeks they had been working together, Evan felt that he had developed a certain camaraderie with Curt. The older man was still taciturn, but talked more than he had when Evan had started. He thought that was due in part to Curt's pleasant surprise over Evan's expertise at backstage work.

"What, you don't think she's cute?" Evan asked.

"Sure, she's cute. I just don't want to get involved with her."

"Why not?"

Curtis gave Evan a sidelong look. "First of all, I'm indifferent to that girl. In fact, I think she could be kind of a pain in the ass, given half a chance. The second reason is that I have no idea of what's cooking between her mother and Dennis."

The muscles of Evan's face went taut. "What do you mean?"

"Like I said, I have no idea. I don't know. But you asked me, I told you. Let's let it go at that."

"Ann and my father?"

"I've already said enough, okay? It's none of my business, but I wouldn't do anything until I found out which way the wind was blowing."

Evan could feel his cheeks turning red. The thought of Ann and Dennis together infuriated him. Despite the loose moral climate of his parents' world, the values he had learned were those of private schools and the armed services – old style discipline and respectability. After the initial shock of her age, he had treasured Robin as a stepmother, because he found very quickly that she had shared those values. And now to learn that Dennis had probably been cheating on her right under her nose was more than he could bear. The fact too that she was Terri's mother added fuel to the fire, but he consciously ignored that aspect as he whirled around and headed toward the steps of the stage.

"Evan!" Curt called after him. "Where the hell are you going?"

He didn't answer, but ran up the aisle, through the lobby, and to the flight of stairs that led to the second floor. He was too impatient to wait for the elevator. He ran down the hall until he was in front of the door of Dennis's suite. Ignoring the doorbell, he hammered on the oak panels.

In a moment, Dennis opened the door. He looked startled by the pounding, then confused to find his son there, so obviously upset. "Evan, what is it?…“

“It's Robin, that's what it is – Robin, and the way you treated her!”

“What -"

"Ann Deems, huh? And I thought those tears at the funeral were real. God, what a terrific actor you are!" Dennis's face went white, and Evan knew then that Curt's suspicions were true. Having drawn blood, he went in for the kill. "What the hell is wrong with you? All the time I was growing up, you were grabbing every -"

"Be quiet," Dennis said. "Come in here. Come in and we can talk."

Seething with what he felt to be righteous indignation, Evan glared at his father, then pushed the door open and entered the suite, while Dennis gently closed the door behind them. "What do you want to talk about?" Evan went on. "You want to rationalize cheating on her?"

"I didn't cheat on her," Dennis said. "I never cheated on Robin."

"Why should she be any different from your other wives and lovers?"

"You know damn well I only had one wife before Robin – your mother. And yes, I did cheat on her. And she cheated on me too. You read that trashy biography of her, you know the stories. Why do you think I didn't sue? I couldn't. Everything they said was true."

The accusation toward his mother sobered Evan somewhat. "You never told me that before. But even so, so what? So fucking what? Why should I believe you about Ann Deems?"

"I was faithful to Robin."

"Sure. Sure you were. But if you weren't, you're the lowest piece of slime that ever walked a stage."

"Don't you speak to me like that."

"Why? What'll you do, fire me? The tabloids'll eat that up, won't they?"

"Get out, Evan." His father sounded terribly weary, and for a moment Evan almost pitied him. He walked to the door.

"You know, Dad, there was one lesson you taught me – not right out, but by example, and I'll never forget it. Seeing you taught me never to think with my dick."

He turned his back on his father, opened the door, and stepped into the hall. He didn't close the door behind him, and he didn't hear his father close it either.

The scene is the fly space fifty feet above the stage floor. It is an hour later. The area, a space in which large scenery pieces "fly" up out of sight above the proscenium arch, is in semidarkness, lit by the work lights twenty feet below. EVAN HAMILTON is standing on a catwalk, and is examining the condition of the fly ropes with a flashlight he carries. His attention is so fixed on his work that he does not hear THE EMPEROR, dressed exactly as was Dennis in the suite, come up behind him.)

THE EMPEROR

Evan… (EVAN, startled, turns, almost losing his balance. He is grasped by THE EMPEROR.) Don't fall. I would not want to be deprived of the joy of dropping you myself. (He grasps the boy by the belt and the collar and holds him over the rail of the catwalk so that Evan's upper body is hanging above the stage floor.)

EVAN

(Terrified) Dad! Jesus, what are you -

THE EMPEROR

Speak when you're spoken to, you little bastard, and maybe not even then. You are a bastard, you know. I didn't tell you that, either. I have no idea who your real father was. That whore I married would fuck anyone in breeches.

EVAN

Dad…

THE EMPEROR

Whining now? Whining suits you. You've whined your whole damned life, haven't you? Whined at home, whined in your little schools, whined in the Marines, didn't you? I wonder if you'll whine as you fall through the air. Robin didn't, you know. She shouted her anger. But you only shout your anger when you think you're safe, don't you? Will you shout your anger now?

EVAN

Please… please don't…

THE EMPEROR

(He jerks EVAN back up onto the catwalk, but hangs on to his collar.) Then you don't. You don't ever talk that way to me again. Not to the Emperor. (He emphasizes each word.) Do you understand?

EVAN

Y… yes.

THE EMPEROR

Yes what?

EVAN

Yes… sir.

THE EMPEROR

Yes, your majesty!

EVAN

Yes… your majesty.

THE EMPEROR

Good. (He releases Evan.) Now get down from here… before you have an accident.

(EVAN moves quickly away to the narrow stairway and climbs down .)

~* ~

My God, Evan thought, my God, he's really crazy, he's really gone off the deep end…

He slipped more than once in his rush down the stairway, but he managed to regain his footing. At the bottom, he crossed the last six steps in one leap, and came down hard on one knee, grunting with the pain.

"What's the matter with you?"

Evan looked up into the narrowed eyes of Abe Kipp. "You okay?" the man said. "Hard fall there."

"I'm okay," Evan said, standing straight despite the pain.

Abe looked up into the flies. "Who you talkin' to up there?"

Evan looked up too, but could see no trace of movement in the shadows above. "My father," he said at last.

"Mr. Hamilton?" Abe looked up again, took a few steps to one side, then back again. "I don't see nobody. Mr. Hamilton?" he called, but there was no answer. "Don't hear nothin' neither. Catwalk squeals like a bitch. Somebody walkin' up there you'd know it. Hey, Mr. Hamilton!" he called again, but there was no reply, no sound of anyone moving above.

"He must have left another way," Evan said. He was still trembling, and hated himself for it, hated himself for not dying if he had to, not taking the old man over the rail with him. Your majesty! Jesus sweet Christ, what was wrong with him?

"Other way? Only other way's across the ceiling into the projection booth," Abe said. "Lights're off and it's dark as hell up there. Man'd have to be a fool to go walkin' on the ceilin' catwalk in the dark. One wrong step and…"

Abe didn't have to say any more. The picture of Robin's crushed body was vivid in both their minds. "I don't know, Abe. Maybe… maybe he had a flashlight," Evan said, looking at his own flashlight he had somehow hung on to through his ordeal.

"Maybe so," Abe said. "Don't know, though. Still seems crazy."

Crazy was the word, Evan thought as he went to find Curt. He wouldn't go up in the flies again. He didn't think he could bear to climb those stairs, not now, not after what had happened.

Halfway up the aisle of the theatre he changed his mind. It was Sid he would look for, not Curt. He had always been able to talk to Sid while he was growing up, and he wanted to talk to him now, to tell him about how crazy Dennis had acted. Sid's suite was just across the hall from Dennis's, but he would be careful. He didn't think he could bear to see his father again, not so soon after that horrible confrontation.

Terri Deems was in the lobby as he passed through it on his way to the elevator. He thought she looked different, then realized that it was the first time he had ever seen her smile. "Hi," she said, and stopped as if she wanted to talk. He slowed, unsure of her intentions. "What are you up to?"

"Uh… looking for Sid."

"He's in the office. I just came from there."

"Thanks."

He started off, when she called after him. "Hey, why the hurry? I wanted to ask you something."

"Uh, okay. What?"

"I was just thinking maybe we could go out."

"Go out?"

"You know – boy, girl, go out, date… what you mentioned to me a few weeks ago."

Was this the same girl? "That was a few months ago, and you… didn't seem too thrilled with the idea."

"That was then, this is now. I was rude. I'm sorry. I've had second thoughts.”

“Well… sure. That'd be great."

"How about tonight?"

"Tonight?"

"You have other plans?" she asked in a tone that told him he would be a fool to.

"No, no, not at all. Dinner?"

"Fine."

"Shall I pick you up?"

"With what? You don't have a car."

"Oh. Yeah."

"I'll be at your place. You're in a third floor suite, right?"

"Right." He thought for a second. "How about the Kirkland Inn?"

She smiled a smile that would have melted butter. "That would be perfect," she said, and headed out the door.

God, he thought, yin and yang. It seemed that whenever something awful happened, something good happened too. Curt may be right, he thought. Terri Deems might be a pain in the ass. But what a nice ass it was.

He tried to clear his head of her, and went to find Sid.

As Terri had said, Sid was in the office talking to Donna Franklin. When Evan told him that he'd like to see him in private, Donna told them to stay there in her office while she stepped into Steinberg's. "Sid," said Evan when they were alone, "I'm worried about my dad."

"Nothing's changed then. You've always worried about him."

"This is different. He was up in the flies today. He threatened to throw me off.”

“Are you sure? You didn't misunderstand him?"

"I'm sure. He wanted me to call him 'your majesty.'"

Sid shook his head. "Did you do anything to piss him off?"

"I… well, yeah, I guess so." And briefly Evan filled in Sid on the confrontation in Dennis's suite.

"That wasn't very smart, kid. You dad's private life is his own affair, you know that"

"Yeah, I know. But goddammit, I just saw red. So soon after Robin's death and all."

"It's been six weeks. And your dad's always been one to pick up pieces quickly. The Emperor in him, I guess."

"That was the weirdest thing, Sid. That was what really… scared the hell out of me. He called himself the Emperor. Up in the suite he was one way, but on the catwalk – it was like he was somebody else."

Sid put an avuncular hand on Evan's shoulder. "Kid, your dad's gone through a helluva lot lately. We all have. You take three deaths – one your wife – and combine them with this project we've all gambled our lives on, and you think you're gonna be totally normal? It's just a job to you, pal. It's Dennis's life. Give him slack."

"Sid, he threatened to kill me."

"He's done that before. Not to you, maybe, but to other people who pissed him off. He's never carried it through, though." Sid smiled. "Leastways, not that I know of. He flies off the handle…” The smile turned to a puzzled frown. "Or he used to. God, I haven't seen him explode in ages. You must have touched a sore spot.”

“He even said…” Evan paused.

"What?"

"That I wasn't his son."

Sid sat for a minute, staring at Evan. Finally he shook his head. "That's bullshit. Believe me, I know. I was there, pal. Right after they were married, Dennis didn't want to let your mom out of his sight. And when he did, I was right there. If anything funny had gone on, I'd have known about it."

"You're right. You're probably right. But he just seemed so crazy

… I don't know, maybe I should just get the hell away from here."

"Maybe you should stay. You might be able to help him."

"Help him? How?"

"He needs stability right now. Maybe he's looking back at the days when he was the Emperor, thinking that things were better then, simpler. Play the role and that's it. He needs to have people around him who care, Evan. Robin's death's has left a helluva gap. We've all got to try and help to fill it."

Evan walked to the window and looked down at the tree-lined street. "Why, Sid? Why do we have to?"

"Because he's a good man. A generous man. And because we love him.”

“You really think that's true? You think he's good?"

"Yeah, I do. He works his heart out when the telethon comes along each year. And in the past twenty years he's given away millions. Literally millions.”

“I never knew that."

"Nobody does except us and the IRS. He doesn't want it publicized. But there's another thing – if this musical theatre project works out it's going to mean work for hundreds of show people. It's a damn good cause." Evan didn't speak. "Hang around, kid. He needs you, really."

"All right. For a while. I don't know what I can do, though."

"Just don't piss him off again. Let him go, even if you think he's wrong. He's got to work some things out on his own. But be there when he needs you.”

“All right, Sid. Thanks for listening."

"Hey, anytime." He gave the boy a hug.

"Curt's gonna wonder where the hell I am," Evan said, and went to the door. "So long, Sid."

"See you, kid."

Kid, he thought as he watched the boy leave. Yeah. My kid?

Sid felt his gut cramp and wondered if he had been able to keep the look of shock off his face when Evan had dropped the bombshell. If Evan's reaction was honest, he had. That's what came of once having been an actor.

One hot afternoon and one drink too many, and he had lived with the guilt all his life. Dennis had been in New York meeting with John Steinberg, and Sid was left alone with Natalie Pierce, Dennis's wife of three months. She was a few years older than Sid, but ravishingly good looking, and when she asked him to sit with her at poolside and talk, he had done so willingly, and had made them both several drinks.

One thing had led to another, and before he was even aware of it, they were screwing in the cabana, without benefit of condom. Nine months later Evan had been born.

Sid had never been sure if he or Dennis had been the father. As the omniscient majordomo of the Hamilton household, he knew that they were the only two possibilities, and prayed to God that it was Dennis and not himself. Natalie Pierce had never requested a repeat performance, much to his relief. She was, he grew to realize, a games player, and had fucked him just to have fucked her husband's friend. With that mindset, it was surprising that she had never mentioned their indiscretion to Dennis, but such, Sid had figured, must have been the case, for Dennis's attitude toward Sid had not changed a jot. In another year, Dennis and Natalie were divorced. The year after that, she was dead, her games ended forever.

But the guilt had remained with Sid. Several times he had been on the verge of quitting over some outrageous words or actions on Dennis's part, but always he stayed, feeling himself condemned to penance because of his previous disloyalty with his employer and friend's wife. A greater penance, however, was the presence of Evan when he came to live with Dennis after Natalie's suicide.

It was Sid who became the surrogate father when Dennis was on location shooting a film, or working fifteen hours a day on his short-lived TV series. Later, with the success of the Private Empire revival, he saw Evan less and less, but the bond that had been forged in Evan's young childhood was still strong.

And apparently the bond that was forged, ever so briefly, between Sid and Natalie Pierce Hamilton was still strong too, in Dennis's mind at least. Sid had no idea that Dennis had ever suspected. How could he have? There had been no insinuations about Sid in Natalie's biography that had appeared in 1977, which presented a roster of her sexual partners, for one of Natalie's weaknesses was a loose tongue. Perhaps she hadn't considered Sid worth mentioning to her cronies.

Then why had Dennis told Evan that he was a bastard? Merely out of spite, in order to hurt him with his mother's adulteries? It didn't seem like Dennis. He could be hard, but not petty.

Of course, Dennis had not seemed like himself for months. Still, Sid had noticed no change in the way he was treated. Hadn't Dennis come to see him the night before to talk about that hallucination he had had? Surely there was evidence that he considered Sid a confidant, and bore him no ill will for a twenty-year-old indiscretion, even if he did suspect. He had even hugged him.

But dear God, Sid thought, forgetting for a moment the surprising revelation Evan had mentioned, what was happening to Dennis? Coming on to Donna a few months ago, the hallucination of seeing the Emperor as a separate entity several weeks before, and then today, with Evan, claiming to be the Emperor…

The grief and loss must have been great, but he had been acting strangely even before Robin's death. What was going on in Dennis's head? What in God's name was he thinking?