Tigers in Red Weather (19 page)

After the justice of the peace had pronounced them wed, Avery
had taken her back to the guesthouse on Blue Sky Road. She had been staying at a small hotel, and although the bungalow was small and dark, she was so relieved to be finally settled that she didn’t notice some of its less appealing features. He took her into the bedroom, where, laid out on the bed, there was a strapless dress embroidered with silver thread. The inside was lined with cream-colored satin, with the same satin detailed in a panel on the left hip. Helena laughed out loud. Nick was so proud of her dress with the cherries; if only she could see her now.

Avery held up the dress and Helena stripped down to her slip, with only a momentary feeling of shyness to be suddenly undressed in front of her new husband, and stepped in. It fit perfectly.

“How did you know my size?” Helena was practically breathless with pleasure.

“I’ve taken your measurements,” Avery said, giving her a small wink. “I told them you had the same numbers as Jane Russell, only a little shorter.” He took her hand and spun her around. “Perfect. Now I want to take you out on the town and show you off.”

He’d taken her to Ciro’s. Helena had never seen anything like it. The outside was plain and drab, just a block of concrete with a neon sign. But inside it was like a jewel box, with its small stage swathed in gold curtains and its huge, tiered chandeliers. She saw Marlene Dietrich with some French actor, and Jimmy Stewart, and a fat, fierce-looking woman in a huge hat, who Avery told her was the gossip columnist Hedda Hopper. She had to keep herself from whispering “Who’s that?” at each table they passed.

“I want to introduce you to Bill Fox,” Avery said. He didn’t say it at the time, but it was, of course, the Producer who had gotten them the table at Ciro’s.

“Well, well,” the Producer had said when Avery introduced them. “So this is your Jane Russell.”

“Didn’t I tell you, Bill?”

“Yes, you did. Well, well.” He nodded in what seemed to be appreciation.

Helena felt as beautiful as any woman in there. Not fat, or too pale, or slow-witted. She wasn’t the Helena whose house was always smaller, or whose father was always poorer. She was a blond Jane Russell in a silk-lined gown that fit her like a glove. She was charming.

“Hello, so nice to meet you,” Helena said, extending her hand. “I’m just thrilled with the house. Thank you so much for letting us live there.”

“Guesthouse,” the Producer corrected, running the tip of his finger over the half-moons of his mustache. “Yes, well, Avery and I have an old friend in common.”

“Oh.” Helena looked at Avery, who just smiled back at her.

“All right, now, you kids enjoy yourselves.” The Producer turned back to his table.

Avery pulled on Helena’s arm. “We’re in the back.”

Helena stood there for a moment, unsure whether the conversation was really over. “Oh, and honey,” the Producer said, without turning around.

“Don’t forget to return that dress to wardrobe by Monday.”

Daisy was waiting in the car with the motor running when Helena came out to the driveway. Helena looked across the fence at what had once been her own house. The one Nick had taken away from her. Stolen from her, really. A young couple with no children now owned it and had put up a new white picket fence to keep in their dog, an animal with a sweet temper, a mutt, most likely. Its tail was always wagging and its fur was soft and black. She liked that dog.

Daisy called to her and Helena tore her eyes away from the cottage and walked toward the car. The “Bug,” as Daisy referred to it, was small and cramped, the color of a sunflower. She always felt like she had been twisted into a pretzel after a trip in it.

Opening the passenger door, she was greeted by the sound of Bobby Kennedy’s unmistakable faux-Brahmin tones coming over the radio.

“It should be clear by now that the bombing of the north cannot bring an end to the war in the south.”

“You know, I’ve never understood those Kennedys,” she said as she adjusted herself in the small seat. “With that silly accent. No one has that accent.”

Daisy turned the dial. Some tinny-sounding music replaced the news program. Helena sighed and Daisy released the clutch and reversed at a terrifying speed through the back road until they hit North Summer Street. Helena noticed that her niece had kicked her flats off under her seat. She crossed her own legs at her ankles, and then felt like a priss. Why did she feel so old?

It wasn’t just Daisy. After all, at twenty, she was just a baby, really. She looked across at her niece’s profile, the wind ruffling her short blond hair. It was amazing, she thought, how unaffected Daisy seemed by her mother these days. When she was young, she was always watching Nick. You could almost see how afraid that child was of not being able to live up to her. And now, she was so carefree, so unbothered. In a way she treated Nick as Hughes did, with a sort of indulgence. Then again, Helena reminded herself, she was going to be married. She was young and attractive and she had gotten her man. What was there to worry about? She had mooned after that boy for years, played the little show-off, and then subsequently ignored him until he came around to her way of thinking. Helena chuckled. Daisy was relentless, she had to give her that.

She wondered if they were having sex. Probably. People seemed to jump in bed with each other at the drop of a hat these days. Of course, when she was Daisy’s age it wasn’t that people weren’t doing it, but they had the good manners to feel ashamed about it. She
had waited to go to bed with Avery until they were married, and she hadn’t even been a virgin.

They hadn’t slept together on their wedding night, because they’d both drunk too much champagne. Frankly, she’d been relieved. Sex with Fen had been an unsettling experience. He seemed so in awe of her body that it left her feeling like a child’s playhouse. And then, of course, the memory of their lovemaking had somehow gotten tangled up with his death, so that by the time she married Avery the whole idea of it was fairly repulsive.

But going to bed with Avery was completely different. When she finally did, he whispered “My wife, my movie star” the whole time, which made Helena feel strange, but sexy. Afterward, Avery lay tracing the outline of her breast and looking at her with his hooded eyes. Hazel, Helena had remarked, realizing she actually hadn’t known their color before that moment.

“I like that you’re not a virgin, all that fuss,” he said. “But I did think you’d be a little more experienced.”

“Oh,” Helena said, at a loss.

“I want you to talk when we make love.”

“Oh.”

Avery laughed. “You don’t have to be ashamed, Helena. Not with me.”

“I’m not ashamed,” Helena lied.

He took her face in his hands and his expression became more serious. “Promise me, you’ll never try to hide who you are.”

Helena kept her eyes turned away, but she felt a glow spreading through her. “People just don’t talk like that where I come from.”

“I know where you come from,” Avery said. “All those East Coast snobs, like your cousin. But you’re away from all that now. We can be who we want.”

“They’re not snobs,” Helena said.

“No, no, you’re right.” He smoothed down her hair. “You just
make me want to protect you. I don’t want anyone to make you feel like you’re less than what you are. Do you know what I mean?”

She did know.

“I want to show you something,” Avery said, sitting up.

He guided Helena through the living room to the dark wooden door leading to what he had offhandedly referred to as his office when he’d first given Helena the tour.

He opened the door to reveal a cramped, square room with only a small window set off to one side to let the light in. Tacked to one wall were two large posters. One showed a man in a trench coat holding a smoking gun, with a redheaded woman in a torn green dress clinging to his leg. P
AID IN
B
LOOD
was written in big red block letters across the top, and the tagline read: “The Mob wants him … She needs him … But you can’t hold a man like this!”

The other was for a picture called
Eyes Through the Keyhole
(“He sees you when you’re sleeping”). Helena had never heard of either of the pictures, but they sounded like the kind you could see at the double feature.

On the floor, underneath the posters, were two piles of women’s clothes. The only furniture in the room was a gray metal filing cabinet, a desk covered with stills, and a chair. Stacked against the walls were boxes with what looked like junk spilling out; Helena could make out an empty perfume bottle, a hairbrush and a thumbed copy of
Mrs. Parkington
.

“What is all this?” She was particularly disturbed by the hairbrush. Was someone else living here?

“I want to introduce you to Ruby,” Avery said, spreading his arms wide like a pastor.

“I’m sorry, who’s Ruby?”

“She’s my twin,” he said, entering the room and lovingly touching the poster of
Paid in Blood
. “Don’t worry.” He turned back to Helena, who was rooted in the doorway. “She died.”

Helena said nothing, just looked at him; she suddenly had no idea who this man was.

“Listen, I need … no, I
want
to tell you everything.” He ran his hands through his hair, then looked at her. “Can I?”

Helena nodded, but she felt afraid.

“Before I met you, Ruby and I were married. Not married like you and I, at city hall, but married in our souls. She was beautiful and talented, and she taught me how to be free. Look.” He took a photograph off the desk and held it up. A woman with smoky eyes and hair curling around her shoulders lay looking away from the camera. “This is her. This is Ruby.”

Helena had to admit she was glamorous, lovely, really. She felt a little ill. “What happened to her?”

“
They
killed her,” Avery said.

“Who?” She wasn’t sure she wanted to know.

“All of them. The world and all its sordid jealousy.” Avery sighed and sat cross-legged on the floor. “They found her body in her automobile, in some alley off Sunset.” He looked at the photograph again. “Someone had strangled her. The cops said it looked like a pickup gone wrong. Called her a prostitute, a whore. They’re the ones who’re scum. Ruby would never have sold herself. Never.”

Helena felt like she was drunk. Or in a dream when you know you’re in your house, but it isn’t your house. She clutched the filmy robe she had bought for their wedding night closer around her body.

“Avery, dearest, let’s go back to bed. I’m cold.” She thought that maybe, if they left this awful room and shut the door, they could pretend none of this had ever happened. Go back to the bedroom and rewind the clock.

Avery’s expression changed. “Poor little mouse, I’ve frightened you.” He got up off the floor and took Helena in his arms. “I know this is a lot to take in, and maybe it sounds crazy. But I need you to trust me.”

His arms warmed her and she thought of him whispering “My wife, my movie star” as they made love.

“The thing is, she died while she was making a film. And I’m going to finish it. All I need is to raise some capital to buy it off the studio.” His words were coming out quickly now, almost as if he were reciting something from memory. “I’ll use a double, like they did for Jean Harlow in
Saratoga
. But she’ll need to really understand Ruby, to know her. That’s what this is for. I’m putting her back together.”

“Avery …” She pulled out of his embrace.

“Wait, wait,” he said, clasping her hand and holding it to his chest. “Don’t push me away. Please, Helena.” His eyes looked desperate and so sad. “Haven’t you ever felt alone? Like you didn’t belong to anything or anyone? Like you might go crazy with all the things you wanted?” He shook his head. “Don’t say you haven’t, because I know. I knew it the minute I saw you in that hardware store. All that pain, all that pretending that everything was all right, when you were dead inside. It’s been the same for me. We’re a pair, Helena. We can make it right. We can save each other.”

Helena looked at him. Yes, she knew what that felt like, all right. Always the nicer one, the poorer one, with nothing of her own. The pretty girl who boys knew they could fondle without repercussions, too scared and humiliated, too
small
, to tell on them. Always saying thank you for every little kindness shown to her, even with Fen, as if she didn’t deserve it. She deserved it. She deserved to be happy. And now, with Avery, with her husband, she wouldn’t have to do it alone anymore.

On the way to Vineyard Haven, Daisy made a quick stop to run an errand and Helena watched as her niece set her parcel carefully in the backseat, adjusting it fussily until she was sure it was in just the right position. Helena saw shades of Hughes in the gesture, his deliberateness. Hughes was nothing if not careful. Where Nick
was careless with money, people, anything that wasn’t hers, really, Hughes rounded off every corner he came across. Outwardly, his manner was solicitous and charming, but, she thought, there was something missing underneath. It was as if he had reserved a part of himself somewhere inside, untouched, and kept his own mysterious counsel there. Helena would have felt pity for Nick, if it weren’t so comical. She was chained to a man, the only man, it seemed, who failed to respond to the charms that worked so well on others.

Still, Helena sympathized with Hughes, even if she didn’t understand him exactly. She understood about keeping one’s cards close to one’s chest. She had learned the hard way that when people know too much, they inevitably want to save you from yourself. One of Nick’s little prescriptions for her, for example, had been the removal of all the pills in the house, to the point where one couldn’t even find an aspirin in case of a headache. It drove Helena crazy. As if by removing the pills she could remove her appetite, as if she had any control over Helena’s desires. Anyway, the pills weren’t the problem. Not anymore, at least.

At first, Helena had tried to help Avery put order into the collection of Ruby’s things, catalogue them, as it were. But she had been too clumsy, even broken the perfume bottle, and her help had only ended up frustrating him. So, she left him to work alone in the early evenings, when he returned from his job at Sunshine Insurance.