The Kingdom on the Edge of Reality (5 page)

Dinner had been served on the terrace, and sat waiting on a candlelit table. It seemed a little spooky to me, like a magic dinner in a fairy tale. I was sipping a bit of brandy when Jenna finally appeared. She floated in wearing something that was a mixture of evening gown and negligee. It was very silky and looked like it would be easy to slip off.

I held her chair as she sat down, and she smiled at me coyly over her shoulder. When I was seated she began to serve me; every time she leaned forward she was showing me her perfect breasts nestled in the silky folds of her dress. After she served me, she stole things back from my plate and fed me little bites from hers. She poured my wine and then took sips from my glass. It was very exciting. She transformed eating dinner into a silent conversation about sex, and she did it with grace and style and humor. She was melting me down.

"The house seems very empty," I said.

"Yes, I thought all the servants could use a night out."

"Jenna, everybody is going to know."

"So what?"

"Well, they're Albert's servants."

"And?"

"Do you want Albert to know?"

"Jack, don't spoil everything. Aren't we having a nice time? I told you I don't belong to Albert, and that's the truth. Also, Albert doesn't
want
to know, so no one is going to tell him, don't you see?"

"But . . ."

"No, Jack, no buts. Now for the rest of the night we're not going to mention Albert's name, do you understand?"

I could have gone upstairs and locked myself in my room until morning, but I didn't. I was having a wonderful time with this beautiful woman, and it was easy to convince myself that the pleasure would outweigh the consequences. I had at least one thing in common with Jenna: life often seemed boring, wasted, pointless. To reject such an exciting encounter for the sake of a scruple seemed ungrateful, like throwing away a gift from the gods. Reality, I chose to let myself dream, had been suspended indefinitely. The night would last forever, and we would live happily ever after.

"Darling?" she said, lifting her warm, moist lips from my tingling body. We were upstairs in her candlelit suite, lying on satin sheets in her canopy bed. Beyond that was the gentle night, the moon and stars. There was no stress or strain, no poverty or violence, no lack or need. All undesirable things had been remedied and healed. There was nothing left in the world but luxury and happiness and Jenna. It was one of those moments in life that almost make up for the rest of it.

"Yes?" My voice sounded very far away.

"Do you love me?"

"Yes, Jenna, I love you very much," I said, and I meant it. I also felt a little fear, for when you love, you have something to lose. But as long as dawn never came, everything would be all right, and dawn would never come.

"Darling?"

"Yes, Jenna?"

"It's dawn."

"No, dear," I said, "there will never be any more dawns. It was simply a mistake in the original creation, and the mistake, at my request, has been corrected. Stupid mundane day with all its pointless cares has been cancelled and replaced by endless luscious candlelit night."

"How poetic! But, darling, it really is dawn, and the servants will be up and about soon."

"So?"

"Well, I don't think it would be a good idea for them to see you leaving my boudoir."

"Don't be crazy. I left them a note on the mantlepiece saying that you and I are in bed together. If they see Albert coming, they're to ring the silver dinner bell three times."

"The silver dinner bell already went to auction. And this bed is going today. Things are going to get busy very soon around here."

"This bed?"

"Yes, dear, isn't that awful? So you see . . ."

I held my head tightly in my hands. Reality was like the sudden onset of a migraine. What kind of a world was this? You have a few hours of joy, and then they come and auction the bed right out from under you! And what about Jenna? Did she really care for me? "I don't know when I've ever had such a magical night," I said, reaching out to her.

"Yes, it was wonderful," she said, covering my neck with little kisses. "You're a very gentle lover, Jack."

Was that a compliment? Did she really mean wimpy? Unimaginative? I was feeling very desperate all of a sudden. Jenna got out of bed, found my shirt, and began to help me on with it. I wanted to cling to her, but I knew that wasn't the thing to do. I was supposed to get dressed and make a cheerful exit.
Until next time, Cherie!
When would that be? For competition I had her zillionaire boyfriend who might be arriving at any moment. It was his house. It was his bed. And I was his guest.

"Listen," Jenna said. "It's Albert."

A jolt of adrenaline hit me like a blow. Where was he? What had she heard? I expected him to come bursting into the room, and all I had on was a shirt. "How do you know?" I whispered.

"Can't you hear it? The helicopter?"

Sure enough, I could hear the whop, whop, whop of the rotor off in the distance. I had a little time then. My clothes were all over the floor where I'd dropped them, the landmarks on a treasure map leading to a canopy bed. I watched Jenna as I dressed. She looked a little hurt, a little puzzled. Her words came back to me:
I have to do things like that. I can't help it.

My shoes were in my hand now, my silk scarf draped around my neck. When I went to kiss her she gave me a frightened look, but grabbed me around the neck and kissed me wildly.

"Goodbye, Jack," she panted. "Thank you so much. Oh, here, don't forget your sock."

So with shoes in hand, I sneaked guiltily across the mansion as day was breaking and Albert's chopper was coming in. Cracking the curtains in my room a tiny bit, I watched it land. I was expecting something gay and racy, with chrome trim and a bright stripe or two. But what landed on the lawn was dark, squat, and armor-plated, and carried two machine guns that I could see. I couldn't see any numbers nor any insignia. It looked like a flying pirate ship.

Two men in jumpsuits ran low under the swirling rotor and then walked toward the house. The one who was carrying the attaché case and gesturing with his free hand was Albert. He was still on the portly side, and had grown a little beard.

So fascinated was I with this new image of Albert that I opened the door and tiptoed out on the landing. I heard them come in the front door, heard footsteps below, a sliding sound, a thump, and then a soft clang. Then Albert said, "This should take care of everything. Please count it if you like."

Some small noises, then a gravelly voice that said, "It seems to be all here. We'll see you at 0800 hours on the nineteenth then."

"You can expect up to ten horses."

"Ten horses or ten cannons, it's all the same to us."

"Very good," said Albert. "Never heard of you."

"Never heard of you," said the other man. I heard his boots going to the front door as I tiptoed back to my room, where I watched him run back under the rotor. The chopper lifted off, banking swiftly over the trees at the edge of the lawn.

Quickly I hung up my clothes and slid under the covers. That seemed the safest place to be. All I had to do was close my eyes, and I would be the image of the innocent guest who had been behaving as he should all night. At first I lay there trying to think, but my mind would not engage. Aside from the hour I had spent out cold in the Rolls-Royce, and some catnaps in Jenna's arms, I'd had no sleep in close to twenty-four hours. It had been a very full day, and I was really starting to feel it. I would get a little shut-eye, and then make some excuse to be on my way, maybe after a friendly bit of brunch and some light banter about old school pranks.

An affair with someone's girlfriend was dicey enough and almost sure to lead to trouble and hard feelings. But now the arrival of that corsair helicopter had got me to thinking that the situation here, whatever it was, was very much out of my line, and the quicker I was out of there, the better.

I closed my eyes, relaxed my body, and as the images of the previous day were all just beginning to mingle together into gold-plated chauffeurs and bare-assed helicopters, there was a knock on the door. Cranking one eye open, I saw by the clock on the bedstand that I had actually been out for a couple of hours, not a couple of minutes as it had seemed. But I did not feel rested, and I was not happy to be awakened.

In the past when I had visited the estate, it was customary for the servants to bring in morning tea and open the curtains. Apparently the custom continued, for it was Maxine, Émile's daughter, who opened the door and brought in the tea service. I struggled to look chipper and rested.

"Good morning," said Maxine with a smile. I could not detect any reproach in her face or voice. One usually assumes that the servants in a household like that know everything that goes on; fortunately it is very much in their best interest to keep it to themselves.

"Good morning, Maxine," I said, trying to smile back.

"Mr. Keane has come home," she said, "and wants to know if you will meet him in the den for breakfast."

I said I'd be delighted to, and she opened the curtains and left. Could I steal a little more sleep? Probably not. So, with a sigh and a curse, I took my tea into the bathroom.

On my way to the den I felt pretty good. A hot shower cures many ills. I had drawn a screen in my mind around most of the events of the previous day. I felt ready to renew my acquaintance with Albert and then get the hell out of there.

Albert stood up as I walked in, and came right over to shake my hand warmly in both of his. "Jack," he said, "what a joy it is to see you again."

One of the great mysteries of life is how people can change so dramatically and yet remain unmistakably the same. This man had much more force and focus in the way he presented himself. And with most of the baby fat leeched out of his face, and the well-trimmed and kingly beard he was now sporting, Albert had become quite a handsome man.

Yet in the eyes, so very light blue that you were drawn to look directly at the pupil rather than the iris, it was the same innocent and loving boy I had known at school. Perhaps the odd effect of his light eyes had something to do with it, but there seemed to be no shield, no barrier, no subterfuge in Albert. He seemed now, as he had always seemed before, completely sincere and open; and it made me just as nervous to feel all that undiluted and undisguised warmth pouring out of him as it had in the past. It was too much. It was too naked. But mostly it made me uncomfortable because I never felt able to return it in kind. It made me feel guarded and held back, which I am to some extent, but who isn't? Until you run into an oddball like Albert who doesn't seem to be that way, it seems perfectly normal and necessary.

When I first knew him I used to tell myself that it was because his family was so rich; that he had never been exposed to any trouble. Over time, I realized that the idea was a lot of crap; that Albert's defenselessness was his gift; very courageous really, very commendable, and very annoying at times.

"Nice to see you again, Albert. You're looking very well."

He beamed and even blushed a little at the compliment. He was full of light, and it would light him up over anything at all. "Come and have some breakfast, Jack. You still love sausages, don't you? Hélène is making sausages now which would win prizes all over the world."

"Thanks, Albert, don't mind if I do."

We sat down and began to help ourselves. The sausages were very delicious. Everything about the breakfast was fit for a king. I ate a few mouthfuls and then I said, "What's going on, Albert?"

"Why, Jack," he said with a broad smile, "you, of all people, don't have to ask
me
what's going on."

"Is that so?" I thought about it for a few moments, but I didn't get the joke. "You've been keeping tabs on me. Why?"

"Oh here now, I haven't been keeping
tabs
on you. Why do you say it that way? You make it sound so vulgar."

That was something else which apparently hadn't changed about Albert. Vulgarity, whatever that was or whatever he thought that was, was still something he couldn't tolerate.

"Well, I don't want to hurt your feelings, but I think sending some private eye to take photos of me is a little vulgar, wouldn't you say?"

In truth, I had never been sure what the word vulgar was supposed to mean in Albert's lexicon. I was just pushing his buttons. I hadn't talked with Albert in ever so long, and I wanted to know what he was like.

"Perhaps so, but I didn't
send
anyone to do any such thing."

"If you didn't
send
anyone, then how did it occur that someone was there?" It was difficult to talk to Albert without picking up his emphatic manner of speech. Conversation, communication, the life of the mind, these were all terribly important to him, and he chose his words the way a chemist would choose the ingredients in an experiment. "And how do you happen to know every little thing about me, right down to my shoe size, if you haven't sent some vulgar private eye to find it all out for you, hmm?" I thought I had him there.

"Because, my dear Jack, I never
sent
anyone to find out those things. And you needn't give me that fishy look, because it's true. I just happened to mention one evening at a party many years ago that I was curious what had become of a certain old friend. A few days later I was surprised to receive a complete report on you along with a bill, naturally, and since I paid the bill, I've continued to receive regular reports ever since."

"And continued to pay the bills."

"Yes. After that first report I was quite concerned about you, and though I knew better than to interfere, I preferred to stay informed."

We ate in silence for a while. The idea that Albert had been checking up on me all those years was infuriating. That he had been doing it out of concern was even more infuriating. Who the hell did he think he was?

On the other hand, I couldn't help but wonder if I was just being touchy about wasting so many years, or if I was feeling guilty about Jenna and just wanted to pick a fight to cover it up.